501DISCLAIMER
I OWN NOTHING YOU RECOGNISE (AND SOME THINGS YOU DON'T.) If you steal my work, I will take legal action against you. I mean it. I worked really hard on this story and I don't want to read the exact same story on another site with the names changed. Not cool.
© hotcheri.
Very few writers really know what they're doing until they have done it- Anne Lamott.
A/N: I dunno wtf I've done in this story, but I tried, and that's all one can do, no?
Chapter 24- Forward.
10 years later. Palmdale, California.
Scott's Point of View.
"You've definitely got a death wish," was my mom's greeting as I answered my phone with one hand and fumbled with putting my key in the front door lock with the other.
Groaning as I finally got the door open, I stepped into my bachelor pad and my headache intensified as the sunrays pouring through the large bay windows hit me in the eyes.
Fucking concussion.
Slamming the door shut with my foot, I crossed the living room to shut the blinds. "What happened to saying 'hi, Scott, how are you feeling after your stint in the hospital' or something like that?" I joked, dropping myself down into my Laz-E-Boy recliner and heaving a sigh of relief as the pounding in my head subsided until I moved again.
Thankfully I was still on vacation for another two weeks, and I planned on moving as little as possible. Food deliveries, universal remote control and extra strength Tylenol were the name of the game for the next few days. Still, checking off wingsuit BASE jumping off my bucket list was worth the concussion I had suffered due to a freak gust of wind right before I landed.
But mom did not have to know that.
"The second you stop pulling these dangerous stunts is when I'll start giving you normal greetings again," mom replied without missing a beat, a stern note in her voice. "I know you're in pain right now, so maybe you'll listen to me when I say no more extreme sports."
Snickering, I kicked off my Adidas flip-flops as I got more comfortable. "The concussion was just a fluke," I protested, even though I knew that mom wasn't going to sway her position. She'd told me how much she loathed my proclivity to veer towards dare devil activities many times. "I was fine when I went cave diving, even though you were worried about that. I've been skydiving over three hundred times, and I always come out unharmed on the other side, so-."
"You broke your leg when you went free flying, broke your ribs when you went canyoning, ripped out a chunk from your arm when you went ice climbing in the Rockies- should I go on?" mom asked pertly.
Tugging a hand through my hair, I sullenly muttered, "No."
"Your dad and I are worried, Scott. That's it," mom said gently, warmth filling her voice.
I couldn't help laughing, spluttering, "I'm almost 30 years old, mom."
"So why are you acting like an adrenaline starved 20-year-old?"
Shrugging lazily even though I knew she couldn't see me, I drawled, "I love adrenaline." "We all know that, but ever since you and Catalina broke up, you've been acting more reckless and taking more risks."
Mom's firm tone brooked no arguments, but I was in a teasing mood despite my headache and the various aches and pains that came as a result of my bad landing, and, as sarcastically as I could muster, I said, "Have I? I didn't notice."
"Smartassery doesn't work on me," mom replied dryly.
"Mom, I know what you're trying to say," I told her, closing my eyes and reciting the now familiar words from memory. "I need someone to keep me grounded because I can't regulate myself and I have no sense of danger or self-control."
I could almost see mom nodding frantically as she said, "Yes, basically. You have a little sister." Her voice softened. "Dani doesn't need to come visit you in the hospital every month when you get injured."
"I know, I know." I let out a brooding sigh. As a whole, my family was leery of hospitals and only went there in emergency situations. We all carried Alex's death in the backs of our minds, and our mistrust of doctors stemmed from his untimely passing. "Do you really think that I've become more reckless since I broke up with Catalina?" I asked, curiosity tingeing my voice.
Adamantly, mom said, "You're doing more extreme things. When you were with her, you stuck to the activities I could tolerate without getting anxiety much. But now- heli-skiing?" She let out a disgruntled snort. "Come on, Scott, what's next, running with the bulls?"
"Actually, I was reading up on that, and I think it would be fun to-," I started, a smile slipping onto my face.
Interrupting me immediately, mom warned, "Don't even think about thinking about that. I dare you."
"Fine, not this year," I joked. "But if you start telling me to find a nice girl to settle down with anytime soon, I'm heading to the Pamplona encierro in July."
Waiting for mom's response, I snickered softly to myself. Even though Running with the Bulls was something that hadn't ever crossed my radar, I couldn't resist messing with mom. She sighed. "Okay." Her voice turned sly and I raised my eyes to the ceiling, instantly regretting the movement as a surge of pain flared up in my head. "Guess who I saw a few days ago?"
"Who?"
Excitedly, mom said, "Zabri!" before pausing expectantly, like she thought I was going to say something. Deciding that I wasn't, she continued. "I ran into her at Star Bucks and we had a coffee together. She told me to say hi to you, so, here you go."
"How is she?" I asked, feeling a twinge of jealousy that mom had actually ran into Z. the last time I had seen Z in person was that Saturday afternoon I would never forget, the day she broke her wrist. Even though I talked to her pretty regularly on the phone and via Facebook, that wasn't nearly the same as seeing her in person.
"She's great. Looks amazing- has these long braids that look great on her. She had just come from giving a self-esteem talk at Glendale High." Mom's voice was suffused with pride as she gushed about Z. I couldn't lie, I was proud as fuck of her too. "And she's nearly finished her doctorate dissertation."
I smiled wistfully. "Yeah, she's doing really well for herself going by the last time we talked."
"When was that?" mom instantly jumped on the information and I groaned out loud.
Fuck.
"Last week," I supplied, knowing exactly what was coming next, because, just like dad's tendency to sneak off and play golf during his lunch hour, it never failed.
Cunningly, mom said, "You two should meet up for lunch or something."
"You know how busy I am," I said, knowing a lame repartee when I heard it. Shit. Mom had one up on me, years of reasoning with headstrong kids had honed her argumentative skills to a fine point.
She let out a 'humph'. "You're on vacation, and you're dealing with a concussion. A nice lunch date with an old friend would work wonders on you."
"Mom, you are the most transparent person I've ever met."
Laughing, mom said, "I plead the fifth. All I said was you two should do lunch."
"And is this the first time you've said this?" I asked, rasping a hand over my stubble as I continued. "Usually after seeing Z, and right when I've broken up with someone?"
"The last few girls you've dated- if I can call it that- weren't exactly prized catches." Remorsefully, I replied, "Neither am I, mother."
All she had to do was ask Z herself.
"All I'm saying is- you haven't seen Zabri since she left UCLA. That's almost ten years. Wouldn't it be nice to reconnect?" mom asked hopefully.
"We have reconnected. We talk on the phone, on Facebook…"
Scoffing, mom said, "I meant in person."
"She's probably really busy."
Shrewdly, mom said, "Or you're just scared that you're not over her."
"Have you been talking to Cheryl?"
Sounding as guilty as a child who was caught scribbling on walls, mom said, "No," as I laughed.
"What am I gonna do with you two?"
"You could humor us and take Zabri out for lunch."
I ran a hand over my face. "Apart from that."
"You know, when you were with Zabri- that was one of the calmest eras of my life," mom said, a thoughtful note entering her voice.
Inclining my head to one side, I asked, "What do you mean?"
"Well, remember what you were like before she came into town and you started trying to impress her?" she asked teasingly.
I snickered. "I have a feeling you'll tell me."
"And you'd be right. You were like Evel Knievel trapped in a teenager's body. The skateboarding, BMXing, snowboarding, sand surfing- I hadn't even heard of that until you convinced us to take that summer trip to Namibia when you were 15!" I couldn't help laughing as she continued, sounding outraged. "The amount of broken bones you got- I shudder just thinking about it. But then Zabri came into your life and- you mellowed out almost at once."
Amused, I asked, "And your blood pressure went down too, right?"
"It sure did. My point is- Zabri definitely had something to do with it." Her voice turned pleading and I braced myself for what I knew was coming. "I think you guys should try again."
Jokily, I said, "Why, so I can mellow out again?" My voice turned serious as I said, "Mom. Zabri moved on. So have I."
"Ugh, you're impossible," mom said fondly.
I smirked. Mom-0, Scott-1. "I'll try not to hurt myself again."
"Well, the dream team is home," mom said as I heard dad and Dani chattering in the background. "I'll talk to you later, okay?"
"Alright, mom."
"Drink lots of water, rest and no TV."
Laughing I said, "Yes, Doctor Taylor. I love you."
"I love you too, kiddo," she said before she hung up, leaving me staring at my cell phone vacantly.
Great. Now mom had gotten me thinking about Z, and it seemed that once I started, I could never stop. And the crazy thing was, mom was totally right. Well, not exactly crazy, since mom was usually right, but you get what I mean.
Z had been about 95 percent of my impulse control. Although she hadn't minded me being impulsive, she had always been there to call me out whenever I did the more extreme and radical daredevil stuff, like diving off the roof and the like. All of my other girlfriends after her thought it was cool that I was so daring and never checked me, and we all know impulsive is my middle name, so I was constantly in and out of the hospital with injuries.
I dreamily gazed at the wall as more Z related thoughts intruded in on my brain.
After our breakup, her transfer and my family moving to Calabasas, we didn't talk until I graduated from UCLA, after Cheryl tagged us in a picture of us all taken on our last day at Glendale High. I threw myself into my studies, partied hard and focused my remaining attention on my family and friends. I can't lie, I had the best experience at UCLA, and graduating with honors, a group of really good college friends and a slew of connections thanks to my fraternity was the cherry on top.
Z and I talked on and off through email, Facebook, and, on rare occasions, on the phone.
And then, a year after grad, when I was still working with Boeing and living in L.A., she invited me to her engagement party and it felt like someone was cutting out my insides with a dull knife. I decided not to go, not to torture myself, because even though I did want to see her happy, even if it was without me, I knew there was no way I would be able to handle seeing her with someone else. Yeah, I had matured slightly at 23, but not that much. So I called her to apologize for not being able to show up, gave her a shitty excuse that I knew she saw right through, went out and got stumblingly, satisfyingly drunk.
That was the night I met Catalina, wowed her with my Spanish skills, and we dated for almost four years, until we went our own separate ways once I got a lucrative job offer with Lockheed-Martin, which needed me to move to Palmdale, California. Oh, she flipped when she realized I was taking the job, dumping me and moving back to Spain with her mother to 'realign herself'.
When Zabri broke up with her fiancé a few months later for reasons I didn't know, Cheryl pestered me to try again and I refused, respecting her wishes. I went on to date a random string of pretty girls and sought out extreme activities, living my best life while fielding mom's 'give me a grandchild' pleas.
Because that was all I could do, right?
The next few days passed just as I planned- sleep, a moderate amount of TV, tons of fatty, bad but so good junk food, an all day play date with Dani (who, at 12, had impressed us all by winning a gold medal in the Junior Olympics. Her sport of choice? Judo) and a Skype call from Hayley.
"You're coming to the wedding, right?" she exclaimed, tying her hair into a messy bun on top of her head.
I groaned, taking a sip of my beer. "You've called me twice a week since you sent out the invites, Hayley, shit. I RSVP'd. I'll be there."
"You RSVP'd to the engagement too, but guess who didn't show up?"
Her blue eyes narrowed behind her black-rimmed glasses as I protested, "I was in the hospital!"
"Mmmhmm. That reminds me. If you dare book another wingsuit or skydiving expedition, do it after the wedding." Another glare as she folded her arms across her chest. "I will not have a groomsman with a battered up face or a broken arm."
Fuck, what was it with all the women in my life trying to tell me what to do?
I exhaled loudly. "Yes, mom."
She ignored my sarcasm, electing to go off on another tangent. "Which one of your girlfriends are you bringing?" She smirked teasingly, blowing a wisp of blonde hair out of her eyes. "The redhead, the pale one, the Asian one or the Fijian one?"
"I'm coming solo," I replied calmly, not rising to the bait. "You and Cheryl don't like any of the girls I date."
Giggling, Hayley nodded. "Harsh, but accurate." She turned to glance at something on her right, then turned back to me, sighing heavily. "I gotta go, Paul is having difficulties opening a jar of pickles."
"The lid is stuck!" I heard Paul call distantly.
Hayley wagged a finger at me. "Remember, you're leaving on the 28th of June so we can catch up before everyone starts showing up on the 30th."
"Promise I'll be there," I replied, grinning at how happy she looked. "I wouldn't miss it." She smiled back at me. "Bye, Scotty."
"Bye, Hayley."
As soon as our Skype call was done, I checked my flight confirmation just to make sure, because if I arrived at Hayley's aunt's cabin in Arizona late, she would chase me out of the state.
Los Angeles Airport.
"My flight's been canceled?" I stared at the airline attendant in disbelief, my ticket and ID fanned out on the check in desk. "But I'm going to a wedding!" An image of Hayley chasing me around a room in her wedding dress appeared in my mind. Fuck. "The bride is going to kill me if I don't show up today!"
Okay, so maybe I was acting like an entitled brat, but Hayley had the power to scare the fuck out of me. Adding to the frustration was the fact that my flight had been canceled just a few minutes before I arrived at the airport. Bad fucking luck for me.
Patiently, the airline attendant said, "Give me a second, sir, I'll just check to see if we have any other flights leaving for Phoenix today."
"I really don't mind what time I get there, just as long as it's today," I told her, feeling hopeful that they would have something, even if it stopped three times before getting to Phoenix.
Rapidly, the attendant tapped away on her keyboard, her brow furrowed as I waited, hoping from foot to foot. Finally-, "We have a few cancellations on a flight that's leaving in half an hour." She glanced up at me worriedly. "Unfortunately, it has a two-hour layover in San Francisco."
Even before she had finished talking, I exclaimed, "I'll take it."
"Perfect!" A few more taps on the keyboard as a wave of relief flowed through me. "I'm just going to print you out another ticket and I'll radio ahead so they can let you on the plane." Minutes later, she handed me another ticket and boarding pass. "Here you go, sir." She shot me a wining smile that I returned gratefully. "Enjoy your flight!"
"Thank you," I said backing away from the desk and heading to the correct terminal.
The attendant at the terminal gave my ticket a cursory glance before waving me through, and I walked into the plane, hoping that my seat was by the window.
And then something happened that made me realize that life was weird and filled with miracles. Heading to my seat, I spotted Zabri and my old feelings came back (not that they ever left).
And I swear to God, even with over 300 people finding their seats or wrestling their bags into the overhead bins on the crowded plane, the only person I saw was her, long braids swinging as she bent her head to secure her seatbelt, brown skin glowing against the vibrant green dress she was wearing.
I was floored, staring at her until someone pushed past me rudely to get to his seat and Zabri glanced up and looked right at me.
And smiled, making my heart hammer in my chest because it was her, it had always been her.
That small, sweet smile was what gave me the courage to walk up to her seat, being jostled every which way by impatient passengers, and say, "There's something that I never got to say the first time we met." As she tilted her head to the side in confusion, I stuck out my hand and grinned, a small glimmer of hope stirring inside me. "Hi. I'm Scott Taylor, and it's so nice to meet you. So very, very nice."
A slow smile spread across her face, turning up her full lips as she shook my hand, her fingers warm and slight. "Nice to meet you, Scott Taylor. I'm Zabri Mitchell, and I believe this seat isn't taken." She glanced around furtively, then winked slyly at me as she removed her hand from my grasp. "And if it belongs to someone, they can sit in your spot."
And as I sat down, breathing her oh so familiar scent, the hope warming my skin grew, because maybe, after all those years of acting like the living embodiment of danger, maybe I was getting another chance to be a part of Z's life, no matter how insignificant. I was ready to be mellow again.
Zabriana's Point of View.
Ten years later too. Glendale, California.
People never talk about their first therapy session, but every time I did a talk at elementary, middle and high schools (more on that later), that's the first anecdote I started with, because for most of my life, I had been all about keeping my emotions to myself. My first therapy session, I could barely talk for crying as all my pent-up anger, frustration and sadness escaped like air out of a balloon. And it helped me more than anything has ever helped me (apart from Mama Rae's great pep talks). Now, ten years later, I was a psychologist, mere months from becoming Dr. Zabriana Mitchell, a proud aunt to a precocious eight-year-old called Raegan, and I was the happiest I'd ever been.
Oh, and I was also the proud owner of a rose tattoo growing out of the concrete. It was on my forearm, along with the words 'Did you hear about the rose that grew, from a crack in the concrete? Proving nature's law is wrong it, learned to walk with out having feet. Funny it seems, but by keeping its dreams, it learned to breathe fresh air. Long live the rose that grew from concrete, when no one else ever cared' from Tupac's book of poetry. The first time I read the poem, it struck a chord in me so deep that I almost felt winded. He was talking about me, it seemed, and I held those poignant words close to my heart.
When I transferred to UC San Diego, I was a mixture of emotions. Excited to be putting an unsavory chapter of my life behind me, sad because of Scott, and nervous at what the future held. My new roommate, Devonn, was sweet- all eleven times I saw her for the next three years. She was rarely home, staying with her boyfriend off-campus, which meant I got the entire room to myself. I made new friends, decided to join a few interesting clubs and study groups and integrated into the community. UC San Diego was where I met my soon to be fiancé, even though we were just friends for about a year before he made a move. A year after we graduated, he asked me to marry him, and I happily said yes, because I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.
Once I finished my Masters (to the chagrin of my parents, I decided to pursue psychology because I uncovered a rabid interest in it during undergrad), Rogue (yup, the one and the same) got me a speaking gig at a local high school.
"The speaker dropped out, so I told them you would do it," she said lazily, sprawling out on my couch in the apartment I shared with Trent.
I threw my hands up in the air. It was just like Rogue to make me commit to something I didn't know about. "How could you- what am I even supposed to talk about?"
"It's a self-esteem boosting thing. Basically, you go, talk about your experiences in school and tell them how it gets better." She shrugged. "I personally think you'll do a great job."
As vague as she was, it sounded like a pretty interesting topic, so I did it and enjoyed it immensely. There was something cathartic about talking about how my teen life had been less than stellar and giving the young women hope that things would be okay. The talk was a success, and soon I had other schools reaching out to me, asking me to host workshops, give more talks- and Rogue just smiled knowingly as I told her the news.
"I knew they'd like you," was all she said about pushing me into a career I had no idea I wanted to do.
When I was 27, I missed my period and thought I was pregnant. When I told Trent, excited, he chose that moment to tell me he didn't want kids, asking me what I was going to do.
I broke up with him, found out that I wasn't pregnant, and went on with my life after an ice cream and sad movie session with Cheryl and Tina.
My home base was still Glendale, and one day, when I was on my way home after giving a talk at my alma mater, Glendale High, I ran into Pauline Taylor for the first time in years.
"Oh, my God, Zabri!" she exclaimed, giving me a tight hug.
Hugging her back, I said, "Pauline! Hi!"
God, it had been years since I had seen her, and her green eyes glinted with joy as she took a step back to look at me. "You look amazing! I love the braids," she said approvingly.
"Thank you! Are you busy? Do you have time for a quick coffee?" I asked her, remembering with a stab of sadness the last time we had had tea together. Her eyes had been so filled with pain, the loss of Alex still so recent. It was ten years later, and I was glad to see that genuine smile on her face again.
Shaking back her long blonde hair, Pauline said, "I just got done with a client and was actually popping in to get a coffee myself. Let's catch up!"
We sat on a bench overlooking a park and chatted about everything under the sun. I told her about Mimi and Harry's daughter, Raegan, and how she was already showing a talent for writing, mom and dad and their eight-year anniversary (sigh), and how Mama Rae was, at 75, learning how to salsa dance.
"And what about you? What has Zabri been up to?" Pauline asked curiously. "I heard about your self-esteem talks from Dani of all people. She said you did one at her school."
I nodded, remembering how surprised I had been to look at the class list only to see Dani's name. It hadn't been hard to figure out which tween she was, even though the last time I had seen her was at Paul and Hayley's beach barbeque engagement three years ago. With her sleek black hair, almond shaped turquoise eyes and cheeky grin, she looked ridiculously like Scott. "She came up to me afterwards and said thank you, because some of her friends were going through some tough times with their families and she knew my speech would help them."
"That's our Dani," Pauline smiled fondly. "So intuitive." Her smile slipped and she sighed. "Sometimes I wonder what kind of person Alex would have been. I always think he'd have been the happy-go-lucky Taylor. The class clown, making everyone laugh and going out of his way to help people."
Nodding, I said, "He always had such a happy spirit. He would have been following Dani around everywhere, making people's days that much better with his presence."
Pensively, I realized that he would have been 13 by now. What a sad, sad time in everyone's lives.
"So are you back in school?" Pauline changed the subject as she dashed a tear from her eye. "At Hayley's engagement, you said you were thinking of getting your doctorate?"
Bashfully, I said, "I'll be finished in December."
Doctor Zabriana Mitchell. I hardly dared to think those words, lest I jinx myself.
"Congratulations!" Pauline exclaimed. "I'm so happy for you!"
I smiled gratefully. "Thank you. I feel like I've come a long way from my 16-year-old self."
"Yeah, you have. Confidence is key, and you are wearing it well," Pauline bobbed her head up and down. "That, and you just seem so- happy. I feel like you're in a really good place."
Tapping my chin, I thought about this for a second. I had just gotten booked for two more talks before Hayley and Paul's wedding, as well as one workshop, so the money was rolling in. My relationship with my family had strengthened and I realized that putting myself first didn't make me selfish, it was just a form of self-care. Yes, I was in a great place. "I am," I admitted, smiling.
"I wish Scott was," Pauline sighed, and I couldn't help but smile even more at the irritated expression on her pretty face. I realized that my stomach had stopped doing that little drop every time I heard Scott's name. Now all I felt was a hint of nostalgia as well as regret that things had ended the way they did. I pushed these feelings to the back of my mind for later as Pauline continued. "He's in the hospital again."
Groaning, I asked, "What now?"
It seemed that Scott was in the hospital every other week, if he wasn't doing something stupid like deep sea diving.
"Concussion. He went wingsuit jumping." Pauline sounded disgusted as I cringed, envisioning Scott hitting his head after a jump gone wrong. God, he was still foolishly impulsive. "He won't listen to me when I tell him enough is enough. He needs someone to keep him grounded."
My cheeks burned as she shot me a knowing look that I had no trouble deciphering. She didn't mean just any old somebody, she meant me.
Rogue and Cheryl popped over to visit the day before I was set to fly out to Phoenix for the wedding of the year. Hayley and Paul were finally walking down the aisle and Cheryl, one of Hayley's cousins, Paul's younger sister, and I were bridesmaids.
Rogue sat cross-legged on my bedroom floor, a drink in her hand as she watched me pack, occasionally saying, "Not that one," to the clothes I was folding into my suitcase. Cheryl lay on my bed, a bottle of beer in one hand as we chatted about nothing in particular. The talk invariably turned to guys and Cheryl blurted out, "Why haven't you see Scott in years?"
Oh, God.
"Why are we even talking about Scott?" I asked, my bottom lip jutting out as I went on the defensive. First Pauline, now Cheryl. Bad enough that I would have to see him in person tomorrow- I was already nervous about that, even though I had no right to be. After all, we talked on the phone quite often, and although it was still pretty shaky, we had rebuilt our friendship.
Ignoring my question, Cheryl asked a question of her own. "Would you give him another chance?"
"What?" I stared at her, my heart beating irrationally quickly as an image of Scott materialized before my eyes.
Cheryl shrugged. "Ross and Rachel worked out, and they had a similar issue."
"You comparing Zabri and Scott to Ross and Rachel is weird, but accurate," Rogue said, raising her glass in Cheryl's direction.
I sighed. The thought of me giving Scott another chance- it was loaded. For one, I didn't even know if he wanted another chance. We had both moved on from our relationship, and even though I had come to terms with the past, there was always this little niggling feeling in the back of my mind that thought that the second I saw Scott in person, my willpower would bend and I'd be 19 years old again, broken but deeply in love. I never wanted to be that person again. Was that why I had kept my distance from Scott for all these years?
Tugging on a braid, I said, "Sometimes things don't work out. Scott and I were one of those things," as I wondered if I even believed those words.
"I don't know, man," Cheryl said thoughtfully, wiggling her toes. "I don't think your story is over yet."
Los Angeles Airport.
I got to the airport early, checked in, and was one of the first people on the busy plane. Another flight to Phoenix, scheduled for later that afternoon, had been canceled and people were being redirected to this flight. Luckily, I bagged a seat next to the window and put my seatbelt on, wondering who I would have the fortune of sitting next to.
As I fiddled with my seat belt, a shadow fell over me and I glanced up to see Scott in the aisle, familiar aqua eyes staring at me, tentative smile on his face, and just like that, all the memories came back.
He looked older, hair still messy, skin more tanned, a hint of scruffy stubble on his face as he stopped in the aisle next to me. And that was when I realized that I had finally let go of all the sadness, the guilt, the blame and animosity I once had whenever I thought about him. Here and now, ten years down the line, I was looking into the eyes of the boy (now a man) I had loved so fiercely when I was 16, and I felt like new beginnings were actually possible.
Because the old Zabriana Mitchell, the insecure, damaged girl who had left UCLA in a storm of tears- that girl was gone. In her place was the Zabri who made decisions that impacted her positively. The Zabri who didn't let other people dictate her happiness. The Zabri who put herself first, trusted her intuition, and occasionally gave second chances.
And going by the hesitant look in Scott's eyes, going by our phone conversations, going by what his parents, our mutual friends, and even Rogue said, he was wanting a second chance from me. Whether we started off as friends again and transitioned to something more was completely up to us. Because, sometimes there was hope.
And that glimmer of hope was evident on Scott's face as he walked up to my seat, ignoring all the people bumping into him as they maneuvered past him, and said, "There's something I never got to say to you when we first met." A heartbreakingly familiar lopsided grin on his face, he extended his hand towards me. "I'm Scott Taylor, and it's so nice to meet you." He let out a deep breath, his eyes locked on mine. "So very, very nice."
I felt a smile spread across my face as I realized that he was right. Our first meeting hadn't consisted of any introductions at all, just as yelling at each other. "Nice to meet you, Scott Taylor. I'm Zabri Mitchell, and I believe this seat isn't taken." I removed my hand from his reluctantly, glancing around to see if there was anyone who looked remotely interested in the empty aisle seat next to me, then turned back to Scott, winking. "And if it belongs to someone, they can sit in your spot."
Chuckling, Scott hoisted his bag into the overhead bin before he dropped his lean body into the seat next to me. "You look good," he said quietly, eyes roving over my face admiringly. "Happier than I've ever seen you."
"Thank you," I smiled, sneaking a glance at him too. The unshaven look was working for him. With a pang, I realized he had removed his lip ring, before mentally slapping myself, because why was I staring at his lips? "I am. It took me a few years, but I've never been happier to be me."
Nodding, Scott said, "That's good," staring at his hands. He glanced up at me, biting his lip out of habit, I guess. "Remember the last time we saw each other?"
"Yeah," I whispered, remembering the emotionally charged scene in my room as I begged Scott to let me go. Even now, thinking about it hurt, almost as badly as the Trent debacle. "I do."
"And I said I would make it up to you if it took my entire life to do?"
His voice sounded so earnest as I wiggled in my seat uncomfortably. "Scott-."
"I have to say this," Scott interrupted, his eyes sincere. "Do you remember?"
"Yes."
Sighing, Scott said, "I still want to make it up to you but- you don't need it."
Okay then.
"Explain?" I asked, cocking my head.
Scott stared at me, a strange look in his blue-green eyes. "You always had this air around you- like you couldn't believe we were together. Even though I was a piece of shit, you always had that." He paused, his eyebrows drawn in thought. "And I think- I know- that it stroked my ego. When you left, I always thought you'd come back because you needed to be with me like I needed to be with you. To make me whole." A shrug. "I thought you needed me to complete you, because I needed you to complete me. But you don't." As I listened intently to his words, he shot me a sunny smile. "And I'm glad, because you're putting yourself first like you said you would."
"I started living for myself," I agreed, even though what he had just revealed was swirling around my head, clamouring for me to analyze his speech. "Ten years later, I'm finally who I wanted to be when I grew up."
A proud smile on his face, Scott covered my hand with mine, and something coiled deep in my stomach at the light touch. "I'm so happy for you, hun."
"I'm happy for you too," I admitted, deciding not to even mention how warm, comforted and happy hearing his old pet name for me made me feel.
Frowning slightly, Scott asked, "Me? Why?"
"You finally grew up too," I replied, putting my other hand on top of his. "And you know what?"
Voice rough with emotion, Scott said, "What?"
"I don't need someone completing me and making me whole."
Nodding adamantly, Scott protested, "I know that."
"But- I have this theory that nobody belongs to someone." I swallowed hard as I looked into Scott's eyes, seeing the hope, sadness and resignation in them as I took the plunge and said, "But some people- some people belong together." Scott's eyes widened as that little glimmer of hope grew. "Right now, what I need is an adventure." I smiled as I realized that I was on the right track. What I was saying, what I was thinking finally felt right, which was a rarity when it came to Scott. "And we've got an eight-hour flight, so why not get reacquainted? Because I know you like adventures too…"
And we started talking like we had just seen each other a few days ago instead of ten years, and it was easy and painful and healing at the same time and I knew, deep in my heart, that this was the start of something good. Maybe a friendship or even relationship wouldn't work out again, but seeing if it would was part of the adventure...
I intended to enjoy every moment of this ride, because last time I saw him, I had tears in my eyes as I put myself first and let him go, but this time…this time, when I saw him, I smiled.
Zabriana Mitchell was finally whole and at peace, and it showed in every fiber of my being. For the first time in my life, I was no longer the good girl going crazy.
A/N: I don't often blow my own horn, but that ending right there? That. Ending. Right. There. I've been wanting to write an ending like that for the longest, something ambiguous, will they or won't they, and I'm muy proud of myself.
Thank you to all of the Guest reviews, Alixermixer (x2), Puccapurple, Lilly, Sweetstart (x3), twobrightstars, Charchar777 (x2), Lily, VioletThelaw, annayh44 and Chimel321 for your reviews! I appreciate each and every one of your reviews, and I have much love for you all! Your input, feedback and kind words are all appreciated, my amazing fp fam :)
The finale comes on Tuesday, when I hit you with the epilogue that people seem to want. Yeah, I know I'm not supposed to cave in to people's demands (but I do because although I write for myself, I write for y'all too), but I want to write an epilogue too, and let's face it, Zabri with a kid would be kinda adorable to see. As to whether she ends up with Scott or a completely different guy, spoilers!
Also, next chapter will have the longest authors note ever so...be prepared to skim it all!
Oh, and, before I forget- I've updated the photo gallery on my website, so head on over to hotcheriwrites dot com and check out the GGGCUE photo gallery. I think I've finally (after 7 plus years, sheesh) found the perfect Scott! You be the judge. Also, if you want to have a say in what I write next, vote on the Fiction Corner, where I'll be posting my new, original fiction and become a member of the site to have access to my new stuff.