(Something about this kind of felt wrong. So it might not be my best Davian and Maisie. Just letting you know.)

I’ve created a monster worse than the ones in movies. If I could just have told Maisie the truth before I fell for her maybe things would be different.

I’m certain no matter what I’d still think about her every day. She’s changed my life, and I’m never going to forget that.

I lick my lips, as I sit on my porch a can of root beer at my feet. It’s always been my go to drink, if I had a sucky day at school root beer, if I failed a test root beer, if I lied and felt bad about it . . . Apparently root beer doesn’t solve that guilt.

I’m pretty sure the only one who can fix my mistake is me. This isn’t a class at school where I can just ask the teacher and get them to do the work for me. This isn’t anything that I can google and a list of links will pop up with solutions to this mess I’ve got myself in.

So why’d I ask Tommy?

He didn’t yell at me . . . Until I told him about how we’ve sort of kissed, and how she almost ended her life. He said I should tell her and fix everything.

Gosh, I was hoping he’d tell me to forget about it. To just live life with Maisie and if the time ever came up sure spill my secret.

Who am I kidding? Of course he didn’t tell me to do that! The fact that I’ve let our relationship go this far without saying something is strange for me.

“You going to finish that?”

Maisie’s soft voice floods my ears as she slumps down next to me. Suddenly everything feels just a tiny bit better.

I pick up the half empty can and hand it to Maisie. She takes a long drink, wiping her mouth as she scrunches her nose. I guess I should have told her I didn’t shake it until all the bubbles faded away.

Maisie lifts the can back to her lips, taking another drink.

“Everything good?” I ponder as Maisie lowers the can.

She sighs, flicking her eyes to mine. “Do you ever think that no matter what you do, you’ll never be who you want to be?”

All the time, it’s always the first thought that pops up in my mind when I open my eyes. And lying to Maisie isn’t helping at all.

I close my eyes, rubbing my hand against the rough porch step. “I don’t think,” I say. “I know.”

Maisie takes another drink her blue eyes lingering on the houses across the street.

“You’re different,” I whisper. “You’ll be who you need to be, when you need to.”

I don’t have a clue if what I’ve said means anything to Maisie. She doesn’t give me anything, she just keeps sipping the soda watching the neighbors.

“You really think that,” she finally asks, her eyes watching a little boy as he throws a baseball to his father.

My eyes fly to Maisie’s left wrist, it’s still bright pink but the cut is starting to heal. Maisie did this because she thought she wasn’t enough, because the weight of the world finally became to much. But she pushed passed it, she’s already changed.

“I do,” I murmur stretching my arm around Maisie’s shoulders as the boy across the street yells jumping up and down, a huge smile covering his face.

“I want to smile like that,” Maisie breathes, leaning her head against my shoulder.

I swallow, lifting my head to look at the darkening sky. “Me too.”