AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You were clearly still hung up on that article,” I fire back. “You made me feel like shit.”
“That was kind of the point, after what you did to my brother.” Still not looking him in the eye. The sharp jut of his chin. A trio of freckles on his right cheek. The entitlement and calculation of him asking me to prom, being kind to me all evening, whisking me into a hotel room. A confidence that I’ve never known. “Are you the one who’s been fucking with me all day?”
I nod, unable to articulate my precise frustration at his total non-reaction. He’s almost smirking, now that he’s identified me as the culprit. Realized I’m not a real threat.
On-screen, the clock radio hits six o’clock. Sonny and Cher. Okay, campers, rise and shine, and don’t forget your booties ’cause it’s cold out there today!
“You were so nice to me at first.” It comes out in a whisper. No one had been that nice to me in so long. I press those feelings back down, urge myself to put the armor back on. I will not cry in front of him. “Did you plan it out with your friends beforehand? Brainstorm different seduction tactics? Or did you figure I was so pathetic, I’d jump into bed with you just because you deigned to speak to me?”
His expression hardens. “I wouldn’t call it brainstorming, exactly….” But the way his voice trails off does plenty to answer the question, making me feel even more ill.
Still, I make myself keep going. “I hope that hashtag and all those flowers gave your brother his scholarship back. I hope they fixed his self-esteem, or whatever it is you think I stole from him.”
“Look,” Cole says, craning his neck to see the screen, “I don’t want to be a dick, but my friends are waiting for me, and I really like this movie.”
It occurs to me that I could stand up in front of all these people, yell that I am, in fact, pregnant, and that the baby is his. I could ruin his Wednesday in a thousand different ways, worse ways, and it wouldn’t change what happened in May.
Everything I want to say jams in my throat. You fucking pathetic made me feel worthless made me feel insignificant how could you think in what universe was that did you ever feel sorry did you ever regret it I thought you were kind nice decent asshole asshole asshole asshole.
Instead the only thing that comes out is “Okay.”
“You know—” He breaks off, as though weighing what he wants to say next. “You weren’t bad, if that’s what you’re worried about. You were… eager. Fun.” His lips curl upward at that. “Hardly a zero out of ten.”
Of course, my sexual performance was what kept me awake at night. “I’m glad ruining my life wasn’t such a chore for you.”
He might actually roll his eyes. “No one ruined your life. School was almost over, and you’re here in college, aren’t you?” As though there’s only one way to ruin someone’s life. “If anything, consider it a favor. Now you won’t have to stumble through it with the next dude, whoever that lucky guy ends up being.”
But just as he turns his back, I get another burst of adrenaline. I can’t let it go. Can’t let him just walk away, perfectly content with the kind of person he is.
Courage. Come the fuck on.
“You—you really made me hate myself,” I say, and when he faces me again, I finally drag my eyes to his, letting the blankness in his expression fuel me even more. I press my feet firmly into the ground, as though it might be tugged out from under me at any second. “All the flowers. Turning my last name into a joke. It was my first time, as you know, because I told you, and you went on to make that clever hashtag.” I told Miles I didn’t have any sentimentality attached to it, that I hadn’t cared if my first time was special. But I was wrong, wrong, wrong. It was never up to me—it was always up to the guy standing right here. I was never in control. “You can move on, have all the fun you wanted to in college. I’ll be a footnote, something hilarious that happened in high school that you can laugh about with your buddies when you’re in your forties and wondering why you can’t form lasting romantic relationships with anyone. Meanwhile, I’m going to have to remember this for the rest of my life. The rest of my fucking life, because you took that away from me.”
I’m breathing hard, choking on a gasp, my chest tight and hot and vision blurring at the edges. It’s a physical pain, letting all of this out—and yet while it’s exactly what I wanted to say, I don’t instantly feel better.
So I keep going.
“And,” I say, and this was really the least important part of it all, in hindsight, and he probably didn’t care, but I might as well bash his ego while I’m at it, “I didn’t come.”
He examines me, head to toe, one arm lazily triangled behind his head. For a moment I think he might apologize. He’ll fucking grovel, drop to his feet and smack his knees on the cement and beg my forgiveness.
Instead, he turns around and says absolutely nothing.
DAY TWENTY-SIX
Chapter 32
LUCIE LAMONT STARES ME DOWN in our dorm room, certain the school has made a mistake.
Again.
Of course she’s still annoyed with me. Of course she doesn’t remember what happened yesterday.
Once she leaves, I yell a stream of colorful curses into my pillow, banging my fist against it until it’s a flat blue pancake. My left side is still sore and Jocelyn will never propose to my mom and I won’t make it onto the Washingtonian. Lucie and I might briefly reconcile, if I can bring myself to put in the effort again, but we’ll never be friends.
And prom.
If Cole was the major loose end in my life, then the thread is only longer and more tangled than it was before I confronted him. If he really was my unfinished business, like my mom suggested, then today should be September 22. I said exactly what I wanted, but I’m not free and I don’t feel any better. If anything, I feel worse.
