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Stupid pride.
It wasn’t that I hadjustrealized I wanted him now that my relationship was over. I’d wanted him all along. But to face that would mean facing the fact that I’d lied to him—the person I’d always wanted to be honest with. And wherever Dexter and I were involved, disaster struck.
“You know, one day I’m going to get really sick of your shit,” he said.
I spread my arms. Instead of backing down, I got more defensive.
Really stupid pride.
“Aren’t you sick of it yet? No? Well, how about I lost a child? How about I lost my brother? My parents? How about I fought alcohol addiction at an age when girls were packing for college? What the hell have you lost, Dexter?” I wiped at the tears that fell from my eyes. I was fighting dirty, as usual.
“I lost a child, too. And I lost you. Which trumps anything you’ve ever encountered.” He swung the door open so hard it bounced off my wall, and then he walked out.
I looked toward the stairs to make sure Dylan hadn’t woken up. Mom instincts never died.
I sank to the floor, praying he’d never come back. I loved him but it hurt.
Dexter was my truth. And I wasn’t ready to face him yet.
I didn’t think I’d ever be ready to.
Noa
My first dayback at school wasn’t monumental. I didn’t have anyone waiting for me. No one other than the teachers even acknowledged my absence. With my head down, I heard their whispers and curiosity were geared toward Dexter Andrews.
He’d been back almost a month already. And while they all had their opinions of him, it seemed the verdict was still out. Some said he’d been the one to jump in front of the car. Others said the car hit him as he strolled innocently across. The one thing that couldn’t be ignored was the fact that he’d inadvertently killed one of his best friends. There were more whispers that questioned the validity of his amnesia. But all I knew was that, despite my own demons, I was happy not to be in his shoes.
I almost died the same day he had, and no one noticed. I spent weeks in therapy and these students, these judgmental teenagers, were none the wiser.
I clutched my books to my chest, hoping I would never be their topic of conversation. I was almost there, the door in front of me when I was pushed from behind.
“Move it,” a female voice hissed.
Becca Hamilton. Bitch beyond compare.
“‘Excuse me’ is the term you’re looking for,” I said as I gathered myself, pushing into her to walk ahead of her.
“Whatever.”
I heard the word curl from her snarl and I shrugged. Such a shame that was all she had. How dare she act like I was nobody? How dare theyallact like I was nobody? Sure, it didn’t help that I refused to socialize, and I reveled in the idea of being alone forever.
But I was different now. I was starting over. And damn it, I wasn’t going to be ignored anymore.
The crowd parted, and it was a sign. Or maybe it was the weeks of therapy giving me forced optimism. Because I saw him and I was a different person. At least, I wanted to be.
I’d been infatuated with Dexter Andrews since the first day of second grade when he walked into my class. He was one of those guys who existed on his own rules.
While I went through my own rocky period of puberty, Dexter remained beautiful—not a pimple on his face, not a hair out of place. It was unfair. And while he had many admirers, he couldn’t be bothered. He was bored, his blue eyes always skimming past and onto a new idea or adventure. The only one who’d been able to keep his attention had been Becca Hamilton.
Until now.
Now, I was going to get his attention, one way or another. If he brushed me off, fine. But I wasn’t going to let myself sink into the background anymore. If nothing happened, it would be no fault of mine—for once.
He wasn’t paying attention, as usual, so I placed myself strategically in line with him, walking in front of him and waiting for the collision. His eyes were on the ground, and I got the air that he was bothered over something.
I stopped, realizing how stupid I was being. Instead of moving to the side, too transfixed on the way his bright eyes looked cast downward, I remained there, stuck. He bumped into me and I dropped my books, overwhelmed by years of pent-up fascination and finally being touched by the one person I’d dreamed of.
He stared at me as though he was shocked I even existed.
