Page 103 of Fake it for Keeps

“You never showed up,” I finished quietly.

“Hallie.” He sat up fully now, running both hands through his hair. “Shit. I was such an ass.”

I couldn’t believe he remembered. All this time, I’d thought I was forgettable. That the whole thing had been so insignificant to him that it hadn’t even registered.

But he remembered.

“Why?” The question that had burned in me for ten years finally came out. “Why did you ask me to meet you if you had no intention of showing up?”

“I did intend to show up,” he said quickly. “I swear, Hallie. I was going to be there.”

“Then what happened?”

He sighed, and the sound was heavy with regret. “My buddies came over. They were heading to some tailgate party at the college. Said there would be college girls there. Beer. The whole scene.” He looked at me, his expression miserable. “I was seventeen and stupid. They convinced me to go with them instead.”

“So you just… forgot about me?”

“No. I didn’t forget.” He shook his head. “I thought about texting you, but I was already at the party, already drinking. I told myself I’d make it up to you later. That it wasn’t a big deal.”

“It was a big deal to me,” I whispered.

“I know that now. Fuck, Hallie, I’m so sorry.” He reached for my hand. “I wish I had a better answer. I wish I could say something came up, some emergency, anything other than the truth. But the truth is I was selfish. I chose a party over you, and that was shitty.”

Tears pricked at my eyes. Not because I was sad—though part of me was—but because after all these years, I finally had an answer. He hadn’t stood me up because there was something wrong with me. He’d done it because he was a stupid teenager who made a stupid choice.

“Thank you,” I said, wiping at my eyes. “For being honest.”

“Hey.” His expression grew alarmed when he saw my tears. “Shit. What’s wrong? Don’t cry.”

“I’m not.” I laughed through the tears. “Okay, I am crying. But it’s not all bad.”

“Tell me.” He cupped my face in his hands. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”

The words spilled out. About how much it had hurt that night. About sitting on the beach for hours, waiting, hoping. About the humiliation when I’d finally given up and gone home. About how my friends had made fun of me for thinking someone like him could ever be interested in someone like me.

“Everyone kept saying I was delusional,” I said, my voice breaking. “That of course you didn’t show up. Why would Colt Jesson want to hang out with Hallie Bellrose? I was just some girl with a stupid crush, and you were you.” I gestured vaguely.

His expression crumbled as he realized how badly he’d hurt me. How that one thoughtless decision had affected me for years.

“Hallie,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I know⁠—”

“No, you don’t understand.” He pulled me into his arms, holding me so tight I could barely breathe. “I wish I could take it back. I wish I could go back to that night and choose differently. Choose you instead of that stupid party.”

I clung to him, my face pressed against his chest, and let myself cry. Really cry. For the seventeen-year-old girl who’d felt so small and worthless. For the years of insecurity that had followed. For the anger I’d carried for so long.

“I forgive you,” I whispered against his skin.

He pulled back to look at me, his eyes suspiciously bright. “You do?”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “You were a kid. We both were. And you were honest with me just now. That means something.”

He pressed his forehead to mine. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

“Maybe not. But you have it anyway.”

We lay holding each other in the dark. And then something shifted inside me. Like the sharp, jagged pieces of my heart were finally smoothing out.