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His eyes were filled with so much pity I almost preferred him laughing at my expense.
Later, on the car ride home, as I tried to hide the tears streaming down my cheeks, I remember him gripping the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white before saying, "Don't let her get to you, Jenny. She's just jealous."
I always thought it was odd he said that to me. That he tried to make me feel better when he was the one picking on me most of the time. The difference was, he never did it in front of other people. And he never insulted my appearance. Ever.
I feel awful thinking that he was always right there all that time, and I couldn't see him. Not while Matt stood in the foreground taking up all of my time, my attention, the space in my heart.
I shouldn't have agreed to go on a date with Matt. And I definitely shouldn't have kissed him. Not until I knew what was going on with Kyle.
I don't know what I was thinking.
It was stupid.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I hate that I can't go back and undo it, make the right choice.
Would I still have made the right choice, even if things were different?
If Audra wasn't pregnant? If I hadn't thought Kyle was with another girl? What decision would I have made then?
I think I know, deep down, that I'd still choose Kyle.
I'd choose his moodiness and his aloofness and his gentleness and his patience.
I hope I didn't mess things up, ruin my chance to be with him.
He'll forgive me for kissing Matt. He just has to.
His black car pulls into the parking lot, the sight making my heart race faster. I run my sweaty palms over my jeans, hope Kyle doesn't notice how clammy they are if he tries to hold my hand.
I hope he holds my hand.
He parks close by before getting out and carrying two cups, one in each hand. He passes one to me when he reaches me, slides a straw out of his back pocket, and holds it out. When I take it from him, our fingertips graze and my skin explodes with heat.
He sits beside me, his arm and his leg brushing against mine. I look down at the drink in my hand.
Hot chocolate.
My heart melts like the whipped cream barely visible in my cup.
I know I shouldn't be surprised he brought me my favorite drink since he's done it before, but I am. Why does he have to be so thoughtful? Especially when I'm about to tell him how inconsiderate I've been.
I take a sip, let the warm liquid slide down my dry throat, give myself a moment before I possibly destroy any chance I have of getting naked with him again.
I really want to.
Get naked with him.
"Do you miss it?" I ask Kyle as I gesture to the entrance behind me, trying not to gape at how devastatingly good-looking he is.
He looks over his shoulder. "High school? Not for a second."
"But you were so popular," I jokingly tease. "Everyone seemed to like you," a beat before I add, "most of the time."
I see a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. He peers down at the concrete steps, tries to hide his face. "The only person I wanted to like me wouldn't give me the time of day."
I feel my mouth split into a huge smile. "Are you talking about me?" I playfully nudge his shoulder, rest my chin on the top of his arm, watch his dark eyes soften when he looks down at me. We hold each other's gaze for a moment, that electrical spark surging between us.
