Текст книги "The Singles"
Автор книги: Emily Snow
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Текущая страница: 34 (всего у книги 45 страниц)
I just won’t be going.
And for the next ten days, until my second lesson with Professor Cameron in her office on the following Wednesday, this is how my relationship with Rhys plays out. We see each other every Monday and Wednesday in class and in the hallways of the music building, but I miss each of our lessons—three in all so far. He doesn’t confront me on why; he just gives me a shrug or a nod when I approach him to spout off some bullshit excuse about forgetting or something coming up.
But when Professor Cameron interrupts my lesson for the third time in fifteen minutes, she’s clearly irritated. Shutting off the metronome, she takes off her glasses and massages her fingers over the bridge of her nose.
“That was horrible. We have more work to do than I thought,” she says bluntly.
I stare up from the sheet music on the stand in front of me. “What?”
Releasing a sigh, Professor Cameron stands up from the upright piano situated in the corner of her office and cracks her knuckles. “This is a basic piece. Rhys had me under the assumption that you were progressing quickly with the private lessons and with sight singing, but I’m not entirely sure I believe him. So I want to know what’s going on, and I want to know now.”
Chapter Six
Too stunned to react just yet, I simply stare unblinking across the room as she stares back at me expectantly.
Wait.
What?
Rhys had lied and told her I’ve been coming to my lessons with him? Why would he do that when it’s also his ass on the line? Rolling my tongue over my lips, I pretend to study my sheet music. “It’s coming along,” I say carefully, not wanting to get him in trouble. “Slowly.”
“Slowly,” Professor Cameron repeats, drawing that single word out. She taps her index finger thoughtfully against her sharp chin. “I’m going to check your schedule and then, if your other classes allow it, I’ll speak to Rhys about you taking a third lesson with him on Thursdays.”
Shit.
Another lesson added to the two that I’m already avoiding at all costs.
Wonderful.
After a few moments of awkward quietness between us, Professor Cameron asks me in the gentlest voice I’ve heard her use to date, “You don’t have a problem with Mr. Delane, do you?”
After that first day of class and missing my lesson with Rhys, I fully planned on meeting with her to discuss my issues. I was going to take Kendra’s advice, tell Cameron discretely what my problem was, and hope that she’d understood. That was until I had dinner with both Mac and Nathan—who already knew each other from the music department choir, which is obligatory for all music majors and minors—last Tuesday night.
Even though they knew nothing about my specific situation, their discussion about my advisor’s quick dismissal of what she deemed “petty problems” swayed my plans. Like a coward, I simply chose to avoid the situation instead of confronting it directly.
Now, with Professor Cameron’s frustration at my lack of progress and her preparing to speak to Rhys directly about her dissatisfaction, I realize it’s time for me to do something.
“There’s no problem,” I rush to assure her. “But, I ... I can send an email to Rhys to see if we can make our lessons a little longer.” Closing my eyes for a second, I curse myself for being too stupid to realize this would happen. “If that’s alright with you, of course.”
When I open my eyes, I see that she’s giving me one of her rare smiles—or at least, what closely resembles a smile.
“I can always appreciate initiative, so yes, it’s fine with me. I’ll check in with Rhys as well.” Assuming her seat behind the piano again, she slides her glasses back on and flips to the beginning of the sheet music. “Let’s see if you can sludge through this a couple more times in the next fifteen minutes.”
Flustered, as soon as my lesson is over I search the music building for Rhys. I want to get to him before Cameron has the opportunity to. When I’m unable to find him, I take off for my dorm room, passing by Nathan and promising to text him later along the way. When I reach my room, pausing for just a moment in the doorway to let the air conditioner blow over me, I’m not at all surprised to find Daniel with Corinne. They’ve been spending a lot of time with each other lately—which means she’s had less reason to dig into every detail of my personal life—but I’m reserving my opinion on him.
He hasn’t tried to talk me into going to his room again since that first night, but he reminds me so much of James, my douchey ex, that I can’t help but distrust him.
“Trying out for cross country?” he jokes from his spot on Corinne’s bed where they’re playing some PS3 game. I shoot him a sharp look because the first image that pops into my mind is that of my sister in that red and white cross country tracksuit.
“Evie swears she hates sports,” Corinne states, and Daniel grabs his chest in mock injury.
“You’re killing me, Miller,” he says as I slide down behind my computer chair and flip my laptop open. “Besides, I could’ve sworn I saw you wearing a Duke basketball shirt last week.”
“I like Duke.” I cast a wary glance over my shoulder, not missing the way Corinne flashes a slightly hurt look at him. “Lend me that kickass memory of yours for my world history test tomorrow,” I say jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.
I turn back to my computer. It takes me a few tries to access my campus email—I’ve only checked it once since the first day of class—but once I’m logged in, I see there are two new messages from Rhys, one for each lesson I skipped after the first.
“Let me guess, late assignment?” Daniel asks, and I nod, glad he can’t see me rolling my eyes.
“Tell you what, you let me get this in on time, and I’ll come with Corinne to all your baseball games and show tons of ... school spirit, okay?”
Temporarily placated, Daniel returns his attention to the video game, but I can feel his eyes on the back of my neck as I open Rhys’ first message.
From: [email protected]
Date: Fri, Aug 23, 2013 at 4:42 PM
Subject: Time
It’s now past 4:30 (your lesson started at four, in case you were curious) and I’ve made a list of all the things I could have done with my time while I waited for you to stand me up again.
1. Go to my other job. Yes, I have two. It’s one of those sacrifices you’ll eventually make when you grow up.
2. Clean my apartment. Yet another sacrifice.
3. Get a head start on grading for next week.
4. Are you getting the gist of this yet? Let me know what your plans are for Monday.
In the second email, the one sent Monday around noon, his message is much less scathing—a simple request for me to let him know by three if I’d be at our four PM lesson, otherwise he would assume I didn’t plan to show up.
Staring at the words on the screen, I feel my face heat up at the shame that starts to roll through me. Selfish. Always, always selfish. Hitting reply to the email he sent me two days ago, I type a quick note, Rhys, I was wondering if you might have a chance to talk this afternoon? and then hit send. I barely have enough time to check my Gmail account before I see a new email from him pop up in my campus email.
From: [email protected]
Date: Wed, Aug 28, 2013 at 5:03 PM
Subject: Re: Time
Will twenty minutes from now in PR#4 work for you?
It takes me a minute to grasp that PR#4 refers to the practice room that I should’ve been to at least three times by now. I respond that I’ll see him there. Shutting my computer, I grab my purse and room keys from my bed and head toward the door.
“Oh, you’re already going to dinner?” Corinne asks, her dark eyebrows knitting together. Pausing her video game, she glances down at the phone beside her on the bed. “It’s early, but we can come with—”
“No,” I say quickly, the word a little too harsh even to my own ears. Shaking my head, I backtrack. “I mean, I’m not going to dinner yet. I’ve got to go meet my advisor but after that—say six-ish?”
“Definitely.” Her shoulders sag in relief and as she grabs the controller, she tells me, “Good luck with your advisor. I have Communication Theory with one of her old students, and I’ve heard nothing but absolute horror stories.”
I give her a cool smile, tell her thanks, and wave goodbye to Daniel. Racing back to the music building for the third time today, I go over what I’m going to say to Rhys. In the back of my head, I can hear Kendra’s cool voice of reason telling me that the truth is always nice.
Too bad the truth is often crippling.
When I arrive, I find the door open and Rhys is already sitting behind the piano, touching the keys carefully. At the sound of me rushing into the room, he lifts his chin, a wave of surprise passing over his face because he probably didn’t expect me to show up. He quickly replaces it with a cordial smile.
“Shut the door behind you?” he requests.
“Yeah, of course.” I close it with the heel of my foot and then press my back up against it, wringing my fingers together. “Look, let me start by saying—”
Giving me a view of the top of his dark hair, he keeps his gaze down on the piano keyboard as he interrupts me, explaining in his soft Southern accent, “My wording on that email last week was all wrong.” I finally recognize the song he’s playing as a version of “Yesterday,” stripped of any extra accompaniment, and I can automatically hear the lyrics in my head. “It wasn’t the best of days for me, and I took it out on you. I’m gonna be honest and tell you that I don’t regret calling you out, but I do regret the manner in which I did it.”
Well, hell. Can he be any more blunt? “I—”
“I know I’m not Professor Cameron, and I might not look like what you’d expect from a voice instructor, but I know what I’m doing. I’m fucking good at what I do. If you’ve learned anything about Cameron, you’ll know she doesn’t screw around when it comes to this department.”
“I know.”
Drawing in a harsh breath, he stands up, leaning against the backside of the piano and standing close to me. I blink, unable to form a response. “I’m not gonna beg you to come to your lessons, Evelyn. I don’t beg, and I’m sure as hell not gonna do it when it comes to something that only serves to benefit you, but I would think you’d want to improve.”
“I do.” I splay my palms out against the door behind me, pushing as hard as I can. “I’m sorry I missed our lessons.”
“Do you plan to start coming?”
“I—” I feel my face heat up under his intense scrutiny. I’ve wrestled with this in my head since figuring out who he is, but this is something I have to do. Not only if I want to end this year on a positive note, but also if I want to grow up, as Rhys had put it in his email. No matter how much it screws with me, I can’t spend my life maneuvering out of everything that makes me face my past and all my screw-ups.
I can get through this year.
And I can do it without ever telling Rhys about our shared history.
I have to.
“Yes,” I say in a small voice, “I’ll be here on Friday.”
“Next Tuesday,” he corrects me. When I lift my eyebrow, he continues, “I’m leaving town Friday for the long weekend, and Monday is a holiday.”
Damn. I’d almost forgotten about the long weekend, and neither of my parents has made a move to even ask me if I had plans to come home during it.
“And then,” he tells me coolly, “We’ll meet again on Thursday because Cameron asked me to add in an extra day of lessons with you.”
Crap. I had hoped to get ahold of him before she did. “Oh, wow ... she works fast.”
Confused, he narrows his eyes. “She asked me yesterday.”
I give myself a chance to process the fact that my advisor went to him well before talking to me about an extra day of lessons, and then I accept defeat and nod. “Rhys? Why did you tell her I’ve been coming to practice? I mean, what do you gain from it?”
Shaking his head, he laughs as he goes back behind the piano to grab his laptop bag. He strides back over to me wearing a sardonic grin. “This is my job. Nobody wants to admit to screwing up when they don’t even know why it’s happening. So that’s why I want this from you: If there’s something about me that has you doubting my abilities, or doubting your future here, get it the hell out right now.”
Tearing my gaze from his, I stare at a mismatched tile on the floor right at the corner of the piano. “There’s nothing,” I lie.
He cocks an eyebrow. “Of course there isn’t,” he drawls. “But in case there is, let me get this out there for you. If you don’t show on Tuesday, I won’t come back. Like I said, I’m not going to beg you to come to me.”
Inadvertently, he’s giving me a chance to get all my baggage out in the open, but I still hold on to the idea that I’ll be able to handle my personal issues without involving him. He has yet to figure out who I am thus far so there’s no reason in making him uncomfortable too, is there?
“What are you thinking?” he murmurs, twisting his head a little so he can get a good look into my eyes.
“Hmm?”
“I’ve been trying to figure out what your problem is, and it’s killing me not knowing.”
He’s spent his precious time trying to figure me out? The mere thought of him doing that sends a trill of electricity coursing through me. “And you have theories?” I whisper.
“Besides you doubting me? The only other one I could think of is—” When he cuts himself off, sliding the tip of his tongue over the corner of his full lips and then shooting me a cocky grin, I suddenly have to know the rest. There’s no way I’m leaving this room without him coming out with it. I gesture for him to continue and under his breath he mutters that I asked for it before saying, “I thought you might be afraid to be around me because you couldn’t resist ... my natural charms.”
His natural charms.
Dear lord. Did he really just say that? Giving him a tight smile, I shake my head. “Fortunately for you I’m very much immune to your natural charms, so I think we’re good for Tuesday.”
Looking unconvinced, he points out, “You asked me to tell you.”
“And now that you have, and I’ve told you that’s the least of your worries, we can get through this semester.”
He motions for me to move away from the door, and as he exits, his body skims mine, waking every nerve ending, every pulse point, in the process. From the way his gaze lowers to my face, I have a feeling the touch was intentional just to test me.
“Trust me, it makes things so much easier,” he says. “I’ll see you Tuesday at four. And, Evelyn?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t forget what I said. I’m not going to beg you to work with me. It has to be something you want for yourself or we’re not going to get anywhere.”
“Noted.” I nod. “I’ll be there.”
As I walk back to my dorm to meet my roommate, and probably Hollister too, for dinner, I do my best to ignore the fact that the right side of my body is still tingling from rubbing up against Rhys.
Chapter Seven
“You know, you’ve never mentioned where home is,” Nathan says from his perch on my computer chair late Friday morning as I pack a few pairs of shorts in a tiny duffle bag.
After Ensemble Choir—which is the only class either of us has on Fridays—we ate a late breakfast together along with my suitemate Lara, who’s also in choir, before she took off for her next class. I’d invited him back to my room to help me pack.
Nathan is officially the first guy I’ve personally invited inside my room here—another record for me compared to last year after my breakup with James—but there’s also not an ounce of attraction between us. While I have no intention of prancing around in my bra and panties in front of him, I also know he has no ulterior motives. I can always appreciate that in a guy, especially one with a longtime girlfriend.
“Can you hand me that?” I gesture to the straw hat sitting beside his bottle of green tea. He tosses it to me like a Frisbee where it lands on the top of my bag. “And I know I haven’t mentioned where home is.”
“I can’t even find you on Facebook. Or Instagram. Would it offend you if I ask you if you’re from one of those The Hills Have Eyes type of places?”
I grin and toss my toothbrush in the front pocket of the bag. “No, but only because I’ve never seen the movie.” Pulling each zipper closed, I push myself to my feet and stretch my arms and legs. “I live on the border.”
Nathan lifts both his reddish-blond eyebrows. “There are five borders.” This isn’t the first time he’s rattled off geographical info at the drop of a hat, and I shake my head incredulously.
“God, it’s like you’re a walking, talking map.”
“We’ve gone over this, my father teaches Geography—I have no choice. It was either conform or be cast out,” he teases, rolling the chair over to the wastebasket to throw away his now empty bottle.
“Alright, let’s lock this place up. If I don’t get out of here now, I’ll probably hit traffic and won’t get there until after dinner.” Hoisting my duffle bag on my shoulder, I start for the door with Nathan right behind me. As I lock my room from the outside, I swear I can see the wheels in his brain turning while he tries to calculate distance and times to various border locations.
Although he doesn’t have to, he insists on walking the mile to the off-campus freshman parking lot with me because he wants to check out the music store right across the street. When I hit the unlock button on my key fob, and the front lights flash on my car, Nathan releases a low whistle. Abandoning the subject of tests, he walks in a slow circle around my black Hyundai Genesis Coupe.
“You take the bus everywhere and you have this sitting out here?” he laughs.
“Richmond traffic scares me,” I admit, tossing my duffle bag in the tiny backseat and my purse in the front floorboard. “It’s much calmer in Bristol.”
Lifting his gaze from the rear spoiler at the mention of my hometown, Nathan grins. “Bristol, huh?”
“Uh huh, though I’d appreciate it if you’d keep that to yourself,” I say seriously, and when he nods, I relax my shoulders. Once I’m inside the car with my seatbelt secured and the ignition started, he comes around to the partially open window. Disheveled red hair falls over his eyes when he leans over. “See you on Monday, friend. And please don’t get into too much trouble this weekend.”
Shoving his hands in his pocket, he rocks back forward on the balls of his feet, laughing. “I’ve got too much to do to have time for trouble. If you need me, I’ll be making practice room three my bitch for that sight singing test next Wednesday.”
Ugh, I’d almost forgotten about that. Giving Nathan a grateful smile, I wave goodbye and pull out of the jam-packed parking area, watching in the rearview mirror as he jogs across the street and disappears through the double door of the music shop.
As soon as I stop at a gas station and fuel up, I plug in my iPod, singing along with everyone from Civil Twilight to Pink Floyd to Sia all the way home. Luckily, I miss the bulk of the traffic, and it’s a few minutes before five when I pull into my parents’ circular driveway.
There’s a white Infiniti SUV boasting a thirty-day tag parked in Mom’s usual spot, which is right in front of the triple garage. After walking around it a few times just like Nathan had done to my car several hours ago, I finally go inside the house.
I find my mom in the living room. She’s vacuuming, with her back turned to me.
Since she’s not expecting me, I quickly announce my presence, but I still startle her because she spins around to face me, her hazel eyes wide.
She shuts off the vacuum cleaner, nearly knocking it over in the process. “Jesus, Evie, you scared me!” Holding her hand over her chest to still her racing heartbeat, she eases down on the couch. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming home?”
“It was kind of last minute.” Shifting uncomfortably, I drop my bag behind me in the foyer. “Sorry.”
“Why on Earth are you saying sorry?” Mom laughs a little too hysterically, motioning for me to come and sit beside her. “This is your house, too. I just figured that since you didn’t come home last Labor Day that ...” Her voice trails off and she smooths her small hands down the front of her khaki Bermuda shorts. “I’m glad you’re here.”
I believe her, but it’s the edge and hesitation in her voice that gives me cause to worry. Drawing my eyebrows together, I walk all the way into the living room and take a seat on the opposite side of the couch. “Is everything okay?”
“It’s—” She struggles to find the right word, and I notice her fingers are taut as she taps them against her slim legs. “It’s fine. Everything is great, in fact. I’m guessing you saw the gift from your dad out front.”
My mother’s birthday isn’t until January and their anniversary was a couple months ago, so I can easily guess that the brand spanking new SUV must be some type of reconciliation gift. A very extravagant reconciliation gift. I guess Dad really is trying to move back in.
I try not to show any type of emotion—surprise or bitterness or anger—when I say, “It’s gorgeous.” Mom and I have enough issues, like the fact that she still has a hard time looking me in the eye, for me to go and offend her minutes after coming home.
The sound of “Crazy Kids”—the ringtone I’d assigned to Kendra just this past week after she called me crazy in a text message—starts to play, and I give my mother an apologetic look before excusing myself to the kitchen.
“I’m running late,” Kendra complains as soon as I say hello. “My brother didn’t get here to get me until an hour ago, so I’ll be there around—oh, I don’t know—seven thirty or so?”
I grab a Coke from the fridge, biting the inside of my cheek at the full shelf of Dad’s favorite beer. “Sounds good,” I tell Kendra. Even though we haven’t made any concrete plans for the night, the fact that she’d changed her mind late in the week to come to Bristol this weekend had been the driving force behind my decision to come home. “Just text me when you get here?”
After we hang up and I finish my drink, I go back to the living room to find my mom finishing up her housework. After Lily died, Dad had hired a housekeeper to come in three times a week, but my mother wasn’t having it because she hated the thought of someone else cleaning the house, even if she and my father did have the means. As she adjusts a turquoise and mustard yellow throw pillow on the couch, she lifts her head a little until her gaze meets my lips.
I sigh, but say nothing as I support my back against the doorway.
“Do you have any special plans this weekend?” Once again, there’s a note of hesitation in her voice.
“Kendra and I are probably going to catch a movie, but tomorrow I’m all yours. Maybe we can do a movie, or—”
Standing upright, she chews nervously on her bottom lip. “You didn’t tell your dad you were coming, did you?” she questions softly.
“No, why?”
A slow, deep flush creeps up her neck and face as she informs me, “We actually made weekend plans to head to Myrtle Beach tonight. Well, your dad made them and surprised me with the news two days ago. I’m supposed to be picking him up from the dealership at seven.”
Apparently my dad has been just full of surprises lately.
When I open my mouth to speak, she rushes forward and for the briefest moment, we lock stares. There’s a momentary flash of longing and regret in her eyes, but then it’s quickly replaced by genuine concern. “I promise it’s not going to be a problem to cancel. Or you can come with us. Just let me call Matthew and—”
“No!” I shout. She stops in her tracks on her way to the phone in the foyer. Once again, she’s staring directly into my eyes, unblinking as she waits for me to say something. As unforgivable as I think some of my dad’s actions have been, the fact that my mom looks so thrilled about taking a getaway with him is something I can’t overlook. “Seriously, there’s no need to do that. You go on to the beach, I promise I’m fine here.”
“Are you sure, I really don’t—”
I reach her in three long strides and pull her to me. At five-foot-four, she’s shorter than me by four inches, so her head lies awkwardly on my neck for a moment before I release her. “Mom. Go.”
When she leaves the house an hour and a half later, I casually ask her not to mention to my father that I’m here in town. She’s so eager to get on the road, she doesn’t even see through my request.
I don’t want to have a run in with him that leaves my mother upset.
With Kendra still not quite in town, and the house so empty I can’t quite stand being alone, I grab my purse intent on getting some food. Even though Friday night is always its busiest time, I can’t resist heading to my favorite restaurant—a throwback 1950’s style diner that’s a mile and a half from the high school I attended.
But the moment I walk inside and spot James on the other side of the restaurant with two of his friends, I consider walking out. Unfortunately, the bell at the top of the door has already announced my arrival, and he’s looking right at me. He dips his chin in recognition, so I push forward and take a seat in an empty booth as far away from him as I can. I pretend to study the menu that I already know by heart. When another body scoots into the booth across from me, I smell the familiar sent of the Fahrenheit cologne I bought him two years ago for Christmas. I press my lips together.
“Can I help you?”
“I haven’t heard a word from you in months and you wouldn’t answer your door all summer. How do you think you can help me?”
Scowling, I whip my gaze up. “You have ketchup on your chin.”
He swipes a napkin over the spot but offers me a crooked smile nonetheless. “You’re not still mad, are you?” Considering the last words we said to each other prior to tonight, this is an odd question for him to be asking me.
“Oh, I don’t know. Your fraternity called me out—very publicly, might I add—for being a hobag, and you went right along with them. So ... I guess I’m a little mad.”
“I swear you hold a scary grudge.”
Two years ago, he said nearly the same thing to me just before my mom called me downstairs to let me know what had happened to Lily. For more reasons than one, those words have so much more meaning after everything that’s happened, both with my family and between us.
“No grudge here. Just a little smarter.”
“You fucked two of my friends. I had to listen to them tell me how hot your goddamn body was and—” James takes a shuddering breath and then scrubs his hand over his face. “What you did was wrong, Evie.”
My gaze zeroes in on the slight bump on his nose, the result of an elbow to the face during a basketball game during our sophomore year. At the thought of my fist making contact with that bump, I smile sweetly.
“We were broken up,” I remind him through clenched teeth. “And you hooked up with more girls than that—way more. A lot of them while we were dating. You can lie all you want and tell me you never cheated, but I know better. I’ll take being called a hobag over actually being a cheating shitbag any day of the week.”
He doesn’t confirm or deny my allegations as he crosses his arms over his chest, wrinkling his gray t-shirt. For some reason, I can’t help but picture Rhys Delane, of all the people, in that gray shirt that hugged his body like a glove on the day we ran into each other two weeks ago.
James reaches out to touch my face, but I quickly recoil. “You changed.”
“Yep. That’s what you told me.”
“It was like you had a goal to see how much shit you could screw up after your sister died.”
“Unless you want your balls in your throat, be careful what you say.”
“Damn, Evie.” At my stony expression, he bends forward, gripping the edges of the table. “I’m not telling you this to hurt you but because I love—I loved you. I’m sorry things went the way they did with us. I overreacted, but you pushed me away at every turn.”
“I’m doing it again right now.”
“What?”
I get up from my seat, feeling several eyes turn in my direction. Not that I care. “I’m no longer hungry.”
“Evie,” James groans. He’s right behind me when I stalk out into the parking lot, and before I can open the door of my car, he pulls me around, dragging me to him. I shove my palms against his chest, pushing him away, watching the hurt look take over his face. “I’m trying to say sorry to you and you’re being difficult. You need to learn to let go.”
“Apology accepted, but trust me, the grudge I have for you is nowhere near as big as you try to make yourself believe. No hard feelings—just not very pleasant ones at the moment.”
“Wait ... what are you doing tonight?” There’s a sudden suggestive lilt to his voice, and I swallow back the bile in my throat. Jabbing my tongue in my cheek, I shake my head, saying nothing, and my ex gives me a pleading look. “Oh, come on. It’s not like we haven’t—”
Leaning in close to him, I point my finger at the front of the diner. I can see James’ idiot friends looking out the window at us, leering. “They’re waiting on you. So go on inside and feed them a lie about how I couldn’t keep my hands off you.” The last word is nearly shouted as I slam into my seat and start the Hyundai. I can practically smell my tires burning as I speed out of the parking lot.
What the hell was I thinking even talking to James?
A year ago when we first headed off to school together, things had been shaky between us at best. Even though a year had passed, I was still reeling from my sister’s death, and I thought getting away was what I needed. In spite of Kendra’s influence, I’d turned into a full-on party girl. At some point, I stopped caring whether or not James was actually around because there was something about going out Wednesday through Sunday that numbed away all my guilt. I knew he was messing around on me—I would have been an idiot not to know that—but I numbed the feelings associated with that away too.
He did us both a favor by ending the relationship, and up until tonight, I was pretty sure I’d cemented my “do not call again” status by sleeping with two senior members of his fraternity. He sure as hell earned himself a spot on my list thanks to his reaction.
My head pounding, I drive past the road leading to my house and get on the interstate, taking the first exit to go see my sister. I’m humiliated to admit I’ve only been to her grave once since she passed away, but fifteen minutes later, as the sun starts to disappear from the sky, I find myself sitting in front of her headstone. There are fresh flowers here, and guilt pierces my chest at the thought of my mom coming out here alone.
