Текст книги "Facade"
Автор книги: Nyrae Dawn
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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 14 страниц)
I pick up The Count, wishing I could focus on the words. Wishing I were Edmond or anyone but me. I reach for my weed but then shove it back into the drawer. Why can’t I lose myself in my own head like I used to? Get lost in my own world to block out the shit at home instead of sucking that crap into my lungs like I do now?
I wonder who that guy was with Angel at the cemetery. If he’s good to her because I’m not there to protect her the same way I didn’t protect Ash. The way Angel always protected me.
Suddenly the music is too loud. People stumbling into my door feels like they’re doing it on my head instead. If I don’t get out of this house right now, I’m going to lose it.
I shove the window open and grab my keys. It’s freezing balls outside, but I don’t care. It’s good to feel something besides the memories. It only takes me a few seconds to walk around the side of my house and get to my car. No one will miss me here. They’ll party till they pass out and tomorrow I’ll talk shit about how fun it was. Right now, I need to be free.
I drive around for hours until the car’s going on fumes and I know I’ll run out of gas at any second. I’ve circled Brenton about ten times and for the millionth wonder why I still live in this state. Maybe it would be easier if I left. Instead I drive by the college that Cheyenne goes to and wonder what it would have been like to go there. College was something I always wanted, planned for, but after Ash, I figured if he didn’t get to have what he wanted, I shouldn’t either. I remember how Angel used to tell me how lucky I was because I was so fucking smart. It pissed her off when I left high school, but we needed money. It wasn’t that long since she’d taken me from Dad and let me live with her. Plus, Ash was coming soon and I needed to help her prepare.
By this point, it’s gotta be almost 3:00 a.m. My eyes are burning as much as my insides. When I see a little all-night diner, I pull in. Shove my copy of The Count and my little spiral notebook in my hoodie pockets before going inside.
I sit in the ugly, aqua-green booth and wonder who in the hell would pick something like this.
Pulling the book out, I toss it onto the table. Grab my notebook and the pen I keep in my pocket, but I’m not sure I can make myself do anything right now. Can’t write. Can’t read. I need some fucking coffee and a time machine, so I put my elbows on the table and bury my head in my hands.
I try to focus on the big, brown eyes in my mind and the huge smile that was definitely a Westfall trait.
“Can I help you?” someone says from beside the table.
I wish like hell I didn’t have to pry my head out of my hands, but I do. I look over and see the same brown hair and beautiful gray eyes from earlier.
Chapter Four
~Delaney~
Just my luck that I have to run into the flirty guy from this afternoon. He is super sexy with his dark hair and intense eyes, though. He has brown stubble on his face, but I can’t help but look at his eyes again. They look dimmer than they did earlier. No laughing in them. I almost feel like they could transfer me away. Like you can drift forever in those midnight pools because there’s so much space between what he wants to show and what’s really buried deep inside.
I wonder what my eyes look like to him.
I have no excuse to wonder that. I didn’t come all the way to Brenton to hook up with some random guy.
I can practically see the façade slip into place as he gives me a half-smile.
“If it isn’t the box girl. Your boyfriend’s not going to show up again, is he?”
I shake my head. Almost don’t tell him the truth, but I do. “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s my brother.”
The smile grows slightly. “Why didn’t you say that earlier?”
“Because I didn’t feel like being hit on.” I try not to bite my lip. It feels good to have a guy try and pick me up. Any girl who doesn’t admit that is lying. Whether you want him or not, it’s a boost to the ego. I didn’t date much when I was younger. I was focused on school and was just young. Too busy riding my bike and trying to follow my big brother around. Then Dad got locked up and Mom lost it and boys never had a chance to be important.
“All girls like being hit on,” he says.
“Are you going to order anything or not?”
“In a rush to get back to all those other customers?” He smiles.
Yeah, I didn’t really think about that. I look around and remember there’s only one other person in the place. My eyes wander over the table and I notice the book sitting there. The Count of Monte Cristo. I don’t know why, but it surprises me. He doesn’t look like the read-for-fun type. “Your book?” I ask, even though I know it’s his.
It’s almost like he forgot it was there. He puts a hand on it and slides it closer to him, as though he’s trying to protect it. “I’ll take a coffee.” There’s a slight edge to his voice that wasn’t there before. I’m not sure if its anger, annoyance, or if the tiredness in his features is now spreading to his vocal cords.
“Anything to eat?” Then I realize I have the menu in my hand and haven’t given it to him. I never claimed to be the best waitress. I’m lucky I got the job so quickly when I told Maddox I was going to Brenton whether he came or not. I didn’t know what else to do.
“Mind if I look at that?” He nods his head toward the menu and I give it to him.
“I’ll be right back with your coffee.” Without a word, I turn and walk away. I fill a coffee cup for him, a little annoyed at myself that I’m all fluttery over this guy I don’t know. I came here to make things right. Not to fall for someone who has player written all over him.
I set the coffee cup down in front of Mystery Guy. He looks at my chest and I’m about to cover it and tell him to look away before I blind him, but when he says, “Thanks, Delaney,” I realize he was looking at my nametag and not my breasts.
“You’re welcome.”
“Can I get some pancakes?”
“Um… sure. I’ll put the order in.” I’m about to walk to the kitchen when he speaks again. “Don’t you want to know my name?”
“No.” I came here looking for one guy and one guy only. I wasn’t here to flirt.
“I’ll tell you anyway. I’m Adrian. Adrian Westfall.”
My knees go weak and I have to fight not to fall. Blurry dots swim behind my eyes. Focus, focus, focus. When I open my mouth, I’m not sure what’s going to come out. “Nice to meet you,” is what I land on.
My legs shake as I walk away, but it has nothing on the tremble in my chest. I’m scared he’s going to see through me. Take one look and know who I am. Know that I’m the daughter of the guy who killed his nephew. And that I came here for him. Hoping that with his forgiveness, my family can find some peace. I’m not ready for him to know that yet. I’ve never been the best liar. What made me think I could do this?
I risk a glance at Adrian as he sits at the table. He doesn’t look at me and he’s immediately lost in thought. It’s so strange seeing the difference in him. Like the second I walked away, he transformed from the guy who was talking to me to the guy he really is. He’s not smiling. His shoulders are slumped. I think about his eyes when I first saw them. How they looked like endless space. Smoke and mirrors.
And I can’t help but wonder if that look is there because of what my father did to his family.
I don’t know a lot of details but I know his sister was at work. Know the toddler was in the yard and he was with him. I know my father hit the little boy with his car. And Adrian spent a little time in jail for an assault on my dad. I was only fourteen and it wasn’t like Mom gave me a lot of details.
“Delaney? You going to put that order in or what?” the cook, Donna, says through the order window.
“Yeah. Sorry. He wants pancakes.” My voice suddenly sounds like a high tenor, only not as beautiful. Or as steady.
I grab a washcloth and pretend to actually care if the countertop is clean as I try to watch him and pry my eyes away at the same time. He’s holding his book, his long fingers flipping through the pages. I wonder about him and that book. The cover was worn like only a loved book can get, so either he’s read it over and over, or it isn’t his. A library copy. Maybe he’s in school and he has to read it.
A little pang hits my chest. I always figured I would go to college. It was the route I was supposed to take, only things got rough and I haven’t made it there yet.
The bell dings and my heart jumps. “Order up,” Donna says.
In. Out. In. Out. I take a couple deep breaths as my shaky hand grabs the plate. I can do this. I have to do this.
Taking slow steps, I make it to Adrian’s table. “Here—” I have to clear my throat for my voice to work. “Here’s your food. Do you need anything else?” I set the plate in front of him.
Adrian closes his book and raises his eyebrows. “Are you offering?”
I want to say something to him, to tell him that’s disgusting, but when your dad kills a member of someone else’s family, it’s a little hard to be mean to them.
“Water?” I ask.
“Space,” he replies, and I wonder if that might be the most honest thing he’s said to me. There’s no malice in his voice. No flirtation either, only truth.
“Sure… anything. Just get my attention if you need me.” It’s not the best thing to say. I know I should be going to his table to make sure everything is okay, but I won’t. Not unless he calls me over. It’s the least I can do, really.
For the next two hours I go about my business. Pretend it matters that I’m sweeping the floor, filling the sugar containers. Adrian eats, pushes his plate away, and then alternates between The Count and scribbling in his notebook. I wonder what he’s writing but know I don’t have a right.
I came here for him, but I don’t have a plan. For some reason, I don’t think it would work to sit down and tell him I’m sorry. That I hate what my father did and I hate what Adrian’s family lost and that I would do anything, anything to make it go away.
I did it before with his sister, but that was different. One look at me and she’d known. She’d known who I was and we sat down and cried as I told her I was sorry.
She said she didn’t hate me, that it wasn’t my fault. I told her she lost more than I ever did, so she asked what I lost too. We talked about my mom and the gambling debts, which led to depression and suicide attempts.
And that’s when she told me about her brother. That she hadn’t just lost Ashton, this beautiful little boy, but two members of her family. Adrian too. He’d never been able to handle things well, and he’d disappeared right after Ashton died.
The private investigator found him only a couple hours away in Brenton, she’d said offhandedly. The pain in her eyes when she told me she couldn’t go to him ripped me apart. But she knew him and said you couldn’t push Adrian; otherwise he’d run again. At least this way she knew he was safe.
And here I am, trying to push him. Trying to dig up his past just so I can try and give myself a better future. I’ve never felt so selfish in my life. I want to vomit. Tears sting my eyes and I remember how Mom used to tell me a good cry could be cathartic. Now she just takes pills or puts a razor to her wrists.
Suddenly, I don’t know if I can do this. Don’t know if I can do any of it. What was I thinking, coming here? Trying to dredge up his past the way I want to. It’s not okay. Not fair. Maddox was right.
I think about how small Mom looked in that hospital bed. Maybe we deserve it. Maddox seems to think he does. Maybe it’s all our faults for trusting in Dad or sticking by his side before we knew how bad things were. For not looking into his lies and treasuring the time he was home.
Maybe we’re supposed to continue living with it.
Adrian stands but doesn’t look at me. I never gave him his ticket, but right now, I don’t care. I’ll cover it and pretend he paid. Whatever I have to do to make this right.
He stuffs his book in the pocket of his black hoodie. The other pocket belongs to his spiral notebook. Without a glance in my direction, he walks out. I wait until the headlights swing across the wall before I walk to his table.
There’s a twenty-dollar bill and a single piece of paper. The paper trembles, an extension of my hand.
Space,
I asked.
She agreed.
It wasn’t what caught my attention.
Her eyes.
Me too,
They seemed to say,
I need space too
Thank you
I fall into his seat. Clutch the paper to my chest. And cry.
* * *
I get off work at 6:00 a.m. and head to the little apartment my brother and I are sharing. I guess that’s the good thing about not having many ties anymore. We can pack up and move at any second. Maddox hates that part because it made it easier for me to come here. He’ll be glad when he finds out I don’t think I should go through with it.
Maddox is passed out on the couch when I get home. We could only afford a one-bedroom place and it’s just like him to give the room to me. I guess it’s just like me to take it too.
After the fastest shower in history, I throw on my sweats and a sweatshirt. I climb into bed, my body tired. Even my mind is, but it’s not shutting off enough to get any downtime.
I read Adrian’s poem what feels like five million times. It’s so strange how you get it in your head who someone is before you meet them. Or even after you meet them, you get that one look and know how they are. It’s bullshit ninety-nine percent of the time, but that doesn’t stop people from doing it.
The words on this paper aren’t who I saw when I thought of the boy who’s tied into my life so much, yet doesn’t know it. Questions rain down on me in a powerful thunderstorm: Does he write often? Does it help him deal? Is this something he shares with everyone?
Curiosity swims inside me, filling up every nook and cranny it can find. I shouldn’t be curious about him. It almost feels morbid in a way, but I can’t help but wish that maybe knowing each other would be a step toward healing us all.
“Stupid.”
I look over at the clock. It’s one of the only things unpacked in my room. Bringing in money is much more important than making the place homey.
It’s 10:00 a.m. and I haven’t slept a wink yet. I roll out of bed. My brother’s out on the tiny patio smoking a cigarette. It takes two tries to get the glass door to slide open right. “Hey,” I say, tucking my hands into the sleeves of my sweatshirt and leaning against the wall.
“You’re up early.” I can tell by the scratchiness in Maddox’s voice that he just woke up too.
“Couldn’t sleep… Have you called to check on Mom today?” I know the answer to that question before I asked it.
“Did she worry about us when things got bad?”
“Mad—”
“Laney.”
“Stop it.”
“You stop it.”
I swat him on the back of the head. “I’m not twelve. It’s not going to help to mimic me.”
He takes a drag from his cigarette and lets the smoke out slowly. “Think we’ll be here long enough for you to register for a class or something? You should.”
“So should you. I don’t have the money or the time right now.”
“I’d make it happen.”
I sigh, hating the fact that my brother feels the weight of our family on his shoulders. That he would do anything for me but nothing for himself. That he blames himself so much for everything falling apart that it’s the real reason he struggles with Mom. It hurts too much to see her. And… well, I think it’s the way she treats me, too, that makes me feel like crap. He shouldn’t lose his only parent because she can’t seem to stand the sight of me. “I know you would… I met Adrian last night.”
At that he whips around to face me. “That fast? What happened?” His voice is a mixture of concern and annoyance.
I shrug. “He was the guy who tried to… help me with the boxes yesterday. I didn’t know it, though. Then he happened to show up at the diner last night and I figured out who he was.”
“Fuck,” Maddox groans.
I’m pretty sure there’s a small tint of curiosity in his gray eyes. He’ll never ask, though. Not Maddox.
“He of course doesn’t know who I am.” I pause for a second, trying to build a coherent thought from all the bits and pieces and fragments in my mind. “He’s broken, Maddy. I don’t know how I know it, but I do.” I kneel next to him. Drop my head on his shoulder. I hear the deep breath he inhales and exhales, knowing I’m hurting and hating it.
“Do you think it’s our fault, somehow? I know that sounds stupid, but did we do something? Wrong someone? Should we have known what Dad was doing earlier? Are we being punished because we were blind?”
Another curse. Maddox doesn’t move, doesn’t wrap an arm around me. “None of it’s your fault, Laney. You were just a kid.”
“You too,” I point out, but he chooses to ignore that.
After a pause, he asks, “Did meeting him make you realize this is a shitty idea? That it’s not going to change anything?”
“I don’t know… maybe… probably… I don’t know.”
He chuckles. “Typical woman. Doesn’t know what she wants.”
That makes me hit him again before I stand up. “Who knows? I don’t know what I want, remember? I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want to hurt anyone, but… we’re all tied in this together. Maybe there’s a way we can help each other? I keep thinking of his sister. How much she misses him. What if there’s a way we can help? What if we can bring them back together?” The truth is, I couldn’t imagine being in this without Maddox. Adrian and Angel need each other like we do.
“You can help, Laney. Not me. My only concern is my family.” His cigarette has almost burned to the end now, but he takes a drag anyway before stubbing it out.
I want to tell him Mom’s family also, not just me, but I don’t. I’m not in the mood to fight with him today. “I’m not sure what to do, but I’m not ready to leave.” And then I add, “I just want everything to be okay.”
Maddox stands and shakes his head at me. “You’re too much of an optimistic, little sister. We’ve gone too far for everything to be okay.” He walks into the apartment, leaving me to stand there alone.
Chapter Five
~Adrian~
I have no idea what the hell I was thinking when I left my poem at the table. It feels like a slipup. No, more like I took a razor to my skin, like I cut myself open and left a small piece of myself behind for her. I don’t do shit like that, but seeing Angel at Ashton’s grave not long before that, plus the girl at the party with his nickname—maybe I hadn’t needed to cut myself open at all. Maybe they’d already done it for me and I was open and raw when I went in.
Maybe I had no choice but to leave that piece of me there.
Or it might be the ghosts in her eyes. The dark shadows that lurk there and make me wonder what’s chasing her when the lights go out.
Hell, I might just need to let laid. No matter how I look at it, she’s gorgeous and I want her.
Whatever the reason is, I don’t like it. Don’t like giving people a glimpse inside me to see what lives there.
Even when it was Angel who found some of my shit and read it, I felt under the microscope. Like a rat that people study. When I was young, I was the quiet kid who didn’t talk but left his heart on paper. Now she’ll see me as the flirtatious, fucked-up guy with a hidden depth that’s not really there. It’s nothing but an optical illusion.
Smoke curls around my living room like a dense fog. I haven’t done anything but sit on the couch since I kicked everyone out of my place today.
The blinds and windows are all closed, so it’s almost like it’s nighttime, even though the sun has been up for hours.
My head hurts, but I haven’t taken anything. Don’t like all that unnatural shit in my body, which some people think is ironic since I medicate in a completely different way every day.
Pushing to my feet, I see the paper on the table this morning. My hand itches to grab it like I’m still back in that sea-colored diner and still have a chance to keep that one smoke screen in place. I think of her curves and her eyes and that little black mark painted on her face.
I have to fix this. Pull that mask on tight to make up for the glimpse I left behind. It’s not like it won’t be fun. Even through all the fucked-up feelings that swam through my head when I saw her this morning, I still felt the burn of her beneath my skin. The part of me who sees a challenge and wants to overcome it. I want to turn her into a girl at a party who wants to pass the time with me as much as I want to pass it with her. A flicker of a moment when we’re nothing but hands, and lips, and tongues, together and nothing else matters, before we go our separate ways.
I need a distraction and the girl with ghosts in her eyes is as good as anything. And while I play the game, maybe, just maybe I’ll be able to forget the rest of it.
When I can’t rub the sandpaper out of my eyes, I go to my room, unlock my closet, and look at the picture of the little boy with the big, brown eyes. “I’m sorry, Ash,” I tell him, like I do every day. I might not be able to say it to Angel and I know I’ll never repent enough, but I need to do this.
Closing the door, I kick off my shoes and fall into bed. My hand latches on to the tiny shirt under my pillow. I hold it tight and close my eyes.
Tonight, I’ll again lock the demons away that have showed their faces too much since the morning at the cemetery.
* * *
Oscar, one of the guys I hang out with, is always down for a good time. He’s different than Colt. Colt might not have known it, but he hated the way we lived our lives. There was this sort of sadness inside him that wanted more for himself. He didn’t always act like it, but he knew right from wrong. Knew what he wanted for himself but had to pull his head out and go for it.
I don’t have that problem with Oscar. I tell him I want a girl, he goes with me to find one, no questions asked. I tell him I’m having a party, he makes sure people are there. Hell, half the time, he doesn’t even wait for my invitation and I usually don’t care either.
So, when I need someone to chill with tonight, someone I know will go along with whatever I want, he’s the guy I go to.
“What’s up, man?” he asks when he shows up at my place.
First thing he does is take the bong from my table and fill his lungs with smoke. I don’t tell him what’s up and he doesn’t ask again. He takes a few shots and I laugh and talk shit and it’s like every other night of the week except I keep running over poetry lines in my head. Thank you. I shouldn’t have ended it with thank you since she wanted the same thing as me.
But then, who the hell am I to pretend to know what she wants?
I kick Oscar’s ass on the PlayStation and the whole time he doesn’t shut up.
“Where’s Colt been lately?”
“Happy.”
“Did you see that chick in the red dress last night?”
“Yeah.” What I don’t say is I didn’t give a shit.
“You disappear with some girl?”
“You know it.” My memories, is more like it.
I wait until about eleven before telling Oscar I’m hungry and that we should go out. He’s too blazed out of his mind to drive. Since I didn’t drink, it’s a no-brainer that I’ll be the one behind the wheel.
I don’t even know if she’ll be there or not, but the closer to the diner we get, the more the competitor in me amps up. With the ghosts in her eyes, she got me to show a part of myself that no one else sees. The next score will go to me.
The second I walk inside, my eyes find her. Her dark hair is pulled back and she’s speed walking through the place. There are more people in here than there were last night, so I know it’s going to be a little harder to do what I want to do.
The hostess gives me a shy smile when I walk in. “What’s up?” I wink at her, playing the game that’s engraved in my memory.
“Um… hi. Just two?” Another smile.
“Depends. What time do you get off?” I ask her. “My buddy here wants to know.” I slap Oscar on the shoulder and know he’s not going to argue. He’ll get her a whole lot easier if I help him than he would on his own.
“An hour.” The blonde looks at Oscar, me, then back at Oscar again.
Which means that’s probably when the diner slows down, leaving only Delaney and the cook. It’s a Thursday night and I know they’re busier and staff heavier on the weekends.
“We’ll be here,” I tell her.
“Okay.” She leads us to our seat.
“Fuck yeah,” Oscar whispers in my ear, and I fight the part of me that wants to tell him it’s ridiculous. That all of it’s fake and not important and that he’ll forget her name in a week, but since I’m an illusion, too, I have no room to talk to him.
“Have a good meal,” she says before walking away.
I turn and catch her looking at Delaney, fanning herself and then nodding toward us. Delaney’s eyes follow hers. When she sees me, her feet plant to the floor, grow roots like an old tree, growing for all of eternity.
I nod. Smile. Game on, I want my look to tell her.
We sit in the booth and Oscar mumbles about the blonde and it being his lucky night, but I keep my eyes on Delaney. Watch her as she fills glasses of water. See her shiver and wonder if she knows my eyes are on her. Then as she comes toward me, there’s this confused look on her face. Maybe it’s not her who’s confused, but me. All I know is that I can’t read her, but she keeps coming and I know whatever it is, she’s going to play through it.
Good for her.
“Coffee?” Her voice cracks slightly. It’s still that sweet, girl-next-door tenor that tells the story that she’s always been good. That she’s fresh and innocent. If it weren’t for the ghosts in her eyes, I might believe it.
“Hot chocolate,” I reply.
The corners of her mouth tilt down slightly and her face tenses. She knows I’m trying to keep her on her toes. This might not be as easy as I thought.
“Whip cream?” she tosses back.
“Obviously.”
She turns to Oscar and he blurts out, “You are really fucking beautiful. Like unreal beautiful.” His tongue is practically hanging out of his mouth and I bite back a groan. Idiot.
“Simmer down, Romeo,” I tell him, and then look at Delaney. “You’ll have to excuse my friend. He loses his head in front of beautiful girls.”
This is the part where I wait for her to smile at me like the hostess did. Maybe watch as her cheeks turn pink or she shyly looks toward the ground. When none of that happens, I wait for the anger. For her to give me hell for being a sexist pig, but she doesn’t do either of those things.
She laughs.
It takes her a few seconds to settle down. Annoyance slowly rumbles through me while I wait to see what she’s going to say next.
“Really? Did you guys plan that before you came in?”
I shrug. “Maybe we did, maybe we didn’t. Doesn’t hurt for you to know the score up front, though. I came back here for you.”
She gasps and I’m not even sure if she realizes she did it. She pulls that bottom lip into her mouth and I know she didn’t plan on my words.
I don’t turn away, waiting to see how she’s going to reply next, and when I see her face pale slightly, I wonder if I screwed up. If I overstepped some invisible walls this girl has built for some reason.
Surprising me, she recovers quickly. “I’m sorry you wasted a trip.” She points to the menus in front of us. “While you look that over, I’ll go grab your drinks.”
“You know her?” Oscar’s playing with the sugar container.
“Maybe.”
“I hate it when you answer with that cryptic shit.” And then he laughs. “Though I guess I’d want to keep her to myself too.”
I don’t pretend to laugh. I’m running over our conversation in my head and trying to figure out how I’m going to swing it to my favor, when she comes back. I take the hot chocolate and order the pancakes again. Oscar gets a burger and soon we’re eating and some of the customers are starting to thin out.
Questions I have no business wondering climb the wall surrounding me before plunging over the other side, echoing as they go: Did, did, did, did, she, she, she, she, read, read, read, read, it, it, it, it? Before they smash to the concrete below.
The hostess gets off work, and Oscar tells her to sit with us. Her name’s Jamie and he tosses game at her that she gobbles up.
The whole time I’m watching Delaney, trying to ignore my question as it goes for the wall again. “I’ll be right back,” I tell them. She’s at the counter by herself. Only two other customers are in the place and the cook’s safely in the kitchen.
“You owe me a night out,” I tell her as I lean against the counter.
“How do you figure that?” She doesn’t look at me when she talks.
Because I want you out of my system. “You were going to say yes to the party. I could see it, but your brother came chomping at my ankles.”
At that she whips around. “How is it my fault you got scared away? And you’re not going to get me to go anywhere by insulting my brother.”
I shake my head. “Not scared. I was showing respect. That should earn me some points, right? As should honesty. I told you up front I came back for you. Come on. You’re obviously new to town. Let me show you a good time.”
Her shoulders slump, like my words sucked the air out of her. “Believe me, it’s not a good idea.”
I step closer, lean over the counter so my mouth is next to her ear. “It’s a very good idea. What time do you get off? I’ll come back for you.” I’m always up front with a girl. She’ll know exactly what this is about.
I feel the blast of ice shooting from her. See it in the set of her shoulders and the anger in her jaw. She’s fighting for composure before she talks—working through what she wants to say or maybe trying to fight the words back, swinging at them with a bat and hoping to hit a home run so they can’t get to her again.
“I’m not sure why I’m surprised that you’re like every other guy in the world. I thought…” She shakes her head. “I don’t know why I thought you might be different. If you’ll excuse me, I need to get to work.”
Shame takes root in my bones, breaking some as it travels through my body. I don’t know what I’m ashamed about either. Why it matters what this girl thinks. If it’s her that’s making me feel this way or because I know if Ash can look down on me, he wouldn’t think I have the power to hold the world up anymore. If anything, I’m crushing it. I have been for the past four years.
My feet carry me back to the table. The whole time I’m telling myself it doesn’t matter. None of it does. It’s not like I’ve never pissed off a girl before. It’s not like I haven’t pissed off a lot of people or they haven’t done the same to me.
