Текст книги "Triangle: The Complete Series"

Автор книги: Susann Julieva

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things, but no puppy kicking.” His smile gets a little bigger for a second. “It’s a simile. I thought you’d

like it.” He goes serious again, though. “And okay. He hates your guts. Mind telling me why? ‘Cause he

sure as hell didn’t use to.”

I frown again. “Why do you want to know?” Like, is he really interested in this? Why would anyone

be?

He leans back in his chair, cradling his coffee as he looks at me. “Because I may not remember all of

last semester, but I do remember parts. I remember how much I hated you because of how he felt about

you. And now things are like that.” He jerks his head toward the table where Rizzo is still sitting. “So I

guess I’m just curious how you go from one to the other so fast.”

“Oh, that’s easy,” I reply a little too bitterly, too darkly. “You just do the right thing.” I know to Nick

that must sound more than a little cryptic, but I’m not sure I want to spill the whole story. It’s too

painful to think of still. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I did something he can’t forgive me. I wouldn’t

forgive me either if I were him. End of story.”

He gives me a look that clearly conveys how much he doesn’t believe me. “Right. End of story.

When you’re both still obviously messed up about it. You really think that’s the end?” He shakes his

head as he takes another drink of his coffee, making a quiet sound of disagreement into it.

I almost laugh, surprised. “What’s it to you? And I’m sure he isn’t… messed up about it.” I can’t

help but glancing over at Rizzo’s table after all, very briefly. “Is he?”

He raises his eyebrows at me, nearly choking on a mouthful of coffee. “Not messed up about it?

Hell, I thought the editor of the newspaper was supposed to be smart. I knew the second he tossed me

out that something was wrong, and I was on more shit than I can even list.” He looks over at Rizzo’s

table for a second too before turning back to me. “He ran out of that theater earlier like there was

anywhere in the world he’d rather be than there. And trust me, it’s not because he was afraid of talking

to Jeff.”

I swallow. Is he serious? Is Rizzo actually still unable to cope with this situation? Can’t he seem to

move on, as hard as he’s trying? Just like me? But he’s been acting so normal, doing his Rizzo thing.

From afar, he seemed exactly like he was before our paths ever crossed. I was sure that for him, this was

over. The possibility that it’s not makes my heart beat just a little faster. No, this is crazy.

“I guess not, but the fact remains that he hates my guts. And unless you’ve got any smart theories of

how that could ever change, it doesn’t make a difference.” I shrug. I don’t know Nick well enough to

trust him, even though I have a feeling that I could if I wanted to. But I’ve already said too much

anyway.

“Well I don’t know. When I screwed up, he was the one that showed up to talk to me. If he’s not

doing that for you, maybe you need to try.” He pauses, raising an eyebrow at me. “Have you even tried

that? I mean, if you want to try to work shit out. Hell, for all I know, you’re fine with him hating you.”

He gives me a look that says that he doesn’t believe that for a second.

Why do I feel like I’m getting scolded by Mom? Geez, enough with the guilt trip! Up until this

moment, I had no clue that the possibility even existed that Rizzo might still somewhere, deep down,

have feelings for me. Even if they consist of pure hatred. But what if Nick’s right, and they don’t? What

if Rizzo… No, I can’t even think that. It messes with me far too much.

“I’m not fine with him hating me. But that’s my problem, not yours.” Shit, that sounded too much

like a snarl, possibly. I try to soften it with a crooked smile. “Not that I don’t appreciate the insight.”

“Translation: Fuck off, Nick, I don’t want to talk about it.” He smiles, more to himself than at me.

“Fair enough I guess. And hell, maybe I’m wrong. It’s happened enough in the past.” He shrugs,

returning his attention to his coffee.

“Ack, no. I didn’t mean it like that,” I’m quick to assure him. “And even if you are wrong. I guess

you have a point. I should find out one of these days.” If I ever work up the courage to. I can already see

the door of Rizzo’s dorm room closing right in my face. That should be fun.

I lean forward a little. High time to change the subject. “Off the record – tell me more about the play?

What’s your favorite scene in it?”

He looks up from his coffee, and as his thoughts return to the stage, the blue eyes light up. Eureka.

* * *

I get back to my room two hours later, and I’m still somewhat surprised. Things like this don’t happen

to me. I don’t spend hours talking to perfect strangers about my life. I don’t make a connection like that

easily. To be honest, I don’t think I ever have. But once we’d gotten the initial awkwardness out of the

way, Nick and I got along surprisingly well. Rizzo’s little lap dog, as I used to call him in my head, isn’t

anything like I’d expected. Which makes sense, since I didn’t even recognize him at first. He’s

interesting to talk to, and I can’t say that about a lot of people.

The whole thing is so weird I even mention it to Mom when I make my usual call to check on her

that night. But it’s so typically me in a way, meeting someone who could be a potential new buddy I

could really like and open up to, mere months before I have to leave for Berlin. My first semester at the

university there starts in October, but I’d like to make the move to Germany and settle in a while before

that. And definitely brush up on my German long before then.

Mom used to talk to me in German when I was very little. She wanted to make sure learning my

dad’s first language would come easy to me later on if I wanted to. She didn’t do that anymore after

Simon had come into our lives. I think he must have asked her to stop. He certainly didn’t like her and

me having secret little conversations he couldn’t understand. But I’ve always associated Germany with

my father, which gives me strangely warm feelings for this foreign place. There’s no logic to it, just a

gut feeling, but I’ve been wanting to visit the country for as long as I can remember. The mere thought

of getting to live there is exciting. A bit scary, too, but mostly exciting. The more time passes, the more

real the scholarship is becoming. And the more I really want to go. And let’s face it, apart from Mom,

there’s really not an awful lot keeping me this side of the Atlantic anymore.

* * *

I introduce Nick to Casey two weeks later. We’ve met up a couple of times in the meantime. Just to

have coffee and talk. About anything, really. The play, stuff to do with the paper, stuff that goes on at

college that we’re both not happy about. We never seem to run out of conversation topics. He told me

about rehab, and what it’s like to be back at school for him now. It’s a gesture of trust that I appreciate.

Not that I can give any useful advice. But I think maybe it helps him somehow that I’m there, not

judging, just listening. The whole Nick and Casey thing though… let’s just say they won’t become best

friends anytime soon. Like, some time within this century-soon. Casey laughs at me afterwards, on the

way to our dorms.

“Well, that was a little… weird.”

“Not my best idea ever to bring the two of you together, huh?” I say unhappily.

“No, I’m glad you introduced us. I always want to meet your friends.” Friends. Are Nick and I

friends? I’m surprised by how much I like the idea. Casey continues: “I don’t always have to love them,

but I still want to meet them.”

“Never fear, there won’t be lots more to come anytime soon.”

“Oh, you never know.” He smiles at me. “With your looks and charms…”

“Ha ha.”

“What? I’m serious. You got your own kind of charm. Not everyone gets that, sadly. But those who

don’t, don’t deserve you anyway.”

“Stop it, you’re making me blush,” I snarl, and he laughs out loud.

“Oh, James.” His eyes are shining warmly when he looks at me. “I just want for you to be happy.

You know that, don’t you?”

I nod. “I do. Ditto.”

Casey looks at the small buds on a tree we’re walking past. “Spring is coming. Can you feel it in the

air?”

“You mean the godawful cold that’s making my nose freeze off?”

He rolls his eyes, smiling. “Bless your romantic little heart. Seriously, though, I can’t wait for

everything to be green again.”

I nod, getting lost in my thoughts. Every day is taking me closer to the day I’ll have to leave here.

Woodhaven, my refuge. Is Berlin going to be what I expect? Am I going to love it there? What if I hate

it? But something tells me I won’t hate it, like that’s not even a possibility. Like I already know this city

somehow. Because it’s such a strange place, with so much dark history, and so much amazing spirit, and

just a little screwed up, just like me.

“You’re going to leave in a couple of months,” Casey says thoughtfully, like he’s read my mind

somehow. It’s wonderfully familiar, him knowing what I’m thinking. He used to all the time. Not so

much since our break-up, but maybe it’s coming back. Like grass growing back when the snow is gone.

“Looks like it, yeah.”

“Does that mean you still haven’t quite made up your mind?” he scolds me.

I shrug helplessly and kick at a small stone on the pathway. “It just doesn’t feel right to leave Mom

alone for so long. I won’t be able to drive down on weekends sometimes to check up on her, and stuff

like that. What if she needs me?”

“She’ll always need you, but here’s the thing: this is your life. You mom’s social worker will make

sure she’s okay. Stop worrying so much.”

“But that’s me.”

“I know,” he laughs softly. “You’re a worrier. So why not direct that worry towards more useful

topics? Like how you’re gonna get all your stuff to Berlin. A year’s a long time.”

A year’s a very long time. “I have no clue. I can’t take all my books, that’s for sure.”

He laughs. “James, what you’ve got is a library!”

“Apparently,” I frown. “Last week Professor Weisman wanted to borrow one of my books.”

“Did you give it to her?”

“Hell no. If I started with that, who knows what might come next?”

He can’t stop laughing. “Only you would turn down a professor. I love you, you know that?”

I nod, smiling warmly. “Yeah. I know that.” For a moment, it’s almost like we were never anything

but friends. Best friends. It’s a surprisingly great feeling. I don’t think I’ve been this relaxed around him

since the break-up. That’s a good sign, right? Maybe I’m over it at last. And maybe Nick is right.

Maybe setting things right with Rizzo is the next thing I have to tackle. But as hard as the situation with

Casey was at one point – it’s nothing compared to what probably awaits me with Rizzo. I’m thinking

protective clothing might be a good idea. I’ve made up my mind, though. I’m going to talk to Rizzo

really soon, and try to work this out. I need to at least explain to him why I did what I did. He deserves

it. And even if he hates me completely now, I need to let him know how I feel about him. That nothing’s

changed, as far as I’m concerned. Not that it’ll do me much good. But sometimes there are things you

just have to do.

Chapter 9

Bitter Pill

DANNY: By March even the biggest skeptics are convinced that Keller is the best thing that could have

happened to the play. I never told Keller this, but our old Horatio sucked. That guy was stiff as a puppet,

and gave me little to work with. We never had a connection, let alone any chemistry on stage. With

Nick, it’s ridiculously easy. With his act together, he is a real talent. He’s even better than last year. He’s

intense, and we’re damn intense together, and I love all our scenes best in the entire play. I think Jeff

does too. I never got why he cast the other guy in the first place, and I told him so. Jeff knows going big

director on me doesn’t work. It’s been like this with us since my freshman year when he talked me into

trying out for a part in a production of Of Mice and Men. I tried out for a ranch-hand. I got the part of

George Milton. I seem to be firmly booked as leading man in his head ever since then. He’s like a weird

mixture of buddy and father figure to me. Constantly nagging me to apply for a proper drama school

after Woodhaven. This is a good school with a very good reputation. It’s even known for its outstanding

education in performing arts. But it certainly isn’t Juilliard.

But do I really see myself as an actor? It used to seem like such a great way to spend your life, doing

what comes naturally and getting paid for it. But I don’t feel any ambition when I think about it. Never

have. I don’t see myself on Broadway. I guess deep down I know what I’d really like to do. And that’s

got next to nothing to do with acting. I can hear the lure of music, like muses whispering sweet,

tempting words into my ears at night when I can’t sleep. But there’s Grazzo, and his overwhelming wish

for me to do exactly that, to follow in his footsteps. And that’s exactly what’s holding me back. I’ve

always been so conflicted when it comes to music. I had my first piano lesson before I could walk. All

through my school years, I tried out various instruments, and I’ve always been best at the piano and the

sax. Just like Grazzo. Only I’m better on the piano, and he on the saxophone. But damn it, I don’t want

to be a clone of my dad. Who does? I never wanted to be “the son of”. All my life I’ve fought to be my

own person. Here at Woodhaven it was pretty easy. Out in the world, not so much. Because believe it or

not, sometimes I do get recognized as his son in the streets. Everyone says I look just like him when he

was young. Most would take that as a compliment. It isn’t for me. Sometimes I wonder if Lilah has

rubbed off on me, but I have my own reasons for not wanting to be associated with Grazzo all the time.

If I went into music – not a chance.

Anyway, no matter what I do after graduation, what it all boils down to is that it looks like I’ve been

nicely wasting opportunities at Woodhaven. It’s hard to believe my time here is drawing to an end so

quickly now. Only a little over two months left. It’s insane. I wanna stay, and at the same time I can’t

wait to get out of here. Andrea and I have had this plan of traveling Europe after graduation for ages.

We haven’t talked about it in a long time, but if she’s still up for it, I’m game.

It’s past nine pm when I enter my dorm after rehearsal. The corridor leading to my room is pitch black

because the light bulb went to light bulb heaven earlier, so I don’t even notice that there’s someone

sitting beside my door until I almost step on them.

“Damn!” I curse as someone jumps up right in front of me.

“Oh god, sorry,” a familiar voice replies worriedly. “I didn’t mean to startle you. But the light isn’t

working.”

“No shit, Mills.” What the hell is he doing here? Trying to give me a heart attack? I’ve been ignoring

him since before Christmas, and I thought he got the message, so what is this now? Come to think of it,

I’ve seen him come towards me numerous times for a while now. Never gave him a chance to get close

enough to get on my nerves.

I manage to unlock the door without too much fumbling around, and turn on the light inside, letting

it fall into the corridor where we’re standing. “Were you planning on camping out on my doorstep, or

what?”

“Oh, I…”

“You got ten seconds, Mills. Spill.”

“I need to talk to you. It’s really important. I swear.”

I’m bored already. I glance at my watch. “Six seconds left.”

“Rizzo – oh, screw this.” I’m taken by surprise when Casey Dearest has the nerve to actually push

past me into my room. He sits down on the edge of my bed and crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“I’m not leaving before you hear me out.”

What the hell is this shit? “Who are you, Liz Taylor?” Nevertheless I close the door behind us with

my body weight and lean against it. Yeah, I’m not sure why either. Maybe because the prospect of

dragging Mills out by his hair after a four hour rehearsal isn’t all that tempting.

Mills looks up at me a little sheepishly. “Sorry for barging in like this. I’ve been waiting for an

opportune moment to talk to you, but it just never came. So here I am.”

“I noticed that,” I reply dryly. “So what brings me the displeasure of your presence?”

“James,” he simply says, and a weird moment of silence follows.

I ignore the uneasy feeling that name brings about, and give Mills a look. “How about this: whatever

it is, I don’t care.”

He tilts his head to the side and looks at me thoughtfully. “I think you do though. You’ll want to hear

this. Or possibly you don’t want to hear this, because I guess it kinda sucks in a way, but it also doesn’t,

which makes it so important.”

I almost smile. “Yeah… See, I get the feeling you’re confusing me with someone who speaks your

language.”

“It’s complicated, okay? I’m trying to explain it…” he trails off, and we both know he was about to

say “in a way you’d understand” – and I think he doesn’t begin to realize how wise a decision it was to

leave that sentence unfinished. Mills sighs deeply and looks at me with his stupid big blue eyes like he’s

the one finding this situation less than thrilling. You’ve got no idea how close I am to physically kicking

you out, boy.

He continues, slowly and calmly. “I just can’t let this go on any longer. Because it’s insane, you and

James.”

“It may have escaped your notice, but there is no ‘Foley and me’.” Why am I even talking to Mills?

But deep down, I’m somewhat curious why he came here. Damn. But what on earth does he want from

me?

He sighs a little. “I know. And that’s what’s so insane. Look, Rizzo. I know you’re aware of how I…

felt about you. Even when I was with James. And when I told him that, he did something amazing.

Because he is a wonderful friend. And I think you really don’t quite deserve him, but I know the two of

you… you had something. Something James and I never had. It’s like… you get him somehow. I don’t

know.”

“Is this going somewhere?” I haven’t felt the need for a smoke in a long time, but I crave one

desperately right now. What is all this bullshit he’s telling me about Foley and me having had a “special

something”? Special my ass. The one thing that was special about it was that especially messed up

break-up right out of nowhere. I can feel the anger and hurt stirring again deep inside, fiery and

unforgiving, but I keep a neutral, slightly bored expression.

“Just let me finish, okay? Did James ever tell you why he ended things with you?”

I can feel a little frown on my forehead, just for a second, but Mills spots it. Asshole.

“Thought as much.” He smiles a little, sympathetically. I think I may have to punch a geek after all.

My fist clenches and unclenches on its own account, but at least it wipes the damn smile off of his face.

Mills finds the nerve to look into my eyes. “He did it for me. He did it because I couldn’t stand

seeing the two of you together. He did it because he didn’t want to hurt me more.”

I can feel my heart hammering madly in my chest as I’m trying to process his words. What is he

saying? That J did this shit to me so that his BFF didn’t get his precious feelings hurt? Does that mean

he tore me apart, ripped me into pieces and trampled on me just because Casey Dearest was getting all

teary-eyed when he saw us hanging out? That’s the reason? Seriously? I don’t believe this. All this time,

I was thinking god knows what. I thought I was the one to blame somehow. That I’d done something

Foley simply couldn’t deal with. That, I could have understood. But this? Forget that.

My fist clenches again like it has a mind of its own, and I stare at Mills. “Time’s up,” I finally say

quietly, but the threat is so evident that he practically jumps up from the bed. “Get out.”

“Rizzo, you have to understand that this had nothing to do with the way James feels about you. It

was a huge sacrifice he made for me, and I know he regrets it. And I feel awful because I suspected he

might do something like that and I let him. It was selfish of me. Things were over between him and me

way before you managed to come between us. We never should have been together. I realize that now.

So I guess I have no right to hate you for it. Or to make both of you suffer because of how you went

behind my back.”

He takes a deep breath and his stupid voice trembles slightly, making me want to punch him so hard,

but somehow I can’t. So he rambles on as he gets closer to me and the door. “And I’m sorry, Rizzo. In

the end, I was the one who messed it all up. It’s my fault, and if you want to take it out on someone, it

should be me, not James.”

I very slowly step closer. “Why are you still here?”

“Okay, okay, I’m leaving. And I really am sorry. But you weren’t the only one who got hurt in this.

We all did.”

I open the door, but he just won’t stop talking.

“I just hope some day you’ll understand that you and James deserve a shot. And that you’ll find it in

you to give him another ch…”

I don’t let him finish. I grab him and virtually toss him out of the room.

* * *

One hour later I stand under the shower at the 24 hour gym next to campus, having worked off all my

anger and frustration as best I could. I let the soft water run down my body soothingly, but I’m feeling

strangely numb. So I turn the tap to icy cold, and I exhale harshly as the cold water hits me. But it feels

good somehow, stinging my skin like needles.

I know what people think of me. They think Rizzo doesn’t give a shit about anyone but himself. And

yeah, for the most part, that’s probably true. But those select few I do care about, I would do anything

for. Just as long as they never knew. I can set the scumbag who almost raped Andrea in freshman year

up so that he gets kicked out of college. I can make sure the dealer who almost got Keller killed doesn’t

ever come near him again. I can do that. I’m good at the revenge thing. I’m good at the intimidation

thing. I have no problem treating anyone I don’t care about like shit. ‘Cause I also happen to be good at

not having scruples.

But once I did grow to like Foley, I wouldn’t have done to him what he did to me. He gave no

reason, no explanation. Just “it’s over, deal with it”. And I thought I was over it, but god, it still hurts

like hell.

Foley doesn’t hurt people on purpose. He may be a snarky bastard, but he isn’t heartless. And then

he went and did this to me all the same. I know, who am I to talk, and I know I’ve done things far worse

than that to people I didn’t give a shit about. Maybe this is karma kicking me in the guts. But as I stand

in the icy cold shower, letting the water run over my face, I just want to be who I used to be before I

ever met James Foley. But hard as I may try, I’m not that same guy anymore. And then a weird little

conversation with myself starts that goes something like this:

“Why can’t this shit ever end? It’s like the shit that keeps on shitting.”

“At least now you know why. He was trying to protect his friend from getting hurt.”

“By hurting me instead. I love that logic.”

“Forgive him. You know you have to forgive him or this will eat you up.”

“I can’t. I’m not ready to.”

“You need to let this go.”

“What do you think I’ve been trying to do for months?”

“Forgive him.”

“I said I can’t.”

“I see. But you still want him back, don’t you?”

“I DON’T!”

“Don’t lie to me. You know you do.”

That’s when I turn the water on fully, and the sound of it rushing down on me finally drowns out my

thoughts. I feel like I’m turning into ice, and the needles are digging into my skin, but I clench my teeth

and stand still as a rock.

* * *

When I close the lid of the grand piano at the large theatre auditorium that night, having played for over

an hour, I feel even more confused than I did before. Usually the music helps me figure stuff out

without having to actively think about it. But tonight it felt like with every note I played, my damn heart

was breaking all over again. Images are dancing in my mind, images of us together. The memory is so

vivid that I can almost smell the scent of his skin. And it makes me want to crawl right out of my own

skin. Deep inside the need to hurt him back the same way he hurt me is killing me. And I realize that all

these months of keeping my mouth shut, staying as far away from James Foley as I could didn’t get me

all that far. I’m still in the same place. Only I’m not numb from the shock or whatever it was anymore.

I’m angry. It’s like poison in my veins, keeping me from breaking free. And I need him to know.

I’m not sure what devil possesses me to do it, but my feet seem to walk me to his dorm room on

their own account. It’s a quarter to midnight, but there’s light coming through the crack under his door. I

raise my hand and knock.

A moment passes before I can hear a chair getting pushed back inside. Foley looks pale and tired

when he opens, but the moment he sees me, he freezes in plain shock. And then his gray eyes light up.

“Rizzo!”

“You wanna tell me something? For god’s sake show a little backbone and do it yourself.”

“Um – what are you talking about?” He seems completely puzzled, but then it slowly dawns on him.

“Oh no. Casey? Has he been talking to you? I told him not to.” His eyes are not as bright now that he’s

seen how angry I am, but there’s still an annoying shimmer of hope in them.

“With little success.”

“Shit.” James swallows, looking even paler now. He looks at me standing there, all my muscles

tense with anger, and he seems lost, unsure what to do. He clears his throat. “Do you… do you want to

come in?”

“This won’t take long.”

“I hope not,” he tries cautiously. He takes a deep breath and adds, “Damn… It’s good to see you.”

Since I won’t come in, he steps out of the room, closer to me on the narrow corridor. My heartbeat

accelerates, but I ignore it.

“Really? That’s funny. Last I checked you were still pretending I didn’t exist.”

“Yeah. About that… I know that was messed up. I wish I could…”

“Undo it? Well, you can’t.”

I can see pain flickering in his eyes, and that feels pretty good to me right now. His shoulders

hunched, his arms hanging at his sides, I’ve never seen him look so lost. He seems so fragile all of a

sudden, like one strong breath of air could make him shatter into a million pieces.

“Can I at least apologize to you?” he says quietly, sincerely. “Will you allow me that?”

“Save it. All I want to know is this: Did it ever occur to your supposedly brilliant brain that you

sacrificed the wrong pawn? Did you think, hey, he’s Rizzo, he’ll get over it?”

His expression changes to something harder, the familiar defensive wall coming up. “I thought it

would be easier for you than for him, yes.”

I laugh out coldly. “I don’t believe this! You put me through hell, and you don’t even realize!”

He shakes his head, his entire body tense now. But his eyes have softened, and are pleading with me.

“I’ve been trying not to think of you. That’s the only way I could manage to stay away.”

“You managed pretty well.”

He hesitates, and I can tell that there’s something he isn’t quite sure he should tell me. But then he

does. “That’s the way I work, Danny. That’s the only way I can function some days. I think you know

that.”

Danny. He slipped back into calling me Danny. Suddenly it’s summer again, and he’s at my house, in

my bed, having just told me about Simon, and there’s an intimacy unlike anything I’ve ever known.

Heart’s beating like crazy. Every fiber of my body is craving for his touch, aches for him. But that’s not

how this works, and it’s not why I came here. I push the feeling back violently. “Don’t use that to justify

what you did,” I push out through clenched teeth.

James nods. “I’m not trying to justify this. I hated the possibility of hurting you. But Casey has been

my friend for a long time. And let’s be honest, Danny. I barely know you. Sometimes you let me in, but

you keep wearing those stupid masks…”

I interrupt. “So it’s my fault? That’s what you’re saying?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m trying to explain why I sacrificed the wrong pawn, as you put it.”

He does something quite unlike him then by stepping closer, close enough for me to feel his warm

breath washing over my face. I hate myself for getting goosebumps. “I get that you don’t want to hear it

now, but I’m sorry as hell for what I did, and for how I’ve been treating you. That was not okay. That

was messed up.”

Momentarily I don’t know what to say. He looks into my eyes, trying to read me, looking for a sign,

anything. But I’ve got my own shield up now, so not a chance. Somehow this is what I’ve needed to

hear. I never knew how much I needed this apology. It’s like I can breathe easier now, but the hurt and

the anger still remain.

James frowns painfully. “Say something?”

“If you think that’s all it takes for me to forgive you, you’re delusional.” I didn’t mean to say that

aloud, but somehow it got out.

He swallows, and nods. “I understand.”

I snort softly. “So that’s it? That’s what you’re gonna do, just accept this?”

“What do you want me to do, Danny? Just say it.” He looks all lost again.

Fight for me. Show me that you want me back! Because words won’t do. Words are not enough.

That’s what I want to say. But I can’t somehow. If he doesn’t get it on his own, I can’t help him.

“You figure it out,” I finally say and turn to leave. He lets me go, and I hate him for it. Do

something! Stop me, hold me back! But he’s James, so of course he doesn’t. I’m already halfway down

the corridor when his voice follows me, a quiet, yet determined promise.

“I will.”

Chapter 10

Gone

JAMES: How can I win Danny’s heart back? This question has been constantly on my mind these past

few days. Like it’s all that matters anymore. But as hard as I wreck my brains, I come up blank. And

here it is again, the realization that in truth, I know next to nothing about Danny Rizzo. What sort of

music he likes, his favorite color, his favorite drink… Although I do have an inkling about the music.

Because everyone knows whose son he is, right? But he’s never even mentioned his dad to me, and I

take that as a not so good sign. So the solution I finally come up with is this: I write Danny a letter. In