9781250209153

“Good memory,” she says flatly. She clambers onto the bed, stretches
one leg out in front of her.
I hover uncertainly. “Can I—?”
She gestures wordlessly.
I seat myself across from her and stare into those dark, expressive eyes.
My heart is in my throat. I want so badly to get this right.
“I could say sorry again, but I don’t think that’s what you want to hear,”
I begin. “I could make some sweeping declaration of love, but you deserve
more than a boom box outside your window. Because you’re right: that
would serve me, not you.”
She watches me intently. “So what do I deserve?”
“A million things.” I look into her eyes, trying to show my sincerity.
“But from me, you deserve honesty. I haven’t wanted to be real with you
about how messy and broken and confused I feel. I tried to keep you away
by telling myself you were the popular girl who didn’t care about me. But
you do care about me. You care about a lot of things. You have a big heart
and you’re funny and headstrong. You’re one of the most amazing people
I’ve ever met.”
I swallow and fidget with my jacket cuffs. “You’ve been authentic since
the moment our cars hit. I’d like to be authentic with you, too.” I clear my
throat, and now I have to look away. “I’m not in a great headspace. I
haven’t been for months. Breaking up with Tally sliced me open in a way
that embarrasses me, because I feel like I should be over her by now. I don’t
know how much of it’s my fault. Like it’s my fault for not seeing the red
flags. It’s still my fault for believing she has a good heart deep down. I
know she’s toxic. I really do. But I miss her in this way that physically
hurts. It’s like my brain gets it but my heart is lagging behind. I’m grieving
even if I don’t want to be.”
I recap everything that happened over the last week: my conversation
with Danielle about needing closure, my decision to seek out Tally at the
Candlehawk game, my experience at Prescott’s party. I even tell her about
my conversation with my family the other day.
When I finish, there’s silence. I notice my chest rising and falling, my
breath moving in and out. Mathew is blasting the television downstairs.