“Wait, Reeve. I want to hear what you had to say last night.”
His face contorts oddly, like he finds that both funny and unbelievable. “That was last night.”
I reach for his hand. “Come on. I know you’re mad, but give me a break. He gave me a ride home, that’s all. I regretted it as soon as I was in the car. Talk to me. Please?”
“I need to go to school. We can talk later.”
“Tonight? Monday night is always Spanish night.” I give him a coy smile. Spanish night always leads to the best sex of the week.
He presses his lips together, his brow furrowing. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I can help you with that anymore.”
“With Spanish?” I ask, not understanding.
“Yeah.”
“But my interview is next month. I need you more than ever.Capisce?”
“Capisceisn’t?—”
“I know. I was trying to get a smile out of you.”
He doesn’t smile. “Jade, listen. You might want to think about getting another tutor.”
“What do you mean? All this because of last night? Reeve, I said I’m sorry.”
“I know what you said, Jade. But I’ve got a season to focus on, and I need to keep my head where it belongs. Honestly, your Spanish test doesn’t mean a whole lot to me right now.”
Ice floods my veins, freezing my heart in my chest. “So that’s it?” I ask quietly, afraid if I speak louder, I’ll cry. “You can’t help me anymore?”
“No, I don’t think I can.”
FORTY-ONE
jade
I spenda few days beating myself up for getting into the car with Sam, and then I realize that’s not the real reason my relationship with Reeve is in no-man’s-land. It’s not why he hasn’t called or why his text responses all amount to him being too busy with football to type more than five words. It’s because this was always going to happen.
Our strength was just an illusion. This vague relationship was never meant to last. Yes, it was real, but it was fleeting. And didn’t I always know that?
Every morning when I wake up, before I’ve even opened my eyes and remembered what day it is, there’s that tiny ember of hope still glowing inside me. Maybe today is the day when he’ll come back to me. But after three days, my stomach aches, sickened by the unknown. I need to talk to him.
Thursday, an hour before I’m due for my shift at Somerset, I text him.
Jade: Are you working tonight?
Reeve: No.
Jade: Where are you right now?
Reeve: The Phantom.
Jade: I’m coming by.
I wanted him to be home, alone and wishing for me like I’m wishing for him, not out at a bar where he’s among dozens of people who love him when they don’t even know him. Not getting drunk and thinking about which girl he wishes he’d chosen over me.
When I reach the bar, my eyes find him immediately. He’s leaning down to talk to a petite, curly-haired brunette, his hair still damp and spiky from his postpractice shower. Jealousy stabs me right in the gut, hot and sharp. They don’t touch. They’re not flirting. With her baggy jeans and thick sweatshirt, she definitely doesn’t look like the type who would catch Reeve’s eye, which somehow makes it hurt worse. Nothing about this moment makes me want to stick around and see how it plays out, except for the fact that he is still my boyfriend, even if it doesn’t feel like it anymore. Only when the girl turns to the side do I realize it’s Maisy.
“Reeve,” I call out.
