“I don’t want it to end.”
“We don’t trust each other. It’s already over.”
My head tips back, so I’m staring at the ceiling. There are a lot of things I could say, but I doubt they’d be productive at the moment.
“It’ll be a lot easier if we don’t text or call each other—to give ourselves a chance to get over this.”
I roll my eyes. We spent two years trying to avoid each other after a blowout, and it did zero fucking good to help us get over each other.
“Okay,” she whispers. “Goodbye, Shane.”
The call ends, and I toss my phone to the other end of the couch. Rubbing my forehead, I shake my head. There’s no way our relationship’s over. I don’t know what, if anything, could break us apart, but it definitely hasn’t happened yet. Whatever I need to do to bring her around is what I’ll have to do.
30
AVERY
It’s nine at night two days after my last conversation with Shane, and I’m sitting on my bed at Ethan’s, quietly crying. I was a hundred percent right to end things with Shane, but that doesn’t mean I can go more than five minutes without thinking about him. And nights are when I miss him the most.
There’s a knock on the door, and my mom says, “Sweetheart, can I come in?”
“Just a sec.” Shoving my laptop over, I get out of bed to grab a tissue. Quickly wiping my eyes doesn’t fix them. They’re really red, and I look tired.
Pitching the tissue in the trash, I walk over and open the door.
“I brought tea,” Mom says, holding up a mug. “Ginger peach.”
It’s my favorite, and I take it. “Thanks.”
“Can I come in?”
I shrug, glancing around for an excuse to remain alone. “Um…”
After Ethan caught me crying in the yard, he and Mom have been hovering constantly. I’ve told them repeatedly that everything’s fine, but convincing them with words is apparently not possible.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“Ethan said you got good news about your presentation?”
I nod, unable to muster much enthusiasm. “Smith-Hall gave me ‘best in class’ for it. Thanks again for your help. He agreed to write me a strong letter of recommendation for the internship. I submitted my application, so fingers crossed.”
“That’s great. And your last final is done?”
“Yeah, I took them both online. The teachers are good with that because of Casanova.”
“Okay, good.” She nods, then presses on, lingering in the doorway for as long as possible. “Ethan read in a Granthorpe bulletin that there was a boy in a bad car accident?”
“Yes, Todd Bardoratch. He died this morning. He had a really bad head injury, I guess, and they couldn’t save him.” My muscles tighten reflexively. I still wonder whether Shane had anything to do with what happened to Todd.
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry.” She hugs me, and it feels really awkward. “Did you know him?”
“Yes, but we weren’t friends. I’m sorry for his family, but I’m okay.”
I pull away and take a sip of tea. “Anyway, I’m gonna go to bed and stream some movies, so…”
“Can we talk about what Shane did to upset you?”
“Who says Shane did anything?” I retreat with my mug in hand.
