Shit—I’ve hurt her. I want to recant because none of this even matters, but my foot’s crammed so far down my throat, there’s not a chance in hell I’ll be able to yank it out in time to salvage this conversation. “Piper—”
“Yeah, okay, sometimes I do things Imightreevaluate later,” she says, her voice growing stronger, “but that doesn’t mean you get to throw them in my face.”
“I’m not—”
“You are. You say I’m acting holier-than-thou as you sit there judging me. You’re not perfect, Henry. You’re sheltered, set in your ways. You think misfortune is a dad who’s excited to take you golfing. You know that’s not an actual problem, right?”
I’ve got nothing.
She was onto something weeks ago, when she worried that getting Tati and Davis together might mess things up between her and me. That’s what’s happening. We’re arguing, firing low blows, and neither of us is hearing the other.
All thanks to my dad and her sister.
She watches while I stack my paper plate on top of hers. She watches while I collect our napkins. She watches while I get up off the floor.
“I’m gonna go,” I tell her, even though what I’d like to do is forget the last ten minutes and climb back into bed with her.
“You said you wouldn’t,” she whispers with doleful eyes.
“That was before.” I reach out to smooth her hair. “This isn’t how I thought tonight would go. I don’t want to fight. I’m not even mad, really. But we’re not getting anywhere, and I don’t want to say something that makes things worse. Let’s talk tomorrow, okay?”
She nods, but her face is shadowed with doubt.
How many people have promised her tomorrow, then walked out of her life?
I head for the door, but before I step out into the hallway, I turn back and say, “Piper, I promise I won’t disappear.”
Piper
Tati and Davis spend all weekend apart.
Her phone doesn’t move from its charging port on the kitchencounter. I peek at its screen every time I walk by. Davis has called a few times. He’s sent a lot of texts too, but I can only see one, stacked on top of the rest:Can we please talk?
As far as I know, Tati doesn’t respond.
Henry and I keep our distance too, though there are scattered texts, and a couple of choppy phone calls..
With the exception of eating and peeing, I spend all of Saturday and most Sunday in my room. I get sad every time I think about how Friday fell apart, and Tati’s as frigid as ever, but what’s really bothering me is knowing how much better I’d feel if I could talk to Gabi. She’s the best buffer when it comes to my sister and me, and she’s a master at putting boy troubles into perspective. If Damon hadn’t screwed everything up, I’d text her now. She’d be at the door in half an hour with magazines, facemasks, and a pint of Peanut Butter Fudge.
I worry about her. She thinks she’s found a prince in Damon. She thinks her parents and I judge him unfairly because he’s rough around the edges. She won’t—can’t?—see who he really is, and that terrifies me. Friends or not, I love her. I never want her to experience her boyfriend’s cruelty.
Late on Sunday afternoon, I draft a message in my Notes app, not the text thread Gabi and I used to blow up at all hours. God forbid I accidentally hit send—I’m not ready for that. But I am ready to put words to the truth.
Damon wants you to believe I started what you saw. I didn’t. I didn’t want him to touch me. I didn’t want him to kiss me. I told him no, but he wouldn’t listen. I don’t know how far he would’ve pushed if you hadn’t walked in. He’s not good for you, Gabi. He’s dangerous.
I close the app and toss my phone onto the bed.
Maybe now my wounded heart will scab over.
Restless, I go to the kitchen. Tati’s there, sifting through papers at the table, half a mug of coffee to her right. She’s dressed and made up, but it’s a front. Her ragged cuticles and bouncing knee betray her agitation.
I pull a seltzer from the fridge, then say mildly, “You should call him.”
She taps the edges of the papers on the tabletop, aligning them, avoiding my gaze. “You should mind your own business.”
“Come on, Tati. You can fix this if you want to.”
“I shouldn’t have to fix it.”
