My mouth falls open.“Shut up.”
He nods, calm as ever.My heart skips a beat before I can stop it.My brain blanks out for a second.I almost laugh, but end up scoffing instead.“You can’t possibly still like me.You’ve changed so much you could literally date anyone, even Mallory.Why me?”
“Why not?”He chuckles.“You still liked Laird for seven years after he dumped you.Even after you became a model who could have anyone.So why can’t I?”
“He’s different,” I whisper.“We love each other.”
“No.I love you more.I’d do anything for you.”
“Well, we grew up together.He came first.”My voice rises.
“Love doesn’t care who came first.”He shakes his head, stubborn like a kid arguing with fate.
I blink and look away, overwhelmed.His persistence is unreal, the confidence almost blinding.Is this how it feels like for Laird when I used to chase him?
Did Alan really mean it, or is he just trying to get back at me, to make me fall and then crush me the way I once did to him?Karma’s a bitch.My pulse races, my hands trembling inside my jacket pockets.
“So you didn’t do all this to ruin me?Not because Amy told you to?Not to mess with me?”
“No.Amy’s been the one messing with me all along.”He shakes his head slowly, no hesitation.
“You two are siblings?That’s bullshit.You barely knew her until high school.I introduced you myself.”
“Yeah.That was the first time I met her.But not long after that, my mom started seeing her dad.”His voice trembles.There’s something soft and sad in his eyes that makes me stop breathing for a second.
“We’re stepsiblings.”
14
The Ugly Me
Clark
High school senior year, winter holiday…
This yearismy last year at Whitehill Academy.Isn’t that great?I grin at myself in the bathroom mirror.
“Ouch!”The razor nicks my cheek.“Oh, no, no.Damn.”I grab a tissue and dab at the tiny line of blood spreading on my skin.
“Clark!Get the hell out of there!It’s almost seven!”My mom’s voice explodes through the door, sharp as ever.
“Yeah, Mom!One second!Just a little accident!”
“Hurry up and get dressed!We’re gonna be late!”
“Yes, Mom!”
I rush to finish shaving, pressing the cut now and then to stop the bleeding.When I’m done, I towel off, button up my shirt, and slide into my black suit, making sure my favorite red bow tie is straight.
“Ka-ching!You look good, man.”I shoot finger guns at myself in the mirror, grinning like an idiot.My red curls match perfectly with the bow tie.
“Clark!Down here, now!”
“Coming!”
Her voice booms again from downstairs, full of that impatient energy that means she’s either thrilled or furious, usually both.I’m still not sure why she’s so hyped about going out for Christmas dinner.Ever since Dad passed, it’s always been the two of us at home, low-key, no parties, no restaurants.This is weird, but no complaints here if she really booked us a table in some fancy Italian place.
I hurry down the stairs and find her by the front door, glaring at me with her jaw tight.“You take forever like some kind of old man!”She snaps.
