He scans the text. “Because you already know I uploaded the video. I’ve already apologised for it.”
“A muttered sorry five minutes after we had sex isn’t an apology. Why did you do it?”
His friends appear even more startled than Zane as he shakes his head, fumbling for words. “Because I was scared of going to prison.”
“No. Uploading a video doesn’t stop you from going to prison. It’s not a get out of jail free card.Why did you do it?”
He stares at me, looking utterly lost and I don’t know whether to slap him or shake him. Then he frowns at the table. “Because the gossips wouldn’t look closely enough to see it wasn’t real. They’d take it at face value and if you tried to report a different story, no one would believe you.”
“And?”
“It would shame you into keeping quiet.”
“Exactly.You shamed me into keeping quiet.” I poke my finger at the list again. “That’s an example of what you apologise for. Not this bullshit laundry list of actions.”
I shake my head, retreating a step, and my voice cracks as I ask, “How could you ever believe that’s the first item on your list?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
AVON
Zane’s expressionsplits apart like an earthquake cracking along a fault line. It shows the same agony I saw on the night of the party as he realised his mistake; the dawning horror spilling through the gaps.
But his attempted apology has already been too much for my frazzled emotions. This time, when he opens his mouth, I hold up my hand to stop him. “Not today. I’ve had enough of you for today.”
I turn and walk back to the lunch table, taking a seat while the girls stare at me expectantly. When I shake my head, their expressions change to disappointment. I poke my fork back into my meal, taking it out on the limp greens.
A tear slides down my cheek, then another.
“Waterworks alert,” Clare says in a cheerful tone, used to my overemotional reactions. “You need a tissue?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
“No wonder Zane fell in love,” Dahlia says with a chuckle, ignoring a pointed glare from Evie. “What? You know about hislittle foible, don’t you? How he only likes girls with faces who are wet, wet, wet.”
My eyes jerk to her, grateful for an easy distraction. “He what?”
Evie makes a growling sound of annoyance, then reaches over to give my forearm a reassuring squeeze. “It’s called dacryphilia. He gets aroused when girls cry.” She throws her napkin at Dahlia who’s completely unaffected.
“Why would you want me to keep his secrets?” With a toss of her head, she turns back to me. “And it’s hardly fair to you when half the school knows.”
“It’s obviously not the only reason,” Evia quickly adds. “Just because he has a fetish doesn’t mean he didn’t fall in love with the whole package.”
The conversation is strange, but I feel somewhat reassured. All that work to prove I’m not as ugly as I’ve internalised over the years, yet he mentioned nothing about my tears. Except to say… “Oh, fuck.”
“What?” Evie asks, her voice flooding with concern.
“No, it’s—” I flap my hand, caught between sobbing and laughter. “Zane kept going on about my expressive face”—my chest hitches but I push on through—“but forgot to mention there was only one expression he liked.”
The laughter wins until I’m crying for an entirely different reason. After a nervous pause, Dahlia and Evie join in while Clare just shakes her head. “You’re all crazy.”
“Says the girl who stole her ex-boyfriend’s phone.”
“You did?” Dahlia snaps her fingers and Clare immediately relinquishes her treasure. “Just going to check there aren’t any dirty videos left on here.”
That makes me think of the polaroids nestled in my pocket. I’m grateful that I don’t have to worry about them. It’s all tooeasy to imagine sitting alone in my bedroom while my thoughts wander into crazy town.
“Oh, snap. I think you might need to delete this one.”
