Serena's smile eases the tension in my body. Her protectiveness warms me. Because of my stupid biases about beautiful and popular people, I never would have given a girl likeher a chance to be my friend had we not been thrown together in the competition. I would have never come to know her.
This is the result of really living. Guarding my heart for all those years didn't do me any good.
Harper steps into the room. "Can we talk alone? I'd feel better…" Her red-rimmed eyes flicker to Serena's face, and she sighs. "Never mind."
She takes a deep breath, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. She's here to confess something.
"Amy, I did something really bad." Harper's voice quivers. "What I said about Tristan and me… It was a lie."
A stone settles in my stomach, heavy and cold. I blink hard, my thoughts scrambling. There’s only one thing she could have lied about.
"The picture?" I ask.
She flinches. "I was in his room studying. I took that picture just so that I could show it to you."
Serena huffs out a humorless laugh. "Diabolical. You underestimated her, Amy.”
My palms grow cold and wet. Oh God, this is bad. Did I really go through with my own diabolical plan to take Tristan down when he never deserved it in the first place?
This is so much worse than I thought. Even after giving up the idea that he was out to humiliate me, at least I could tell myself that it didn’t really matter. He’s just a fuckboy. Someone who slept with Harper because I meant so little to him. Because he doesn’t take things like sex seriously.
I place my cold hands on my burning cheeks, and my heart pounds against my throat. How will I ever face him?
Harper whimpers. “It was…wrong. Probably the worst thing I’ve ever done. I don't know why I did it. I was really…flailing."
The room spins. "I don't know if I believe you."
But I do. Everything makes so much more sense now. I really was precious to him.
I choke back a whimper.
“You think I'd come here and—” Harper’s lips tremble "—humiliate myself for the hell of it?”
No. Not if she’s still the Harper I know. Only dire circumstances would make her sacrifice her pride, like losing someone she loves.
“Did Tristan make you come here and tell me?” I ask.
Her jaw clenches. "Yes. He’s furious. He told me…” She flinches. “He told me he really cares about you.”
A torrent of shame and self-recrimination rushes through me, making me nauseated. Why did I believe her lie so readily when she’s never done anything to make amends for humiliating me in the quad, unlike Tristan? Why was I so eager to incriminate him?
Because he holds so much power over me, and I was trying to protect my cowardly heart, yet again.
“Did he really…” The hopefulness in my voice makes me want to wince, but there’s no reasoning away this fluttering in my heart. Iamhopeful. If Tristan forced her to come here—if he really told her he cares about me—maybe the situation isn’t quite as dire as I thought. “Were those his exact words? That he cares about me?”
When Harper’s eyes flash with anger, I have my answer. He did tell her he cares, and she didn’t like it.
She crosses her arms over her chest. “No, those weren’t his exact words. But it’s the impression I got.”
If her “impression” was enough to invoke what seems to be jealousy, it’s enough for me.
There’s hope.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm my frantic pulse. “Well, you’ve done your duty to Tristan. There’s nothing more for you to say.”
She jerks back as if I struck her. Did she really think that confessing her treachery would lead to a drawn-out heart-to-heart?
“That’s it?” she asks, her eyes filling with a silent plea. "You don’t want to hear my apology?”
