I don’t want to know.I have to know.
“We were at the party. I thought we were having a good time. We wound up in an empty room. I thought...”
Thankfully she doesn’t finish that sentence.
“But he said he wanted to talk about something. And then he said...” Jasmine blows her nose again, lets out this long sad sigh. “He said he’d been somethingsomethingsomething didn’t think we should date anymore. That he somethingsomething, and it wasn’t fair to lead me on.”
She’s talking too fast, her face all screwed up so I can barely read her lips.
“And then he said he hoped we could still be friends.” She nearly wails that last part.
As far as breakups go, pretty much all of Jasmine’s have been worse.
“I’m sorry.” And I’m proud of myself for actually meaning it. I am sorry. I don’t want Jasmine to be hurting.
If only they’d never dated in the first place. If only I’d warned Liam off. Told Jasmine not to go for it.
Admitted I like him.
“I should’ve seen this coming. He’s been—” But then she’s off again, and I lose the thread entirely.
“Can you talk more clearly?”
“Sorry.” She sniffs hard. “He’s been weird since the cast party. You know? And he kept talking about taking things slow. I thought he was being a gentleman. But I was the one who asked him out. I’m the one who called us official. I’m the one...” She reaches for another Kleenex and dabs at her eyes, though she misses a large streak of mascara. “I was going to tell him I loved him.”
I feel like I’ve swallowed a crescent wrench.
Jasmine loved him?
“But it was always like... he didn’t like me as much as I likedhim. He was always holding back.” She blows her nose. “Oh god. Was there someone else?”
“No,” I say immediately. Liam could never do something like that.
“How are you so sure?”
“Did he ever tell you why his parents got divorced?”
“He never wanted to talk about it.”
I swallow. “His dad was cheating on his mom. It tore him up. So no. I don’t think he would cheat on you.”
“He told you that?” Jasmine sniffs. “He never told me. He never talked to me!”
I rub Jasmine’s back in circles as she cries, her hair tickling the back of my hand. It’s still styled in the loose waves she spent hours putting in with a curling iron, even though her hair would already have a natural curl to it if she didn’t straighten it twice a year.
She takes a shaky breath. “I just don’t understand.”
My sister’s classic refrain:
I just don’t understand.
I just don’t understand why Mom and Dad are splitting up.
I just don’t understand why Nick, Jason, French Class Guy, Blake, Tristan, Animation Guy, Dominic, and all the others broke up with me.
I just don’t understand.
What’s to understand? Sometimes things don’t work out. Your boyfriend dumps you for being a techie. Your parents argue constantly. That guy in class doesn’t notice you.
