‘Anytime.’
‘At the risk of ruining everything,’ I blurt, the words tumbling from my lips before I can stop them. ‘In the bathroom the other night you said I don’t know everything. What did you mean by that?’
This time, she’s the one reaching for my hand. She places her fingers over my knuckles, tracing them. My skin is on fire where she touches it. The cool metal of the ring I bought her rubs against my skin, and I glance down at it. I’m glad she didn’t throw it out; I spent weeks saving up for it.
‘It doesn’t change anything now. Don’t worry about it.’
‘I am, though,’ I insist, gripping her hand. ‘I want to know.’
An alarm blaring from her phone startles us both, and she quickly scrambles for it, shutting it off. ‘Gotta go. Dance class.’
Disappointment sinks in my chest. I was so close to getting answers, only for them to be torn away again. I’m desperate to know what she meant.
Anya gets to her feet, collecting her things. Touching my shoulder, she smiles down at me.
‘I had a good time with you this afternoon. See you later.’
Chewing my lip, I spend an insurmountable length of time watching her walk away, feeling as if I’ve been left with far more questions than answers.
21
ANYA
Three Years Earlier
MY TIRED EYES READthe same sentence over and over, none of it transmitting to my brain. A silver lining of this unofficial break-up with Mason is that I have thrown myself into my studies like never before.
As hard as we both try to avoid each other, it’s pointless. The tension is worse than ever, and I can barely breathe when he’s nearby. It’s not fair on me, it’s not fair on him and it’s not fair on anyone else who gets involved. Three times in the past two weeks I’ve heard Chelsea and Mason arguing about me, and I barely even make eye contact with him when he’s in the same room. The tension is completely dialled down compared to what it usually is, so if she’s still able to sense it, then I don’t know what else to do.
‘I want everyone to have read up to chapter eight by class tomorrow, as we’ll be having a quiz on it,’ Mr. Dawson states, and there’s a quiet groan in response. The bell blares loudly overhead and there’s a collective sound of textbooks snapping shut, chairs scraping against the linoleum floor and chatter breaking out.
‘What are you up to over the weekend?’ Phoebe asks, looping her arm through mine as she guides us around the desks and out of the classroom.
‘Undecided,’ I answer.
She side-eyes me. ‘Meaning?’
‘I haven’t given him an answer. About the date.’
Phoebe’s lips tilt. ‘Which one, babe?’
I groan. I should be flattered that there are two nice, attractive guys who want to go out with me. Both of them are great. They’re fun, athletic, we share common interests, and they truly seem to be very nice guys. I’m starting to question my own sanity for having less than zero interest in either of them.
‘I think I’m broken, Phoebs,’ I say hopelessly, dragging my feet.
She scoffs. ‘You are so young and so beautiful, my girl.’ She leans over, brushing her lips against my cheek. ‘Drop the loser older friend, and start focusing on the very, very hot boys right in front of you.’
‘Hey!’ Dylan greets us, his long floppy hair falling across his forehead. He sweeps it off his face, only for it to fall right back in the same spot a moment later. He turns to face Phoebe and nods. ‘Phoebe.’
‘Dylan.’ She smiles coyly, grazing her shoulder against his arm as she sidles past him, shooting me a wink over her shoulder.
‘Hi, Dylan.’ I smile politely, feeling my shoulders tense as he beams at me. I don’t miss the way his eyes dart down to my legs. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m excellent. How are you?’
‘Good, thanks.’
‘Walk you to English?’ he offers, falling in stride with me. A part of me wonders whether he asked Phoebe how to get my attention and if she suggested this, because he seems to be popping up everywhere, offering to do things for me. It’s really nice, but my head is a mess. It’s hard to focus on anyone other than Mason.
