For some reason, she looks confused, even though Gina is going to one of the top universities in the country. Certainly, she must be confronted with more difficult concepts than this all the time.
Except…
I frown.
Does she know? I glance at Mateo. He is trembling.
Oh, God.
Of course, she must know. Mateo would have told her if he was dating me. Gina and he lived together. She would have noticed that he hadn’t been going to have sleepovers at my place, no matter what he said afterwards.
I think back to the days after I woke up, when my head was pounding, and everything was aching. Mateo had been my main focus back then. I’d been so pleased to discover that I’d somehow managed to get a boyfriend, that I’d spent my time watching him in fascination.
But Gina had been there too.
She’d been bringing Mateo his clothes, she’d been cooking, she’d been chatting with my parents and sister.
And she’d been lying.
“Yes,” Mateo says. “Of course I’m moving to Nashville. “
Gina presses her lips together. She’s scowling.
Maybe she thinks Mateo has already been too helpful to me, and… Oh, yes. She’s right. He definitely has been too helpful.
“Mateo.” Gina’s voice is stern. “I don’t think?—”
“I need to go!” Mateo blurts. “Come, Gina. Dinner is canceled. I need to pack.”
And then Mateo drags Gina out of the apartment.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SEVEN
Mateo
Gina’s lips are pressed into a tight line as we head toward the bus stop beside Florian’s building, and her nostrils flare.
“You can’t be serious!” Gina says, once we’re past the security guard. “You can’t follow your fake boyfriend to Tennessee. Do you know how far away Nashville is from Boston? It’s not nearby.”
“It’s one thousand miles away,” I say.
“That’s practically to San Juan!”
“I know,” I say miserably. “Though you could get there by driving.”
She raises an eyebrow. “How many hours of driving?”
“Seventeen hours.”
Gina shakes her head. She looks angry, and I hate it.
She’s never angry. Teasing sometimes, but not angry.
But her hands are definitely clenched, and her lips are definitely pressed together, like there’s a whole series of things she wants to tell me but won’t.
“I couldn’t say no,” I tell her.
