I didn’t have long to wonder if he was speaking hypothetically, of some future occasion that might never arise. When he kissed me again my lips were slightly parted, which led to the revelation that French kissing was neither slimy nor gross.
This discovery was so absorbing I didn’t hear the gym doors clank, or the footsteps heading in our direction. It wasn’t until a voice called my name—not, I suspected, for the first time—that the world came crashing back into focus.
Dear Diary,
I used to think the termpathetic fallacyreferred to a poorly constructed argument, but it’s actually about the weather, and making it seem like nature has human emotions. Which is why it’s always stormy inWuthering Heights, because even the wind and the rain are caught up in the tempest of dysfunctional behavior.
M.P.M.
Chapter 26
Arden was the first to reach us.She yanked me away from Alex. “Are you okay?”
No. No, no, no. It was the only word my brain could form. My lips must have moved, because Arden rounded on Alex.
“How dare you?” Wrapping an arm around my shoulders, she pulled me to her side. I felt like a mannequin, stiff and unwieldy.
Alex rubbed his forehead. “I’m not sure what you think is happening here. Mary—”
“Don’t even think about it.” Lydia shoved between us.
Alex leaned sideways, trying to catch my eye. I knew he was waiting for me to explain. But what could I say?It just happened. Part of me hoped if I stayed very quiet, everyone would forget I was there.
Unfortunately, they were all staring at me. I put a hand to my cheek, certain it must have hardened like clay inside a kiln from the heat of my embarrassment.
“It’s okay, Mary.” Arden stroked my shoulder. “We’re here now. You’re safe.”
“Mary,” Alex began, and I cringed at the entreaty in his voice.
“She doesn’t have to talk to you.” Arden waved a hand in his face.
“I think she does, actually. Mary,” he said again.
Forcing my eyes open, I took a deep breath. “It’s not ... ah mmm.” I bit my bottom lip and was briefly lost in the memory of what that mouth had been doing mere moments ago.
“You don’t have to explain,” Arden said soothingly. “We know how men are.Especiallyhim.”
My mouth opened. It was imperative to tell them it wasn’t his fault, that what they’d seen had not been a case of the hardened seducer leading the naive young maiden astray. But I couldn’t make the words come out.
“Stockholm syndrome.” Terry’s voice was heavy with sympathy.
Lydia glared at Alex. “It’s lucky we got here in time.”
There was an agonizing half minute during which I might yet have spoken up, telling my friends the truth. And then my time ran out. Alex raked a hand through his hair. With a last disbelieving look at me, he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked away.
“And don’t come back,” Arden yelled after him.
The only response was the heavy door to the outside slamming shut behind him.
Arden wrapped her arms around me. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. We shouldn’t have left you alone.”
To my horror, I felt my eyes well with tears. My friends surrounded me, murmuring reassuring words, but their kindness only made me feel worse.
Gently, Arden turned me in the direction of the doors. “Let’s get you home.”
“I’m going to grab our coats,” said Lydia, still scowling ferociously.
“I’ll let Cam know we found her.” Terry turned to follow Lydia.
