She shrugs. I’m expecting her to look at me, but she’s clearly somewhere else. I try a fresh angle.
“So, I started reading one of the books on your list, and—”
“I told you—now’s not a good time,” she snaps.
“Jeez, it’s all good, man! Take it easy!”
“No, it’s not ‘all good.’ It’s actually pretty bad.” Her brown eyes flash with rage. “What part of ‘now’s not a good fucking time’ don’t you get? It’s never a good time when it comes to you, to be honest—but especially not now.” She sweeps her arm through the air. “I came here for some alone time. And for a damn good reason!”
“Reason being…?”
The second I catch her eyes misting up, my voice softens. Something is definitely wrong here. I’m surprised to find I care.
“Did something happen?”
“What happened is I amsosick and tired of seeing you wherever I go,” she snarls. “Leave me alone, okay? I don’t want to have to repeat myself over and over, but here it is one last time. I’m not interested in hanging with you, and yeah—I get that you’re used to everyone giving you exactly what you want, when you want it. But I’m not everyone.”
Ouch.
Just when I think she’s done, she delivers the final blow.
“It’s called harassment, Donovan.”
Harassment?My blood runs cold.
I get that I was a little pushy maybe, but I havenotbeen harassing her. Have I? No way.That’s not what this is.Sure, Carrie has told me to get lost more times than I can count, but never this aggressively. Up until now, I kind of got a kick out of it. I thought for sure that the vibe between us was playful. Not this time, though. This time, it stings like a slap to the face.Fuck, I feel like the biggest asshole ever. And just like that, I start to spiral.
Harassment.
I scoop up my lunch things and toss them in my bag, pulling my cap low to hide my face. I don’t say a word. There’s nothing for me to say.
When I get to my feet, I can sense her relief that I’m finally leaving her alone.
She wins. I’m officially giving up.
I cancel my workout with Lewis and head straight back to the apartment. The way I’m feeling right now, I could hurt someone—or myself. The anger and regret is overwhelming.
By the time I make it to my room, I feel like putting my fist through the wall. Falling back onto my bed, I press hard on my temples. I feel so powerless and lame.
Jesus Christ.Harassment. The word plays over in my mind on a loop.
I had managed to forget the conversation I had with my sister this summer—the fateful conversation that changed everything. I had decided to focus on my plan to be better, instead. Now, though, everything Amelia said to me back in July is crashing into focus.
MOM INSISTED MY SISTER FLYback instead of getting the bus. And insisted I drop her off at the airport. Great! I had dreaded spending time with her in a big house. Now I’m stuck with her in a small car, too.
Amelia spends the whole journey sighing, and my mind is in overdrive. Her attitude isn’t new, but it’s bothering me more since Dad’s heart attack.
I’ve been trying to get her to open up to me all week. But nada. She can be such a brat sometimes.
I pull over and turn in my seat. She checks the time on her phone.
“Why did you stop?”
“If you’ve got something to say, now’s your chance.”
I leave it there. I can tell from the look on her face that she knows exactly what I’m talking about.
“I’m going to miss my flight.”
