Warren stops even pretending to dance—not that he was doing much of that to begin with, mostly just standing there while I swayed against him. He pulls one of my hands down from around his neck, taking a step back from me, and the tears spill over again, my already cracked and broken heart thudding painfully against my chest.
“I’m sorry,” I say, my breath hitching in my throat. “I thought you liked me. I thought you’d want to kiss me.” I can’t look at him anymore.
“I do like you,” he says, holding my hand. “But you’re obviously in love with your friend Brendan.”
At the sound of Brendan’s name, a sob escapes me.
I tug my hand out of Warren’s. “I shouldn’t have—I shouldn’t be here,” I choke through tears. “I’m so sorry, for this, for everything.”
“Su-Lin,” he says, and his expression is full of concern and all it does is make me feel more guilty and awful, both for trying to use him and because I failed so spectacularly at it. “Do you want to go somewhere and talk? You can tell me what’s going on—Su-Lin!”
I barely hear him, because I’ve started running. I can’t do this anymore. Sobs are racking my whole body, and the only person I’ve ever really wanted to talk to, or been able to talk to, when I hurt like this—well, when I hurt at all, since I’ve never hurt likethis—is Brendan, and that’s gone. How can we even be best friends anymore, when I’m so in love with him and every time I see him will be a reminder of how much he isn’t in love with me?
Why couldn’t he just be in love with me?
I run from the ballroom in my elaborate ball gown like Cinderella, only I’ve got well-laced footwear, so I’m not leaving any shoes behind for my prince to find, and it’s not like he’s looking anyway, since he’s got his tongue down some other princess’s throat.
I run, gasping and shaking, into the hallway, where the brighter lights hurt my eyes. People are looking and I should go back to our hotel room, but my legs are so weak and I’m trembling so hard I don’t think I can make it. So I find a big pillar I can hide behind and slide down it until I’m sitting in a puddle of dark blue fabric and beads like stars, and I pull my knees up to my chest and let myself cry.
Twenty-two
Brendan
The moment Jane’s lips hit mine, my brain cramps.
This is wrong. Wrong wrong wrong.
Her lips are too soft and too firm all at once, too . . .wrongagainst mine. She’s pretty and she’s fun, and it’s not like she doesn’t know how to kiss.
But she’s not Su-Lin, and I never want to kiss another girl who is not Su-Lin for the rest of my life.
I break away, leaning as far from her as I can get in the egg chair.
“Are you okay?” Jane asks. “Are you having a panic attack?”
Apparently Emily told her a lot of things. “No, I just, I need to go.”
Jane’s eyes widen. “I’m sorry! I thought we were on the same page.”
“Yeah, no,” I say, rubbing my eyes and shaking my head. “It’s not you, it’s just—”The words fall out of my mouth before I consider whether I should be saying them to Jane. “I’m in love with Su-Lin.”
Jane looks stunned, and then she smiles. “Really? You guys would be so cute together! But I thought you were just friends. Oh my god, did she reject you?”
I blink at her, my brain so muddled that I can’t keep up with her. “No,” I say. “No, we’re . . .” I need to go find her. I need to go find her and tell her that I’m in love with her and I want to be with her every day—everyminute—for the rest of my life. “I have to go.”
Jane’s smile softens. “Go get her,Tiger,” she says, and takes a long swig of her soda.
Okay, Jane is awesome. She’s not Su-Lin, but she’s awesome.
“Sorry,” I say. “It’s been a really confusing week.” I squeeze her arm gently and fully extricate myself.
Jane settles back in her chair like she’s enjoying taking a back seat to this drama, and I get up and canvas the room, looking for Su-Lin.
I don’t find her, but I do find Warren. He’s sitting by himself in one of the egg chairs on the other side of the room, looking down at his drink like it’s offended him.
I don’t want to talk to the guy, but I’m betting he knows where Su-Lin is. “Hey,” I say. “Have you seen—”
“She went that way.” Warren points to one of the doors out into the convention center. “Tell her I’m sorry. I feel like shit, but I doubt she cares to hear it from me.”
