“I saw her yesterday.”
“And?”
“There’s no,and.” I jerk upright in my seat and drum my fingertips on the steering wheel. I don’t want to talk about Emily. “Besides, we were working.”
“There should be anand.” She taps the toe of her shoe on the gravel. “You should’ve done something that day. You should’ve punched Spencer for poaching on your girl and dragging her out of there.”
“Let it go.” My teeth are clenched as I wish I could crawl into a ditch and lay there until she leaves.
“The night before, you went on and on about her. How you felt. How it could change things between you and Kaleb. Your plans for moving back home after graduation.” She unlaces her arms and swings one in front of me, waving it into the air.
Like I could forget how the coffee turned cold and the cookies were too stale to eat, we talked so long. Or the pinging messages from Amanda who was still trying to get me to go to her place instead of hanging out with my mom.
I eventually had to block her because she wouldn’t stop blowing up my phone.
“We talked about everything. Then I get a cryptic message from you. That you’re leaving town, and–”
“Mom!” Ivy leans out the now-open car door. “Come on. I’m tired of waiting. If I knew you were going to spend half the morning in a mother-son powwow, I would’ve had Jamie’s mom pick me up for school.”
“I’ll be there in just a second.”
When my mother returns her attention to me, Ivy mouths, “You’re welcome.”
I tip my head to her in thanks because if I say the words, I’ll get backhanded in the chest and another lecture. Before she turns her wrath on my sister.
“I’m not finished. I’m not pleased with that girl. I don’t understand why she’d choose some boy she didn’t even know over you. You’d been her brother’s best friend for years.” My mom’s eyes flash with anger.
“Mom, I said, let it go.” I grip the steering wheel with both hands. Yes, after a lot of soul searching that weekend, I’d realized that my serial dating was because I didn’t want a girlfriend. I wanted Emily. Not anyone else.
I didn’t want one-and-done. Or a weekend fling. I was finally ready to admit what I’d hidden from myself for years. I wanted her. I wanted a future with her. A real future. Dating. Convincing her to fall in love with me. Living together. Marriage. Children. Everything.
It didn’t matter that I wasn’t good enough for her. I was going to prove to her that I could be what she wanted. What she needed.
And the next day, I walked into the café to grab her a piece of triple-chocolate cake as a peace offering and found her with Spencer, my supposed friend and roommate. Instead of telling her how I felt, spending the entire Christmas break with her, and making plans for a long-distance relationship, she blew me off.
Then, I had to watch her kiss the loser that I brought to her house.
Spencer tried to talk to me after one of our other friends brought him back, but all he got was a punch in the face. The punch my mom wished I had given him. The one that I never told her about.
I moved out and never spoke to him again. Not that I didn’t hear stories about him. Late that same night, when he made it back to Columbia; he was making out with a couple of girls at a party. The first one had to go home early for her curfew, so he found another one. And that’s who Emily wanted?
The door squeaks open again. “Mom!”
“I need to go.” I nod to her as I grasp the door handle. “I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, too.” She clutches the birthstone necklace at her throat and rubs the diamond at the top–the one for my birthstone, followed by Hannah’s emerald and Ivy’s opal. We went together and got it for her last year for Christmas.
After I start the engine, I back up and drive off without glancing in their direction. I don’t want to think about Emily,so I shove her in a box where she belongs–Toys We Stupidly Wished We’d Gotten for Christmas. Those toys that our parents knew we’d discard a minute after opening the box, because they were all flash and no substance. And remind myself, she’s not who I thought she was.
When I roll to a stop at the sign at the end of my street, a vintage, dark green, supped-up Cutlass revs its engine to my right. Within the shadows of the interior, the driver stares me down. Chad Whitlock. There’s a young girl in the car with him, but I can’t make out her features. She’s slumped in the passenger seat, facing the opposite window.
I grip the steering wheel and frown. Chad Whitlock was the biggest asshole in our class. Mean, cruel, and sadistic. It wasn’t unusual to find him pushing grade-schoolers around and stealing their lunchboxes. Or at least, taking out the items he wanted and tossing the rest on the sidewalk.
It was stupid to hope that he’d have moved away. Granted, I expected him to be in prison rather than driving the streets, but here he is. He revs the engine again while staring me down and then stomps on the gas, laying rubber on the pavement. But he’s smart, he doesn’t go a mile over the speed limit.
Fuck. I shake my head in disgust. I didn’t just think that Chad was smart, did I? What’s gotten into me?
I chuckle as I pass through the intersection, lifting a finger to wave at an oncoming car. Chad’s a no-account loser.
