He studies me for a moment, like he’s trying to read everything I’m not saying. “He didn’t do anything, right?”
“No, Dad. Nothing happened.”
A small breath leaves him, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. “Okay. Good.”
His hand comes to rest on my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I can make you some tea.”
I shake my head, my throat still too tight for anything warm or comforting. “No thanks. I think I’m just gonna go to bed.”
“Alright, honey.”
He stands and presses a soft kiss to the top of my head.
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
The door closes quietly behind him and I lie back down, staring up at the ceiling as the room settles into darkness. This is better, I tell myself. I mean, now it can’t get complicated. It would’ve only made things worse. Feelings never work. They only ever get you hurt. So it’s fine. Fine. Fine. Fine.
39
RYAN
I honestly lost count of how many lies I told the last couple weeks
“Are you sure you’re good?” Noah’s voice cuts in.
Fuck, if I knew.
“Yep,” I say, giving Noah the quickest nod ever.
I glance up from my desk, still half stuck in my own head. The instructor is explaining chain of custody and evidence contamination, writing bullet points on the board, but it’s all just background noise at this point.
I didn’t sleep one minute last night. So when my alarm went off this morning, I wanted to throw the damn thing out the window. But I got my shit together and managed to get to school.
I just couldn’t get her out of my head. And what she said in the car last night. I still don’t understand what the hell happened. What switched? Two days ago we were kissing. And then yesterday she just said we should stop the fake dating—which, for the record, stopped being fake for me a long time ago—and go back to being friends.Friends.
Fuck that.
But maybe none of it meant what I thought it did. All the talking. All the laughing. The way she looked at me. The goddamn kisses. Maybe it meant nothing to her.
But that doesn’t make sense. It felt real.Shefelt real.
But whatever it was—it’s done now. And God, it hurts like a bitch.
Kiara, sitting on the other side of Noah, tilts her head and studies my face. “You don’t look good.”
“Geez. Thanks.”
“Honey,” she says, not even a little sorry, “those bags under your eyes make you look like you slept in mascara.”
Shit. Is it that bad?
There’s a small pause. The teacher keeps talking, marker squeaking against the board, but none of us are paying attention anymore.
Then Noah says, quieter this time, “Maddy told us what happened.”
I take a slow breath in through my nose. “Yeah,” I manage. “I figured.”
