I pull her into a hug, and she resists for half a second, her body rigid, and then she melts into it, her forehead pressing against my collarbone. She’s trembling.
“You’re more than good enough,” I say into her hair.
She pulls back after a moment and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. “Sorry. That was a lot. And on top of everything you’re dealing with. I’m sorry.”
“I’m your bestie. Don’t apologize.”
She pulls out a compact mirror to check her mascara. “I really hate that someone is sending all those texts. You don’t deserve that. No one should get bullied.” Her voice cracks, and I know she’s not just talking about me anymore.
“We’re going to be okay,” I say.
She nods and dabs at her eyes again with her fingertips. Once her makeup is fixed, she flashes me a bigger smile. “Let’s go back before everyone shows up and takes the good spots at the table,” she says.
“You look cute.”
“Shut up.” But she’s giving me a real smile this time.
We return to the picnic table and we’ve barely sat down when I see the rest of our group crossing the lot. Aubrey first, because Aubrey is impossible to miss with her orange-streaked hair, combat boots, and confident stride. Carter is beside her, easy and loose, his eyes scanning the trucks as he approaches. Aeron is trailing slightly behind with his hood up and his hands buried in his pockets.
And Dorien.
Black leather jacket. Gloved hands in his pockets. He walks beside Carter, and when they reach us, he sits at the far end across from Carter without so much as a glance in my direction.
I am so ready to murder that man.
Beside me, Cinna’s eyes follow him as he sits. She bites her lip, observing him a little too closely, then turns her attention to Aubrey.
It’s not the first time I’ve noticed her giving Dorien an interested side-eye when she thinks no one’s watching. But I’ve never brought it up. I think it’s because I’m afraid of the truth.
Regardless, it’s been almost a minute and the bastard still hasn’t looked at me. He’s seriously going to ignore me after violating my privacy the other day?
Fine.Good. I don’t want him looking at me. I don’t want anything from him, least of all the apology he obviously has no intention of offering. He broke into my phone, read my messages, responded to my harasserwithoutmy permission, and now he’s sitting six feet away acting like I’m not here.
Why didn’t he just wait until I got out of the bathroom?
I had been in the stall crying, my hands shaking so badly I could barely lock the door. The text was so specific and so ugly it felt like someone had reached inside my body and found the softest place and pressed down hard. I sat there with toilet paper wadded in my fists and mascara running down my face for ten minutes, and while I cried I thought about what Dorien told me before:If anyone gives you trouble, tell me.
The real tragedy of this situation was that Iwasgoing to tell him. I was going to go back to class, sit beside him, and say, “Look, this is happening. I’m scared, and I need someone to know.” Because he said he’d show up, didn’t he?
Then I came back and found out he’d already made the choice for me.
He stole my choice, and it’s moments like these when I think back to our childhood and wonder what really happened that day because it’s all so fuzzy.
Did he steal my choice back then too?
Or was it all my fault?
I glance at the ice cream truck. The anger from Dorien unlocking my phone sits in my shoulders and behind my eyes, but now there’s grief too.
“Hey, June.” Aubrey drops onto the bench beside me. “You look like someone spit in your latte.”
I snap back to the moment andignore ignore ignore.“Charming as always.”
“I’m serious. I swear I’m not trying to be bitchy. You’re clenching.” She taps her own jaw. “The clenchy thing.”
“I’m fine.”
Cinna, bless her, changes the subject. She starts talking about a gallery opening she saw posted near the art building, and Aubrey jumps in with a strong opinion about the artist’s use of found materials, and for a few minutes the conversation carries itself without needing anything from me. At the far end of the table, Carter is telling Dorien one of his insane stories, gesturing with both hands. Aeron sits next to Dorien. His sketchbook is open on the table, but he’s showing more interest in Carter, actually smirking at the dummy.
