Page 123 of Mad Girl

“Take me to your bedroom. That time you pulled my hair? So hard it made me cry? I’d like you to do it again. Let’s go do it.”

Michael closed his eyes. “Elliot, no.”

“Why not?”

“For one thing, my mom’s about to be home. And for another? It feels extremely inappropriate right now, given what you’re going through.”

“I’ll beg if I have to. Please.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious.”

“Elliot, you’re not in a good place.”

“Some asshole hurts me for real, and now you’re too good for that shit?”

“Yes,” he said. “It feels like I’d be taking advantage of you in a very vulnerable situation.”

“But I’m asking for it. It’s just a little consensual hairpulling, Michael. What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is I know why you’re asking for it, and no amount of pain’s going to make you feel better right now. You need help—like your dad said. You need to talk to someone.”

My shoulders fell. I closed my eyes, trying not to cry. But the tears came, anyway, rolling down my face as I grabbed my school bag.

“Elliot,” Michael said softly, walking toward me. “You know you can talk to me, right? I’ll stay here tonight, and we can talk as long as you want.”

“You want to talk now?” I asked, taking a few steps back. “After you haven’t talked to me in months?”

“I’ve been reaching out to you for weeks now.”

“Yeah. It took me almost dying for you to decide you cared again.”

“I never stopped caring,” he said, his expression so soft and genuine it pierced my heart.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Look, I could’ve handled things better. I get that, but I’ve been in love with you forever. Then I finally gathered the courage to tell you at the beach, and for ten whole days, it seemed like you felt the same way. It was a dream come true for me. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. And I thought you wanted it, too. I thought—” He stopped on a hard swallow, blinking back tears, then tried again. When he did, his voice wavered, barely above a whisper. “But you didn’t. And it fucked me up, and I’m still not over it, but I know you need me right now, so I’m here. Trying to help you through this.”

Michael’s voice came out familiar but all wrong, his hurt swelling between us, palpable and thick—crushing. A few tears slipped down his face, and he quickly swatted them away, like he was embarrassed. And what I wanted was the one thing I couldn’t have—to have never caused him pain in the first place. Any pain. Ever.

Unfortunately, once I started destroying things, I usually kept going until there was nothing left to save. So before I headed upstairs, I said, “We both know I would’ve fucked it up, anyway. So, really, Michael? I did you a favor.”

At dinner that night, Libby and John weren’t happy with me.

“So,” Libby said, wearing a sleek white blouse and thin gold necklace, the little diamonds of which sparkled across her collarbone when she moved. Her shoulder-length bob gleamed beneath the crystal chandelier, glossy and immaculate, not a hair out of place. “We need to talk about your behavior today, young lady.”

I rolled my eyes, and she didn’t appreciate that, her nostrils flaring with annoyance.

“Where were you today when you stood Bree up at the library and came home an hour late?”

“This isn’t my home.”

“For the next couple of days, it is,” Libby said.

I hated when she talked to me like this—like I belonged to her, too. “I’d like to go back to my house. Sleep in my own bed.”

“Elliot,” she said, “your dad wants you here, so this is where you’ll stay. Answer my question, please.”