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My soul splits, as if he hacked me open with a machete, exposing muscle and sinew to the air.
A sound I’ve never heard him make crawls up his throat. “I wanted to tell you. I started to . . . so many times.”
“But you didn’t.” Dazed, I climb to my feet, operating on pure instinct as I drag on my underwear, then my jeans, finally shoving my feet into my sodden sneakers.
He lowers his gaze to the floor. “I was afraid you’d hate me if you knew.”
I nod, babbling to myself as I attempt to process this new information. “I need to talk to Nicole. We have to change everything for the final round. Since you’re so fond of secrets, I’m sure you won’t mind forgetting last night ever happened.”
His mouth drops open. “You’re still going through with it?”
“Thanks to you, I have no choice.”
“Bullshit!” He raises his voice again. “You could quit. You could use the college money your dad set aside for you.”
I jab my finger at him, striking air. “Don’t you dare talk to me about my father. You have no idea what it’s like to have a parent betray you!”
Jordan jerks back as if I stabbed him through the heart.
I croak out a laugh. “I never should’ve trusted you. I should’ve listened to my mother and picked some random guy to just get it over with.”
His eyes flare. “You don’t mean that.”
“The hell I don’t.”
Mom was right all along. Love complicates everything. No one’s riding in on a white horse to save me. I have to save myself. I march to his window and fiddle with the lock.
“What are you doing?”
I slide the window open. “Leaving.”
“You can’t go out that way.”
“I came in that way! Besides, I’d rather your aunt and uncle weren’t witness to my walk of shame.”
He slams the window. “I told you before, they aren’t home. They had a prior commitment they couldn’t get out of.”
“Fine.” I spin on my heels and walk out of his bedroom. It takes me a few minutes to find my way to the front door, but I finally make it to my car.
And cry the whole way home.
31
After my devastating breakup with Jordan, I lock myself in my room for the rest of the weekend. After letting my phone die, I can’t bring myself to charge it. I don’t want to talk to anyone, especially him.
Sunday night, I tell Mom I’m too sick to go back to school. How am I supposed to smile and pretend everything’s okay after he eviscerated my heart, laying it open for the world to see?
For reasons even I can’t comprehend, I haven’t told anyone that it was Jordan who posted the list. All I want is to put the whole thing behind me and move on. But everywhere I look, from the rosy-pink orchid on my wrist to my own fiery red curls in the mirror, I see him . . .
Monday morning, my mom knocks on my door just past seven. “Kennedy?”
“I’m up,” I lie, pulling a pillow over my face.
“I let you wallow all day yesterday, but you can’t hide in here forever. You have to go back to campus,” she calls through the door.
I yell out a muffled “Why?”
“For starters . . .” Mom pulls the pillow from my face.
