Chapter 37 – Chelsea
I stare at the options offered by the campus cafeteria, but everything looks like dog doo. It’s been a week since I saw Wesley with the other girl, but I still haven’t gotten my appetite back.
I’m pondering whether the baked potato or chicken salad would be more palatable for the few bites I might manage to choke down, when I feel a tap on my shoulder. Thinking that it’s Taylor, I turn around and come face to face with Wesley.
“Hey there,” he says, with a confident grin on his face.
I can’t believe the nerve of this guy.
I turn around and walk away from him, glad that I’m not actually hungry and don’t need the food I was about to order.
I still can’t believe I fell for such an arrogant player. And that he’s still not giving up.
I hadn’t answered his text. I hadn’t shown up at our spot at the pool. And I hadn’t so much as glanced in his direction during practices.
You’d think he’d take the hint. But I guess I’d just made him want to chase me that much harder, in pursuit of yet another cheap thrill. That’s how guys like him work, I’m sure.
“Chelsea?” he says, in a concerned tone of voice, as he follows after me. “Are you alright? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” I say, keeping my tone completely calm. “I just don’t want to talk to you.”
I can’t afford to break down in front of everyone. I look around, wondering who will see my embarrassing display of tears if this asshole makes me cry again.
“I know this isn’t our approved spot,” he says, looking around and lowering his voice to a hushed whisper as he continues walking after me.
He follows me through the doors leading from the cafeteria to the student lounge.
“But I don’t care. I need to talk to you and see why you’ve been ignoring me. And I don’t give a fuck who sees us.”
“Well I do,” I shoot back, trying not to reveal my anger.
Why is he so intent on making such a big deal out of the fact that we can’t be seen together, now that we’re over anyway? He must just like to rub it in my face that his latest conquest was the coach’s forbidden daughter.
But I don’t care anymore. I don’t want to feel embarrassed, or upset, or anything at all in front of other people and especially not in front of him.
I just want him gone.
I quicken my pace until I’m walking through the doors of the student lounge and outside where there aren’t as many people around. He’s still following me, but at least there’s no one around to witness me falling apart if I let him do that to me yet again.
But I won’t let him do that to me.
I’ve resolved to turn myself into steel when it comes to him. I imagine myself putting on a superwoman outfit, one that’s resistant to the weapons of arrogant players like Wesley Reynolds.
“How many times do I have to tell you to leave me alone?” I demand, spinning around to face him finally, now that the only emotion shown on my face is annoyance— I hope.
“Fine, I’ll leave,” he says, shaking his head at me. “It’s not like I want to be some creepy stalker. I was just trying to fucking talk to you.”
And then, softer and with less defiance, he adds, “I didn’t think you were like this.”
Like what? I wonder, but I don’t ask him out loud. Because I’m sure I don’t want to hear the answer.
Clearly he didn’t think I had enough self-respect to cut him off once it became obvious that he isn’t that into me. He’s used to girls agreeing— explicitly or tacitly— to be his booty call.
They probably wait around for him to call them up after he’s gone on a date with another girl. They’re probably eager for him to fit them in at his beck and call.
Not me.
“Well, you were wrong,” I tell him. “Because I’m exactly like this. Just like you are exactly like you. Which I already knew, because I heard all about it. How you were such a player. How you got into trouble at your old school…”
“Who told you that?” he asks, without denying it.
“Taylor,” I say, and then wish I hadn’t. I don’t owe him any information.
“Oh, of course,” he says sarcastically. “The ever- knowledgeable Taylor.”
“Just leave her out of this…” I start to say, but at the same time, he says, “Look, I don’t mean anything against Taylor. I just don’t know what good it does to bring up allegations from the past that are based on hearsay. I’m sure both of us have been different in the past but let’s focus on the here and now.”
I look at him, trying to figure out what any of this means. He obviously sees a ray of hope and decides to keep trying.
“I thought we had something going on that was new and different.”
He squares his jaw, as if he really means it, but I want to explode at how low he’ll stoop.
“Now you’re playing the ‘it’s different with us’ card?” I glare at him. “I can’t believe what a walking cliché you are.”
“What are you talking about?” he says, feigning innocence.
“Oh please. Like you didn’t try to feed that same line of bullshit to the girl you went on a date with last week.”
“What?” He blinks, his face a big fake question mark. “Last week?”
“Oh yeah, I guess you go on so many dates you can’t keep track, so I’ll spell it out for you.”
I didn’t mean to let it slip that I had seen him with the other woman. It shows how vulnerable I am and that it bothers me.
But now that it’s out there, I’m done with any pretenses. I just want to let him know that I know so he’ll finally leave me alone and I can start having some peace.
“Last Monday at Moon Howl Grill.”
I watch with quiet satisfaction as the recognition sets in. He can’t deny or squirm out of anything now.
“Chelsea, that wasn’t a date,” he says, with a sigh.
But he doesn’t say what it was. He’s clearly holding something back.
I bet next he’s going to tell me that he was trying to break it off with her, or she’s “just a friend” or something. I don’t want to give him the chance.
“And even if it was—” he continues, making me want to say “A ha! Caught you!”, but I don’t— “What’s it to you? You say we can’t get serious because of your father, so we have to sneak around and barely even talk to each other, and then you get mad at me because you think I was on a date with someone else? What do you expect from me? To wait around on the pool bleachers for you forever?”
I can’t believe his attempts to turn everything back around on me.
“Well what about you?” I start to say, ready to fire back with ammunition of my own.
He was the one feeling jealous and possessive about my past when we were at the amusement park. Yet he thinks I’m stupid for not wanting him to date anyone else in the here and now?
“What about me?” He asks. “Come on. Let’s have it out. I’m so sick of this back and forth…”
But it’s not worth it.
I don’t want him to know how much I care.
Cared.
“Nothing about you. Never mind. It was nice knowing you, Wesley.” I start to walk away from him yet again. “Good luck with the rest of the season and all of that.”
“You really don’t believe anything I say, do you?” he asks, but he doesn’t follow me this time.
Of course he’s trying to blame everything on me. It must be in some sort of player’s handbook. I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of arguing.
I just say, “No, I don’t,” and keep walking.
Away from him, and from the disaster that was my apparent attempt to tie down a player.
What the hell was I thinking?