Rhode Island
Senior Year
The picnic tables were finally open again in the senior lunch area, but I found it hard to pay attention to the sunny sky or the warm spring breeze, or even the excited prom chatter happening at our lunch table.
“My dress is red, so your vest has to match,” Candy informed Matt.
“I’ll be rocking a cummerbund and a bow tie. None of this vest shit for me,” he replied.
“As long as they’re red, you can wear your underwear on your head and she won’t care,” Violet cut in.
Matt grinned and turned to Candy. “Now there’s an idea. By the way, my underwear will be black and lacy so make sure yours match.”
Violet turned to David and batted her eyes. “My dress is pink, baby. Do you think you can get a pink tie so everyone knows we’re together?”
I stifled a laugh. While Ryan had a whole collection of pink polos, I’d never seen David wear pink in my life. He was the male equivalent of a girly girl—a boy-y boy?—and he’d never go for it.
“Whatever you want,” he said, and planted a kiss on her neck.
My sandwich nearly fell out of my mouth. I had to force myself not to gape, not only at what he’d said, but at what he’d done. Violet had always been PDA Offender Numero Uno in their relationship; she was the clingy one. While David had never rejected her advances, it was only recently that I could remember him being the initiator. Ever since I’d turned him down, in fact.
“Kelse? Hellooo?”
I blinked at the realization that Ryan had been talking to me. “Sorry, Ry. What?”
“I asked what color your dress is.”
“Oh. It’s white with silver beads. So as long as there’s no gold in your tux, anything will match.”
Ryan’s brow puckered. “You seriously didn’t hear a word I said, did you? I asked so you could tell me what kind of flower you want.”
“Anything is fine,” I mumbled guiltily.
“Oh!” Violet cried. “Do you know what would be so pretty with my dress? An orchid!” She batted her eyes at David again. He pulled her closer and whispered something in her ear, to which she promptly erupted into giggles. They carried on like that for a full minute—his face buried in her hair, nibbling at her neck, telling her things the rest of us couldn’t hear while she yelped and giggled and wiggled.
My sandwich threatened to come back for an encore performance.
The end-of-lunch bell sounded then, and Ryan shot to his feet and gave me a hurried kiss good-bye. “Gotta run,” he said. “I’m one tardy away from a week’s worth of detention.”
Everyone scattered, me included. But instead of heading to class, I lingered by my locker, knowing David would pass by on his way to his next period. We hadn’t spoken at all since Saint Patrick’s Day. When he said he planned to cut me out of his life, he’d meant it—he didn’t even look at me anymore. He treated me with the same indifference he’d have for a dead bug or mud on the bottom of his cleats.
If he didn’t have anything to say to me, fine. But I had a few words for him.
I hissed his name as he breezed by, acting like he hadn’t seen me at all. My hand shot out and grabbed the sleeve of his T-shirt, and I pulled him into an alcove of lockers tucked into the corner of the hall. “I need to talk to you,” I spat.
He looked me up and down, like the idea of talking to me bored him senseless. “So talk.”
“Whatever you’re trying to pull with Violet, you need to stop. Don’t you dare use her to get back at me.”
David’s face contorted like he’d eaten something vile. “Violet is my girlfriend. What the hell are you talking about, ‘using’ her?”
“You were ready to drop her like a bad habit when—you know when. Now she’s your frigging snuggle bunny? You’ve never acted this way with her. Never. And if you’re doing it to make me jealous, I’d say that’s a pretty douchey way to get back at someone.”
His jaw tensed. “You are something else, you know that? You really think it’s all about you.” He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “I held back with Violet because of all the unfinished bullshit between you and me, and now I don’t have to. So if she and I are closer, it’s not because I’m trying to get some twisted revenge on you. I don’t care what you think anymore.”
A tiny gasp escaped me. He’d more or less said, I’m over you. Which was exactly what I’d wanted for all these months, wasn’t it? I should’ve felt relieved, but the words digested about as easily as a wad of slime.
“Good,” I said, trying to pretend he hadn’t snuffed me out like a candle. “You shouldn’t care.”
“Then we’re finally on the same page.”
He turned to walk away, but I called after him. “David? Has she asked you why we’re not talking? Has she noticed?”
David grimaced. “I haven’t told her, if that’s what you’re asking. But I’m sure she’s noticed. She isn’t stupid.”
“Don’t you think it looks worse if we don’t talk at all? We either need to come up with a reason why we’re not, or we should at least be civil.”
David looked like he didn’t quite buy my logic, and honestly, I didn’t even know where that had come from. If Ryan had noticed the wall between David and me, he hadn’t said anything either. Probably because he wanted nothing more than for David and me to loathe the other’s existence, and he’d have no problem with our relationship staying on a never-ending bad spell. Eventually he’d want to know why, though, and Violet would too.
“Civil, huh?” David said. “I guess. Especially since we’ll be in the same limo for prom and everything.”
“Right. Venomous hatred becomes kind of obvious in small, enclosed spaces. So let’s work on keeping that in check.” I forced a smile, but David’s mouth stayed settled in a solemn line.
“I don’t hate you, Kelse.”
My insides seized. Definitely hadn’t expected that.
A nervous laugh bubbled in my throat. “I’ll bet I’m off the hook for that dance, though.”
“What dance?”
Heat crept up my neck and I waved him off, embarrassed that he didn’t remember asking me to save him a dance for another time the night he’d gone to the Swirl without me. “Nothing. I don’t hate you either, David. And . . . I’m happy for you and Violet.”
The corner of his mouth twitched and he nodded almost imperceptibly. As we went our separate ways, I couldn’t feel the satisfaction I should’ve. The conversation had more or less been a success: He wasn’t using Violet as a pawn, and we’d established that we didn’t hate each other. Yet I felt gutted. I almost wished we hadn’t talked at all.
Because knowing he hated me would have been a thousand times easier than knowing he didn’t love me anymore.