The cafeteria looks smaller.
The hallways seem narrower.
Everything is closing in on me. I want to get away, but at the same time, I’m desperate to stay and see him. To feel him. To be around him.
Christian is trying to keep a low profile, something I’m not sure he is capable of doing. He is waiting for me by the door after each class, and we walk together—arms linked—to grab lunch or to our next period. I can almost smell his insecurity. Ever since he and Benton fought in the hallway, he’s been trying not to draw attention to himself. But even in school uniform, everything about him is colorful. If he were a character in a book, he would jump out of the page. Like right now, we’re walking toward the entrance, about to get out of school and hit the nearest mall, and he is telling me about his upcoming trip to New York—he is trying to get into NYU and is looking at the dorms—he flings his arms in the air and gets caught up in describing the big city to me before he takes it down a notch and lowers his voice.
“So, anyway, I need a new suitcase. And maybe a new tie. I want to look the part, you know? I really feel like I can reinvent myself there.” We’re both breezing through the doors, and my heart feels a little lighter to put West Point behind me. Leaving Pierce behind is another story.
Ryan has been okay in recent days. Mostly absent and very quiet, but not in the way he was when he was using. I don’t know why, and I don’t dare to ask. He’s slowly turning into the old Ryan, and that’s what’s important.
“You don’t need to reinvent yourself,” I say absentmindedly. “I like you just fine the way you are.”
“Other people here don’t.”
“Other people here are stupid,” I drawl.
“Because you’re such a genius, aren’t you?” I hear a familiar voice behind me and twist my head with a frown. Christian spins around, his whole body tilting to the voice. He reacts to it like I react to Pierce.
Addiction. Obsession. Attraction. Reaction.
“What do you want, Herring?” I feel my nostrils flare. I grab Christian’s hand and squeeze it for assurance. “If you get anywhere near him, you’ll get expelled.” Benton should be expelled already, but Christian didn’t want to press charges, and with both Mikaela’s senator father and his own father, he never faced any real trouble. And he knows it.
“I just want to talk to him.” Benton stares at Christian. Not at me. I can’t read his expression, but surely it can’t be good. Not after their last encounter together.
“Dream on,” I snort out.
“Let’s talk.” Benton ignores me, taking a step toward Christian. “Alone,” he says.
“No.” I shake my head.
“Yes.” I hear Christian say. I want to pull him toward me, but he is already walking over to Benton in the deserted hallway. I hear the echo of his steps. I watch his back. This is love, I think bitterly. It pulls you in; it freaks you out. It outweighs whatever logical ideas and rational plans you make.
“Be careful.” My voice shakes. Benton says something into his ear. They’re not too close, but they’re close enough to look intimate. And even though no one is here but us, I know that something has changed in the jock. That this time, I don’t need to be worried for Christian’s physical safety. I need to be worried for his heart. “Hey, I can wait here for you? Maybe downstairs?” I try one last time. Christian turns around and shakes his head.
“You go. I’ll call you after. Thanks, babe.”
Reluctantly, I choke the straps of my backpack and hop down the stairs outside, taking them by the two’s. I walk over to the bus station, feeling the sun on my skin. I try to think about any of the things that should occupy my thoughts: college applications, patching things up with Dad and Ryan, schoolwork. But nothing sticks. All I can think about is him.
I slouch on the plastic bench at the bus station and stare at the nothingness across the road. Buildings. Trees. People. My bare thighs are burning on the hot plastic, but I don’t care enough to stand.
A vehicle I recognize stops in front of me, and the passenger door flies open.
“Get in,” Pierce tells me, leaning on his steering wheel.
“No,” I say quietly.
“We need to talk.”
I think about Benton and Christian. How Christian pretty much forgave Benton after he beat the shit out of him, or looked about willing to forgive him, and I shake my head. I can’t afford to be blinded by love. Not after love kicked me in the ass and tried to take the only family that I have left.
“Not interested, Mr. James.”
“Stop with the Mr. James. We’re past that.”
“A few weeks ago, you would have scolded me for calling you anything but,” I say, and not softly, shifting on the bench. “Go away. Someone can see you. Don’t want to tarnish that precious reputation of yours.”
“Get in.”
“No.”
“Fine. I’ll get out,” he says, unbuckling his seatbelt and bolting out of his car in an instant. He is double-parked in the middle of the road, and I’m pretty sure he is breaking five hundred different rules at once.
I watch as he circles the car with something in his hand. It’s a box. A big one. He drops it into my hands, and I can feel that it’s heavy. It’s wrapped in red, but it looks like a toddler wrapped it…before a car ran over it.
“This is for your birthday.” He looks at me seriously. “I wrapped it myself.” And it dawns on me that Pierce doesn’t care much about anything. He could get caught, and he doesn’t even give a rat’s ass. He is standing here with his student, giving her a present. His stubble and bloodshot eyes also tell me that he is not feeling any better than I do.
“No gifts.” I shake my head, shoving it back to his chest, still seated.
“Take it,” he says. “You have to. I’ll feel better if you do.”
“Because I’m so concerned with your feelings right now.”
“Listen.” he sighs. “This is a mistake. All of this. It can’t end like this.”
“Who are you to say?” I laugh bitterly. “You were the one to fuck it up.”
“I tried to protect you,” he says, for the one-millionth time. “Get your head out of your ass, Remington. Your brother is dangerous. Your brother is dealing with very sketchy people, and I’m worried about your safety.”
This time I can’t help it. I stand up and toss the wrapped gift into the open passenger window of his car. “No, Mr. James. You wanted revenge. Forget about what we were. Forget about what we could have been. Remember how you used to say that you were worried you’d ruin me? That you’d break my heart? Well, congratulations. You did. Yours doesn’t look to be in better shape than mine, though. So please, make it stop. Just stop. Let me lick my wounds in peace. I don’t need you.”
“It’s a Polaroid camera.” Pierce shoots me a pained look. A look I’ve never seen on his face. His throat bobs on a swallow. He looks down. “The gift for your birthday. To capture all the sad and beautiful things,” he repeats my words from the second day of school, and my heart breaks a little more.
I start walking toward the next bus station, not looking back.
This is not a love story.
This is not even a hate story.
This is a cautionary tale.
I drive after her.
I stop when I realize she’s gone to another bus station.
I curse. A lot.
I make a U-turn.
I want to call her, my finger hovering over her name on my phone.
I don’t.
I do.
I hang up.
Headmaster Charles is calling me. I don’t answer.
Shelly is calling me. I hit ignore.
My mother is calling me. I pick up.
“You need to come for your father’s birthday.” Her voice throws me off-kilter. No hello. No how are you? No nothing.
“You need to delete my number and forget I ever existed,” I retort.
“Maybe. Let’s talk about it in person.” This is so like my mother it’s not even funny. I sigh. It’s not like I have anything better to do.
“When?”
She gives me the time and the place. Says she’ll text me her full Orange County address. I haven’t visited since Gwen died.
“Is something wrong?” she asks after we’re done. I’m driving in circles. I’m thinking in circles. I shake my head, even though she can’t see it.
“No. Not something.” I laugh bitterly. “Everything. Everything is wrong.”