Senior Year #2
"What's that supposed to mean?" My eyes finally flick up to his.
"Nothing." He shrugs, the picture of innocence. "Just that some people are treating this pen pal thing like it actually matters."
"It does matter. It's an assignment," I snap, crossing my arms.
"Right. An assignment." He drums his fingers on the table. "That's why you've been staring out the window during the meeting, doodling in your notebook instead of paying attention."
"I'm taking notes." I challenge back with a look that says why are you doing this?
"Really? Let me see." He reaches for my notebook. I snatch it away with a scowl before he can grab it. "Defensive." His eyebrow arches, and there's something dangerous in his expression, something pointed and deliberate. "You catching feelings, Fairfield?"
My heart stutters then slams against my ribs. Ah. There it is.
He's testing me. Deliberately pushing buttons to see which ones make me flinch, what truths I'll accidentally spill.
The realization sends equal parts excitement and terror coursing through my veins.
He's figured it out. Or he thinks he has.
He's fishing for confirmation, trying to catch me in a reveal I'm not ready to make.
And God, as certain as I am about who's been receiving my messages, the one person who understands me in ways that terrify me, who responds like he can read between every line I write, I've doubted it just as fiercely.
Hope is dangerous. Hope has teeth. And every single time I've let myself believe in something good, it's turned around and gutted me.
His eyes don't leave mine, waiting. Watching.
I stand, my chair screeching across the floor, my face giving away nothing before I turn my gaze back to Eldridge. "I can't do phones."
"You're Student Council VP, and phone duty is on your schedule tonight," Trigg says, his voice tinged with a hint of annoyance at my defiance.
"And I'm delegating. That's what good leaders do." And because Eldridge owes me, I keep my eyes locked on his when I say, "Is this going to be a problem, Eldridge?"
"No." His eyebrows rise, and I know he hears the finality in my question. I'm not asking. I've kept his little ruse to deceive me quiet. Not once have I brought it up, but he's aware I know every sordid detail of how he attempted to portray himself as someone he wasn't. "Emma can help me."
I roll my lips at the mention of his sister's name, who I know is sitting to his left, but I'm currently refusing to acknowledge her existence.
He stutters, "Or Martin. I'll ask Martin."
"Great," I say, grabbing my stuff off the table in one swoop before heading toward the door. "See you guys tonight," I say without glancing back.
"The meeting hasn't been adjourned," Trigger calls out behind me.
I don't validate his comment with a response. I can’t.
I need air. My heart pounds as I push through the door, and I hate that it's racing.
I hate that, even now, walking away from him, all I can think about is the way he looked at me when he asked if I was catching feelings.
Like he cared. Like it mattered to him. It's ridiculous.
He pushes every button I have, gets under my skin in ways no one else can.
But that's the problem, isn't it? No one else can.
And as much as I hate the way he makes me feel off-balance and defensive and alive, I like it. God help me, I like it.
I've just stepped outside when I hear the sound of the school door pushing open behind me. "Asha, wait up," Eldridge calls after me.
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear as I wait at the top of the steps. "What do you want, Eldridge?" I can't help the tinge of annoyance that carries in my tone.
"I know you're mad at me, but don't be mad at Emma. I messed up. She was only trying to help me.”
"You guys both lied to me," I state firmly, holding his gaze so there's no mistake, no way for him to twist the meaning.
"I know." He exhales a sigh of regret. "But you have to understand. I didn't know another way. I wanted to get to know you on a deeper level and…" He averts his gaze before adding, "You're not exactly approachable."
"That's a cop-out," I say before turning on my heel and starting down the steps.
"Asha, hear me out." He follows in step beside me.
"I heard all I needed to hear," I say coldly, my arms crossed tight over my chest. "You, of all people, don't get to use that 'not approachable' bullshit. I was friends with your sister, and we serve on the student council together."
"Maybe so, but you never remove the fuck off stamp from your forehead," he counters defensively. "You're smart as hell and…"
He stops as we pause for a student riding their bike across the path, and a warm breeze kicks up the scent of fresh mulch from the newly planted flowerbeds lining the walkway.
"Have you looked in the mirror recently?
Look, I knew you wouldn't talk to me otherwise.
When I got word that you might have a thing for your pen pal, I saw an opportunity, and I jumped on it," he continues, his words tumbling out in a rush.
"It wasn't meant to be a lie forever, just a door opener," he tries to reason as he reaches for my elbow.
I jerk away, picking up my pace down the tree-lined path toward the residential quad. The dormitories loom ahead, their brick facades warm in the late-afternoon sun, window boxes overflowing with bright petunias and trailing ivy.
"I had a boyfriend; there was never an open door," I remind him icily. When he got caught in his lie, I was still dating Penn.
He bites his lip, frustration evident in the hard set of his jaw. "We both know Penn was a D-bag. If he wasn't, you wouldn't have been catching feelings for your pen pal."
I roll my eyes, hating the truth that lingers in his statement, but I had my reasons for keeping Penn around.
"Penn lied to me, just as you did," I say wearily before continuing down the tree-covered path back to my dorm. "So how are you any better?"
"Come on, Asha. I never would have fumbled you. There's no way in hell I'd ever look at anyone else."
"What do you want from me, Eldridge? This can't possibly be your argument to fill the spot," I say, eyes forward.
"Just give Emma another chance. I threatened to tell our parents about her boyfriend if she didn't help me."
I stop short of reaching for the door to enter my building because that comment piques my interest. "Is she not allowed to date?"
"She can date, just not him. He's a Gallagher, and our families have been rivals for years. They would accuse him of using her to get to them, forbid the relationship, and ship her overseas to live with my mother's sister."
I stare blankly at him for a second as his words hit a nerve I wasn't expecting. But only for a moment; I can't leave space to care.
"Fine," I say flatly, swiping my card and pulling open the door.
"Really?" His voice drips with hesitant relief, a hint of hope creeping into his features.
"Yes, but I'm still not doing phone duty tonight," I tell him as I pull open the door. I don't bother explaining. I planned to break my silence tonight anyway, when I asked for answers.
The door clicks shut behind me, sealing him outside.
I lean against it for a moment, listening to his footsteps finally retreat down the path.
I've been waiting for this. I've kept count of every transgression, filing them away until I was ready to collect.
He doesn't realize how easy it was for him to think everything is forgiven, and for that, his guard has been lowered.
I know he'll text his sister, and hers will lower too, and that's when accounts will get settled.
But tonight, everything gets laid bare, every secret dragged into the light where there's nowhere left to hide.
I exhale an anxious breath because it's not just their secrets that are being put on display tonight. So are mine.
I watch as Emma stands in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting the band of lace woven through her hair.
She's wearing a baby-blue dress with delicate fairy lights sewn into the hem of the skirt.
She holds up an ornate purple-and-gold mask and studies her appearance for the thousandth time tonight before her gaze catches mine in the mirror.
"You know the whole point of the masks is that you can hide behind them, right?
You look like you're about to face a firing squad," she says before turning to face me, where I lie sprawled across my bed.
I quirk a brow and take a deep breath before toying with the lavender lace on my bodice.
She once again mistakes my silence for nerves over meeting my pen pal.
I should've been more careful. I never admitted out loud that I was falling for my pen pal, but because I let her get close, she saw things.
The constant texting throughout the day.
The stupid grin I'd get reading certain messages.
The way I'd check my phone the second it buzzed.
It wasn't exactly subtle, and she's not an idiot.
She put it together. What bugs me is that I slipped up in the first place and gave her the chance to use it against me.
"If you're worried he's not going to be interested once the mask comes off, don't be.
That boy has been texting you good morning every single day for the past three months.
He sends you playlist updates and remembers your aversion to cilantro.
You literally have nothing to stress about.
I, on the other hand, have no idea who's on the other end of my phone. "