21. My Tears Ricochet #2
I may not be crying, but he sees the glassiness in my eyes, the evident moisture one blink away from running off my lashes.
He steps forward, his hands held up in front of him like he’s approaching a small but ravenous animal. “I can explain—”
A cold laugh peels from my lips. “By all means. Tell me how you, and only you, somehow didn’t know about this little bet. Tell me you showed up at my house out of happenstance that first day. Tell me how this is all just one big misunderstanding.”
My saccharine delivery only serves to drain whatever tinge of color is left on his face.
“This isn’t what it looks like—”
Sienna quite literally bursts out laughing. “Oh, honey, playing stupid isn’t a good look on you. And, I mean, really, why even bother?” She eyes me up and down like I’m nothing more than old gum stuck to the bottom of her designer shoes.
With a swipe of her perfectly manicured finger, she pulls up something on her phone and flashes the screen at me. Jase doesn’t even bother to look to see what it is, trying to snatch the device away, but it’s too late. I see part of the text message conversation.
Jase:
Target locked and loaded.
And the date?
The very morning we met.
“It wasn’t like that.”
“So you’re telling me that Daddy’s little mistress relented and let you get your car?” I taunt.
A chorus of confused murmuring follows, likely because nobody else knows who I’m referring to, but regardless, Jase doesn’t seem to appreciate me airing his dirty laundry. Every muscle in his face tightens as he grinds his teeth.
“I knew the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.
My only mistake was believing you were like your mother .
” I know I plunged the blade in just the right place, because there’s no mistaking the hurt flashing in his eyes as I turn to walk away.
I don’t give him the chance to respond, charging back down the hall.
More barking and snickers follow me the entire way down several corridors, drowning out any chance of hearing the footsteps coming up behind me. Not until Jase calls out, “Birdie!” does everything around us come to a halt.
The hairs on the back of my neck rise in response, preparing for Fight or Flight as the hallway goes quiet.
Our audience evidently wants to see this train wreck crash in real-time, but it’s the plea in Jase’s tone that has me bristling.
To anyone else’s ears, he sounds desperate. All I hear is more bullshit.
“Did you know about the bet this entire time?” I demand.
His voice drops to a whisper, as if it’ll help cushion the blow. “Yes, but it’s more complicated than that.”
To even my own surprise, I laugh, but it’s closer to a scoff than anything resembling humor. “Wow, I’ll at least give you points for finally being honest.”
“I never lied to you—”
“Oh no? Then why did you start talking to me?”
I don’t give a shit that everyone’s staring, but Jase looks as uncomfortable as he should.
“Can we please talk about this somewhere private?” The jackass tries to steer me towards one of the empty classrooms, but I shove his hand away.
“I saw the flyer for the dogfight, Jase! It was a thousand-dollar buy-in. No one strong-armed you into playing.”
“Please just let me explain—”
“Did you pay the buy-in or not?” I snap.
“Yes, but…” He grinds his jaw together, looking at the crowd gathered around us.
I wait, and wait, and wait, but there’s nothing. No explanation. At least not one he feels comfortable sharing with everyone else.
“Fuck you.” I turn back around and continue to charge down the hallway, but fingers wrap around my upper arm. Thankfully, it’s not remotely tight, only meant to grab my attention, so I’m able to rip my arm away.
“Birdie—”
Jase gets what he wants, because I whirl around to face him again, though he earns more than my attention.
Without thinking, I draw back my fist before launching it at his face. I can’t help it. The shattered fragments of my heart continue to slice apart the inside of my chest with every distant bark and whisper I hear.
Little old me is hardly a heavyweight contender, but given Jase’s response, you’d think I’m Mike Tyson. Maybe it’s because he wasn’t expecting the hit, or perhaps I’m just that angry, but he staggers back, nearly stumbling before he catches himself on a locker.
Unsurprisingly, the act earns a chorus of “ooooh”s and “holy shit!” from our live audience.
Part of me finds it satisfying, but another part, mainly my hand, doesn’t appreciate it.
I’ve never had to punch someone before, and my technique must not be very good, because I may as well have slammed my fist into a cement wall for all the pain radiating through my fingers.
Still, I refuse to cradle my hand, no matter how badly it throbs.
Not when I can feel the sudden heat of at least thirty different phones center on me.
Late to the party, Sienna rounds the corner not ten feet from us, looking bored and ordering Jase to escort her to the science lab.
He doesn’t move. He just stands there, leaning against the locker with the back of his hand pressed against the welt forming on his face, his breathing hard.
“Jase?” She actually pats her thigh, like she’s summoning a dog.
He looks between us, as if it’s really a contest. The second Sienna snaps her fingers, he seems to move on instinct, ready to cater to her. Jase doesn’t even realize at first that he’s taken a step toward Sienna, like he’s been preprogrammed.
I scoff. “Better run along after your girlfriend, like the good little follower we both know you are.”
Again, I see my words hit their target, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. After what he’s done, he has no right to be hurt.
I wouldn’t exactly call it leaving on a high note, but it’s the closest I’ll get to one, so I turn to leave again. No way in hell am I going to just stand here like some pathetic sap, hoping Jase will pick me, only to watch him walk away with another girl.
I take off down the hallway, ducking between people and making sure to get lost in the crowd. Hunkering low, I get to the adjoining hallway and through an open side door leading to the parking lot before I hear footsteps behind me. My first instinct is to run, but I opt to do the next best thing.
I hide behind the door.
It’s wedged open with a block, leaving barely enough room between it and the brick facade for me to slip into place. I manage to hide in the nick of time, because Jase comes into view when I dare to peek through the small window built into the door.
I don’t regret my decision to hide, watching him run down the sidewalk. If I had tried to do the same, not only would he have spotted me, but he would have also caught up in about five seconds.
Jase looks in every direction, expecting to see me somewhere, but after a couple of minutes, his shoulders sag and he retreats back to the building.
I duck out of view from the window, and before Jase reaches my hiding spot, another shadow falls across the door. Every muscle in my body goes rigid when I hear, “Gunning for the doghouse, I see.”
Trent.
Whatever look Jase must give in return only has him laughing.
“Hey, it’s not my fault your girl’s pissed. And you can’t blame her. You just ditched her to go run after some uggo.”
I don’t know how I could be so stupid, but for that split second, I thought he was talking about me…until that last sentence.
“Seriously, man, what’s your deal? So some nerd’s gonna go sulk in a corner somewhere. Who gives a shit?”
“ I do,” Jase snaps before he can seem to think better of it. After a beat, he lets out a long breath, now just sounding frustrated. “No one else was supposed to know about the contest. Why the hell would you guys announce that to the entire goddamn school? Now everyone thinks I’m a dick.”
“Why? It’s not like you’re the only one who participated.”
“Yeah, but the other guys can still plausibly deny it. The only person everyone knows who played is the winner.”
Of course.
Jase doesn’t give a shit about making things right with me.
He’s just interested in repairing the damage to his reputation.
After all, girls may love a bad boy, but most aren’t keen on assholes.
Jase only wanted to get me alone to smooth things over so that I’d go along with whatever narrative he concocted that would paint him in the best light.
The fact that he never bothered reaching out to me once he got his kiss on the Fourth should have already told me everything I needed to know, but this confirms it.
My fingernails claw into the brick behind me, digging into whatever impressions I can find to anchor myself in place.
I’m not sure if it’s my muscles or my lungs, but I can’t manage a decent breath, even after Trent and Jase disappear inside the building and the bell for our next class goes off.
Any attempt to draw in the air only has me wheezing as I choke on a sob and, at last, crumple to the ground.