21
Valentina
I’m not the jealous type. Then again, I’ve had no reason to be jealous. Maybe I’ve always had a little green-eyed monster resting inside of me, waiting for its moment to wake up and cause havoc on the one I love.
But as I walk out of my class on Friday, I realize I don’t have a green-eyed monster inside of me. Instead, there’s just me. The girl who sees the truth. That everyone else is a better choice. I think I’d rather be jealous.
Huxley is waiting outside my class like he has been all week. But today he’s talking to another girl, and she’s flirting. He’s smiling at her, too, but I can’t tell if he’s flirting back or just being nice.
If he was laughing with her, I would say he was flirting, but every time she giggles, he almost looks uncomfortable. Or maybe that’s wishful thinking. Or maybe he knows I’m up here and he’s trying not to flirt with her in front of me.
I have got to stop thinking about this. Maybe you should just stop breathing while you’re at it. Good idea.
Thankfully, my dark thoughts leave when the girl does, and I pull myself together with a deep breath to finish descending the steps.
Huxley turns to me when I approach him, a gorgeous smile filling his face. “Hi, Love.”
“Hi.” My voice sounds tired, and maybe I am.
No one ever tells you the mental drain that comes with dating someone. Constantly worrying about someone better taking them away, and worrying that you’re never enough and they’ll get bored with you. That you’re moving the relationship along too slowly, and they get frustrated and end everything.
Or maybe…maybe that’s just me.
His smile fades at my tone. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
He’s not convinced. He tries to search me for any clues as to what’s going on in my head, then his eyes jump behind me in the direction the girl went.
He sighs. “Is this about the girl I was talking to?” I don’t move or respond. “I’m not cheating, Valentina.”
Why doesn’t that make me feel better? I know it should, but it just doesn’t. “I didn’t say you were.”
“But you’re upset about the girl, aren’t you?”
I cross my arms over my chest, staring at the ground.
I feel pathetic acting this way. Especially since I have no reason to be. But he could have easily gone after that girl. Slipped away with her before my class was done—texted me that we were over. I don’t really think he would do that, but I wouldn’t blame him if he did.
“And what if I am?” I say to the ground.
“Valentina,” he says softly, stepping closer to me and setting, what should be, a comforting hand on my shoulder. “They mean nothing.”
But it’s not. Because why did he just say, “They?”
Huxley closes his eyes in frustration.
“What do you mean they? How many have there been?”
His hand drops from my shoulder as he looks away from me. “A few.”
I just stare at him. Partially because he isn’t looking at me while we’re talking about him getting hit on by other girls, and also because, of course, he has.
I should have known. I really should have. What I shouldn’t have done was expect girls to just stop trying to be with Huxley just because he wasn’t available anymore. That was my mistake.
“How persistent are these girls?” I ask, just wanting to know.
He shrugs. “I mean, a few of them have tried every day this past week.”
“Do they not understand no?” Unless he’s not saying no. What if he’s saying later? Later could mean tomorrow, next week, next month, next year, but it doesn’t mean no.
Huxley looks back at me. “Look. I thought they would go away the second they knew we were together. But I keep telling people no, and they don’t believe me.” His words calm my thoughts for a second, but something else keeps pressing in my mind.
I look away from him this time, staring out over campus. “We’re so different,” I whisper as two Freshman girls throw glances Huxley’s way while giggling.
“What do you mean?”
My eyes find his again, catching on to the hint of confusion lurking in the deep color. “You have to push people away from having sex, and even then, they still want you. I had to track you down.”
He smiles, but it’s not mine. “I’m glad you did.”
I don’t believe you.
I look at my feet again, wishing I could rewire my brain.
“Look. I have an idea that might help with all this.” He shifts on his feet. “I just don’t know how you’ll feel about it.”
God, what is he going to say? “What is it?” I ask cautiously.
He pulls in a breath. “We go to a party together.” As he exhales, he adds, “As a couple.”
“A party?”
A nightmare.
That’s what he’s suggesting, a complete and utter nightmare.
At the last party I went to, I left the house crying. And he knows that. Because he was part of the reason.
He nods. “That way, people will actually see us together, and it will hopefully get these girls to leave me alone.”
There it is. My heart tightens in my chest, and I subtly lift my hand as if I can soothe it from outside my body.
We aren’t going to a party together because he wants to show us off as a couple and make people believe that we’re great together. We’re going because he wants girls to see us together, so they hopefully leave him alone.
I’m a deterrent. Not a girlfriend.
If he wanted you as a girlfriend, he would have asked you without the deal.
I nod and ignore my thoughts. “I’ll go to the party with you,” I say evenly. “I’ll help you with them.”
His brows scrunch together. “You make it sound so technical.”
“It’s our deal, right?” Those words taste like acid on my tongue, but I push through. “I’m your fake girlfriend, so they leave you alone?”
He nods immediately, and my chest protests while my mind keeps it on mute. “No, I know that,” he says with an edge to his voice. “But you can still sound a bit more loving about it and not make every moment feel robotic.”
My eyes widen a fraction, and a bit of anger fuels my words. “When have I made it robotic before? This is what we agreed on, and I’m just reinforcing that.”
He narrows his eyes. “If you don’t want to go, then just say that.”
Jesus.
It’s me. Hi. I’m the problem, it’s me, apparently.
“That’s not what I’m saying at all,” I defend. “Unless you don’t want me to go.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Well, neither did I.”
He turns away, annoyed. “You know what, I’ll just see you there.”
“Huxley.”
He doesn’t stop. I don’t even know if I want him to stop. Maybe it’s better if he just keeps walking away from me. Maybe I should…
I press my hands to my head to stop it from going down the road it wants to. I already had enough thoughts when he was talking to that girl, and look where it got us.
I don’t want a bad day. Not when I’m with Huxley. I don’t want him to see me hit that point. Because my bad days can end with a call to 911. They have before.
I pull in a deep breath. We have to make this work. We just need to try a little harder. Starting with this party.
I just hope we both make it out of this alive.
Figuratively.
And I suppose literally as well.