Chapter Thirty-Five
105 days until graduation
Deciding to go back to London after spending half of the year in Fairwood was one of the hardest choices I’ve ever had to make.
As I look around my bedroom, as empty as it was when I first got here, I remind myself it’s the right thing to do.
For months, I have been attempting to devise a plan that would allow Genevieve to be Valedictorian without having to give it up myself. Now that the opportunity has arisen for us to both get what we want, I know what I have to do.
I’m going back to London. I’ll enroll in prep school there, finish high school, and become first in the form without stepping on anyone’s toes.
Meanwhile, Genevieve will be here—in Fairwood—making history as the first solo, female Valedictorian at Fairwood Prep.
She will be able to do it all by herself.
This is her dream; this is what she has always wanted. If I stayed, and she found out that I had the opportunity to make her dream come true, she would never forgive me.
“Are you sure about this?” I hear Mae ask.
I turn in the doorframe, seeing her standing in the hall behind me. She has tears streaming down her face.
“I’m sorry, Mae.” That was all the answer she needed before she broke.
Sobs rack her body, leaving me completely wrecked. I pull her into a hug, her body shaking in my hold. Mae already has an older brother, and yet from the moment I got here, she welcomed me with open arms. She never treated me any different from Logan; none of the Callaghans have.
“I’ll miss you,” she cries.
“I’m going to miss you too, Mae.” She pulls away from me, wiping the tears from her face. “Have you told Gen yet?”
This question has been hanging in the air since I told the Callaghan’s my decision to leave last night, along with how I’m going to tell her.
“Not yet,” I reply.
The truth is, I’ve been putting off telling her because I know there’s a possibility she’s going to be disappointed. Not only because she’s going to feel as though I forfeited our competition, but also because we both know our feelings for each other have developed way beyond that. I know it’s going to hurt her for me to leave just as much as it will pain me.
But I know it’s for the better.
Even if my heart feels like it’s being ripped in two.
If I knew this was how everything was going to turn out, I would have never kissed her, I would have never gone on that date with her, just to spare her the pain.
“Jameson.” Mae looks upset by my response. “You leave in three hours.”
I run a hand through my hair, conflicted. “I don’t know what I’m going to say to her.”
“I think the fact that she’s the only one you haven’t told is enough in itself,” she says.
“Okay.” I grab the handle of my luggage, finally shutting the door to my bedroom for the last time. “I’m going to go over to her house and tell her sometime before I leave.”
“Good,” she replies, urging me toward the staircase with a gentle shove. “Now, go.”
I laugh as we make our way down the steps. I guess I’m going now.
After a sad and drawn-out goodbye with the rest of the Callaghans, Logan has agreed to take me to Genevieve’s house before he takes me to the airport.
My plane leaves in a little over three hours, which means I have less than two hours to talk to Genevieve before I have to be at the airport.
Logan pulls into the driveway of the Alderidge house, parking his car near the garage. “You go ahead,” he tells me.
What he’s really saying is he doesn’t want to bear witness to Genevieve’s reaction.
I make my way to the front door, looking through the small window next to it. I see the foyer’s light is on, and there is movement further in the house.
I hold up my hand to knock before I notice the doorbell.I sigh, ringing the doorbell before I hear the echo of the sound inside the house.
I see more movement through the hallway and foyer before the door opens.
“Hi.” I greet Genevieve’s mom. “I’m Jameson, Genevieve’s…” I trail off, not knowing whether she remembers me or not.
“Oh, I know who you are.” Her mom smiles, opening the door further and waving me in. “Are you hungry? We just finished making dinner. I could make you a plate.”
“No, thank you,” I tell her, sliding my shoes off once I step in the foyer. “I’m kind of on a time crunch, and I was wondering if I could talk to Genevieve?”
“Yes, go ahead.” She smiles. “She’s upstairs, first door on the left.”
“Thank you.” I nod to her quickly before jogging up the stairs.
I knock on Genevieve’s bedroom door, rocking back and forth on my heels while waiting for a response.
I don’t know what I am waiting for. Maybe for her to yell ‘Come in!’ or ‘Who is it?’ And yet, I am still taken aback when the door opens, revealing a more casual Genevieve than I’m used to seeing. She’s only wearing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.
“Oh—” She jumps, clearly not expecting me.
“Hey,” I say, emotion clogging my throat as she sidesteps to make room for me to enter her bedroom.
“What’s wrong?” She asks, her voice already trembling. She must recognize my misery.
“We need to talk.”
“About what?” Genevieve glances around her room, as if to find something to distract herself with.
I follow her gaze, seeing the simplicity of her bedroom and how it so perfectly aligns with her personality.
All white furniture while her bedding is light grey. There are white, sheer curtains on the windows, giving her privacy but also making it so one can still see the outline of the sky and streetlights.
It has a cozy feel to it, but I can also tell it’s Genevieve’s room from how crisp and clean it is.
I look back toward her, and before I can think any more about it, I quickly say, “I’m going back to London.”
She laughs. “I know that already.”
“Today,” I clarify, making her eyebrows knit together, perplexed. “I’m going back to London today, Genevieve.”
“What?” I shake my head in confusion, hoping I’m misunderstanding. “When are you coming back?”
The new semester starts tomorrow, he can’t be gone too long.
“I’m not,” he responds. “I was given the option to go back to London to finish school, and I’ve decided that it’s the best thing for me to do.”
“So, that’s it?” I ask. “You were given the option and you’re leaving for good?”
“I’m sorry, Genova,” he sighs, his voice full of remorse.
I can feel my metaphorical heart—the one Jameson forced me to use the night of the party—completely shatter within me.
I turn in the opposite direction, facing the window that overlooks the front yard and walking toward it, holding onto the windowsill.
“Fuck you.”He’s quick to follow, taking a step toward me. “Absolutely fuck you, Jameson,” I spit. “You think this is fair to me?”
“No, of course not.” He reaches for me, but I flinch away.
Against my greatest wishes, tears well uncontrollably in my eyes. The only thing worse than crying over Jameson Beaumont is doing it right in front of him.
“You are such a…” I trip over my words in anger. “Jerk!” I turn back, punching him in the shoulder as hard as I can. He barely moves, only losing his balance for a moment.
I take a step forward at him, deciding to take more punches toward his chest this time. “You’re an asshole!” Punch. “I can’t stand you!” Punch. “Why would you do this to me?” Punch.
I break, my knees buckling under me, almost sending me tumbling to the floor of my bedroom if it wasn’t for two arms catching me mid-fall.Tears are now free falling, and I can barely control my sobs as he pulls me closer.
My arms are still attempting to flail at him, but he holds them steady.
“Get off me!” I try to push away from him. “I don’t need you.”
“But you need someone,” he amends.
“Not you.” I try to back away again, but his grip is stronger than I thought it would be.
“Stop, Genevieve.”
For once, I listen.
I stop moving, letting my body completely relax into him for a moment too long. It’s tortuous that this feels nice.
“I-I can’t.” I pull away from him, backing up again. “I’ve known who you were for quite a while now, and part of me hoped you’d prove me wrong, but I know that you’re incapable of doing that. You are who you are, nothing will change that.”
“Genevieve,” he tries to say, but my back is already to him.
“You’re the same person who came to Fairwood to take my Valedictorian position, and the second I stop hating you, you do this to me.” That’s when I see that Logan’s car is in my driveway. “I think you should go.”
I don’t mean it, I know Jameson is not the person I first thought he was, but the pain in my chest forces me to say something in retaliation, to hurt him the way he’s hurting me.
“Genova—” The nickname makes my head spin.
“Jameson.” I cut him off. “You’ve done enough.”