Page 43 of Unloved

But it’s enough for me to havethiswith her, too, to be her friend, if she’ll let me.

I make a vow then to protect her, the pretty girl with butterflies in her messy curls, even if she’ll never really bemine.

CHAPTER 16Ro

TYLER

Tonight is going to be perfect.

RO

I can’t wait for a fresh start.

My last text is left on read, unanswered for twenty minutes. My anxiety is loud and raucous in my chest as I apply two more unneeded layers of my favorite pineapple-flavored lip balm, making them overly shiny and slightly sticky.

My text remains unanswered as Liam knocks at my door and asks if he can tie the bow in my hair.

“Like I always do,” he says with a shy smile. “I’m the best at it.” Even though his words seem confident, there is a perpetual fear of rejection in everything he asks.

I’ve been sitting on the end of my bed, fully dressed and done up, for thirty minutes. I need to leave soon if I’m going to—but something is holding me back.

This feels wrong.

I can’t shake the feeling, even as I call an Uber to the restaurant.It’s not too fancy and part of a strip of restaurants in quaint downtown Waterfell, which means it’s a little far from campus. And, for a girl with an unreliable car, that’s not ideal.

I’ve been stranded more times than I can count, so rideshare has become a good friend of mine since freshman year. Sadie and I had bonded once over our car issues, and how illiterate we were when it came to anything about them. And although I knew it would take one text, onementionof an issue with my car for my parents to swoop in and save me, I’d kept my mouth shut and made do with what I had.

Stepping into the restaurant, I shiver a bit—wishing I’d opted for a cardigan to pull on over the shimmery white thin-strapped dress—and then send a quick text to Tyler to let him know I’m here. The waitress seats me by the window and offers the bread service, which I happily indulge in while I wait.

And wait.

Thirty minutes, to be exact.

The restaurant continues to fill up, a popular date spot on a Friday night in early September. Each happy couple that enters only fuels my mortification—even theunhappy ones, because at least they showed up in their misery.

I text Tyler again and again, even chancing his wrath by calling him.

No response.

Unshed tears blur my eyes as I eat my weight in bread and olive oil before asking the waitress if I can pay for my Diet Coke and leave.

She gives me a sympathetic look and a to-go order of cheesy bacon fries on the house, which only makes holding back the impending breakdown harder.

Walking on shaky legs—made worse by the strappy, impractical heels on my feet—I barely make it out of the tinted glass doors before slamming hard into someone.

“S-sorry,” I choke out, the word mushed with a sob.

“Shit,” a deep, soft voice curses before cool hands brace on the overheated skin of my biceps. “Ro?”

Matt Fredderic.

As if this couldn’t get more humiliating.

“Hey, Matt,” I murmur, attempting some sad excuse for a smile through my tears. “W-what are you doing here?”

“Ro, are you okay?”

His voice sounds more serious than I think I’ve ever heard it. He looks mildly frantic, searching around me like we’re about to be attacked.

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