Page 91 of What I Like About You

“Kels,” I say.

Me, I don’t say.

“I just—I can’t explain it, okay?” Nash says. “I amsosorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” I say. It comes off sharper than I intend it to.

“I think I might love her. Maybe,” Nash says.

“You don’t even know her,” I say.

If you did, Nash, you’d know she’s me.

Nash shrugs. “I don’t expect you to get it. No one does.”

I want to scream that I’m the only one whowouldget it. The whole stupid truth, but it’s too late. The magic of the sunrise has faded into the typical morning sky. Reality punches me in the stomach. He doesn’t likeme, Halle. Not like Kels. I was right this whole time.

“Can you just take me home?” I ask.

“Halle—”

“Don’t.”

We drive back toward Middleton through the morning haze, the sunrise in the rearview.

Nash’s fingers fumble through the radio stations, unable to settle on a song.

I close my eyes because I can feel it coming, the panic that starts in my stomach and rises up through me. I hear Ollie’s voice in my head telling me tobreathe, imagine the pressure of his hand.You will not cry in front of Nash right now. You willnotcry in front of Nash.He thinks I’m embarrassed or hurt or whatever because he rejected me. But really, I feel sostupid.Stupid for thinking I could split myself like this. Stupid for romanticizing sunrises. Stupid for thinking anyone would like me as much as they like Kels.

Stupid for thinking that I, Halle, could just be Nash’s friend.

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