Page 150 of The Revenge Game
How will he react to me? What will he say?
I’ve put my heart on the line. I’ve told him exactly how I feel.
I’ve done everything I can.
If he refuses to speak to me, if he walks away tonight, my revenge plan will have managed to turn Teenage Andrew’s worst moments into something even more painful.
Justin’s rejection of me now will be infinitely worse than his treatment of me in high school. Because Justin knows the real me. Not the scared kid from high school, not the successful tech entrepreneur, but the person who finally learned how to be authentic through pretending to be someone else.
But before I can spot Justin, I hear another voice that causes my stomach to plummet.
“Holy shit, is that Andrew Yates?”
Connor Martinez’s voice carries across the gymnasium floor with the same subtle grace he used to demonstrate while “accidentally” checking people into lockers. He’s headed my way with Tad in tow, both of them wearing expressions that suggest they’ve just discovered their high school punching bag is actually Bruce Wayne.
“So it turns out the geek really did inherit the earth,” Tad says.
“And several Silicon Valley zip codes,” Connor adds, attempting what I assume is supposed to be a friendly smile but looks more like someone experiencing minor dental distress.
I adjust my glasses, which are the same frames I wore as Drew Smith because somewhere between pretending to be someone else and falling in love with Justin, they became part of who I actually am.
“Connor. Tad.” I’m pleased to find my voice comes out steady, even slightly amused. “I see you still come as a matched set.”
Connor’s face performs complicated gymnastics as he tries to navigate this new dynamic where I’m apparently someone worth impressing.
“Listen, about high school… No hard feelings, right? We were just kids being stupid.”
“Well, you definitely achieved stupidity to a high degree, so congratulations.”
Tad actually laughs at that before catching himself. The sound seems to startle him as much as it does Connor.
I open my mouth to continue but then stop myself. After all, didn’t Justin teach me that everyone’s story is more complicated than it appears from the outside?
Even the villains in our personal narratives have their own chapters we never got to read.
And when I turn slightly, my breath rushes out of me. Suddenly, Connor and Tad in front of me cease to matter.
Because I’ve just spotted Justin.
My mouth goes dry and my feet feel like they’ve glued themselves to the floor.
He’s standing near the makeshift stage, talking to Vincent Perez who was his vice president. He’s wearing charcoal dress pants and a cream-colored sweater over a collared shirt.
Oh my god, I love him so much. I want nothing more than to wrap him in my arms and press my face into that spot where his neck meets his shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne until the rest of the world fades away.
And then he sees me.
Our gazes lock across the room, and suddenly, I’m drowning in blue-green, searching desperately for any hint of the warmth that used to live there.
But Justin’s face is written in a code I can’t crack anymore. It’s carefully neutral in a way that makes my stomach twist.
I’ve never felt more lost while looking at something so familiar. My heart ricochets around my chest like a pinball caught in an endless game, racking up points of pain with each bounce.
The screech of microphone feedback cuts through the gymnasium like a startled cat, making everyone wince and temporarily breaking Justin’s gaze on mine.
Maddie’s standing at the microphone on the stage, frantically adjusting herClass of 2015sash that keeps sliding off one shoulder like it’s trying to escape the reunion entirely.
“Hey, everyone,” she says in her pert, upbeat cheerleader voice. “We’re about to kick off the formalities, so if y’all could just gather around.”
