Page 76 of Things I Wish I Said
Love is a fairy tale, I remind myself. Fiction.
Eventually everyone leaves.
One way or the other, love has an expiration date, and maybe some people can handle that, but I can’t. The only thing I can offer Sinclair is physical, and she deserves a hell of a lot more than that.
I swallow, forcing a smile as I drop my hand.
How many times will I have to stop myself from touching her?
“You know, I think Cameron has a bit of a crush.”
“What?” She shakes her head, clearly confused by the change in subject.
“Yeah. My best friend? Pretty sure he’s into you.”
“You don’t know that.” She turns and stares out her window.
“He was going to give you a ride home,” I point out.
“I asked. He was just being nice.”
Her voice is short, clipped as though she’s angry at me, and I frown, unsure why.
“He definitely wasn’t just being nice,” I say.
“How do you know?” She glances at me again, a brow arched in challenge.
“Trust me. I’m a guy. I know.”
And he so much as told me.
“And you think . . . I should go for it?”
I think of Ryleigh standing her ground to Dustin. How strong she looked as she blocked him from Bridgette. Maybe she was stupid to interfere, but Ryleigh Sinclair is fucking brave. Strong.
I’ve never met anyone like her.
My chest constricts as I think of my answer. “You could do a lot worse.”
She drops her gaze, the long strands of her wig blocking her face from view.
“What?” I ask, fighting the urge to put my hands on her again, to tip her chin so her eyes meet mine, so she can’t hide.
“Nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” I say, my tone soft. “What are you thinking?”
“It’s just, I’m not exactly a catch, Grayson.”
Pain harpoons inside my chest. “Bullshit.”
She lifts her head, rolling her eyes. “I don’t need to look in the mirror to know I’m no longer pretty like other girls. I have chemo face. No hair. My lips and skin are dry from treatment, not supple or smooth like Hannah’s. The only thing I still have going for me is my figure.”
I frown. “What does Hannah have to do with anything?” I ask, ignoring the rest.
If Hannah was mean to her, I swear, I’ll make her life a living hell . . .
“I have no future. No prospects. I’m not going to school, at least for the foreseeable future,” she continues, ignoring my question. “I have a scar on my back from surgery that looks like a freaking shark bite. I don’t even have any hobbies, for God’s sake, and on a bad day, a flight of stairs leaves me winded.” She throws her hands up. “I have to be the most boring person on the face of the planet, and my two closest friends? Yeah, turns out they were really just soccer friends and they’ve already moved on. I have literally nothing to offer.”
