Page 72 of Fade into You
And he’s right, in a way. I haven’t been kind to Kayla, I have been fucking with his relationship, and the way he says it, I really feel like a jerk.
“I’m sorry, Dade.” Have I been doing the wrong thing the whole time?
“Was Bird in on this crap too?”
“No. Just me.” There’s one lie I can tell without it seeming lame.
He looks out at the trees beyond us, the bright reds and yellows of fall almost gone. Bare, dead-looking branches clawing upward. “I think we need a break, Jessa. I think I need to focus on Kayla and give you some time to figure yourself out.”
The statement hits me like a punch. I don’t know where to go with it, don’t know what to say to make it stop. I’m in the house I built and it’s burning because of the very fire I started.
“How long?”
“I don’t fucking know, Jessa,” he says.
“What about today? Are we still hanging out today?” It’s desperate and sad, but I hope for a second that I can have even an afternoon to try and show why I’m still a good friend after so much fuckery.
“You gotta give me time, Jessa,” he says, and walks back inside.
I don’t have a damned thing left to say.
BIRD
I wish I hadn’t promisedJessa that we could keep this all on the down-low. Because, god, the way my heart is hammering, and my face will not stop smiling, and I keep getting this leaping feeling in my stomach—it’s all making me want to dance down the halls. I want to sing about it and jump on my desk and shout for everyone to hear how ridiculously giddy I feel, knowing that after the bell rings in only two minutes and forty-three seconds I get to see my girlfriend.
Girlfriend.
Everyone needs to know how amazing I feel.
She’s waiting for me at my locker when I get there. “Hi,” she says, smiling and looking down at her feet.
“Hi,” I echo, and even though I’m stupid excited to see her after existing in her absence for the past three hours since journalism, I keep an arm’s length from her and make sure I’m not showing my excitement.
It takes me three tries to enter my combination because I keep getting distracted by the way she’s standing there. Her backagainst the locker next to mine, one knee bent, with the bottom of her boot perched on the wall.
“So,” she begins quietly, only meeting my eye for a second while I gather my books. “What do you wanna do right now?”
“Bad news. I didn’t get a chance to tell you earlier, but I’m supposed to be babysitting the twins after school today.”
“Oh,” she mutters, and even though she’s also trying to hide her emotions, I can see disappointment etched all over her face.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
She shrugs and pushes herself off the locker, shoving her hands into her pockets. “No worries. Want a ride home, at least?”
“Yes, please.”
We make it to her car, and as we close the doors on the outside world, it feels like we’re entering our own private protective bubble of metal and glass. On autopilot I lean across the console, my hands reaching for her.
“Bird!” she snaps, backing up against the door and whipping her head around in all directions with this wild look in her eyes. “People…” is all she says, gesturing to the outside.
“Sorry, I forgot f-for a-a sec-second.”
“We have to be careful,” she says, her voice still sharp.
“I’m s-sorry; I was just happy to f-finally be alone with you, I just forgot.”
“It’s okay,” she mumbles absently, inspecting her rearview mirror. “I don’t think anyone saw.”
