Page 8 of Besties
No, I wasn’t. Richie had been right. My mom loved me unconditionally, but again, she was one of two people in the world I couldn’t stand to disappoint.
“I’ll hear it in her voice, you know.” I bent over, my head in my hands. “She’ll be sympathetic, but there’s going to be a note of pity, which is going to remind me of how badly I screwed up.”
“Stop that!” When I looked up, Richie pinned me with a harsh glare, his eyes glinting in the light. “I’m sick to death of you trying to put this—anyof this—on yourself. Did you make him sell drugs? No. Did you make him treat you like shit? No. Tell me one damn thing you did wrong.”
I pushed up off the couch and stormed toward Richie. “I trusted him. I thought I loved him. If it isn’t my fault, then whose is it?” I snarled.
“His,” Richie replied quietly. He reached out and took my hand, which disappeared into his much larger mitt. “He played on your emotions, that’s it. You’re a good man, and he used that against you.”
“So basically, because I was stupid, this is his fault.”
“Oh my God! I just can’t with you.” He glared down at me, then pulled me into a fierce hug. The warmth of his body seeped into mine and replaced the anger I’d been holding on to since the night the cops arrested us. “Not. Your. Fault. Get it through your head. You’ve got a good heart, and you want people to like you. That’s not wrong.”
“I don’t care if people like me.”
He leaned back, a grin on his face. “Liar.”
I put my hands on his shoulders and pushed away. “What the hell does that mean?”
Cocking his head, he gave me a curious look. “You really believe that?”
“Yeah, because it’s the truth. The only people whose opinion of me matters are my mom, your parents, and you.”
“Aw, that’s nice of you to say, but we both know it’s not the truth. You’ve always wanted people to like you. You did your best to fit in with everyone else. You dressed like them, talked like them, and everything. When one thing wouldn’t work, you’d try another. You tried to be the class clown, the brain—my position, by the way—but when you started with soccer, you finally found your niche.”
What the hell was he saying? “That’s bullshit.” I went and sat on the chair beside the sofa.
“It’s really not.” He stepped over to the couch and took a seat next to me. “When your dad left, you were desperate for someone—anyone—to like you. It broke my heart to see you so unsure of yourself. The thing was, no one could talk to you. You had it in your head that you weren’t worthy of being cared for by anyone, including me. Even when someone did like you, deep down you were sure they didn’t and would abandon you, just like he’d done.”
I sat quietly for a few moments, thinking about what he’d said. Had I really done that? Was there a time when I thought I wasn’t deserving of Richie’s friendship?
Jesse’s face pushed into my memories. So did the last words he said to me. His face was twisted in anger as the police told me I could leave. He leaned over and spit at me, just missing me and splatting on the floor. “You really think I ever loved you? You’re pathetic! No one is ever going to care about you. You’re just a tiny little pile of nothing.”
I’d stumbled out of the police station with those words echoing in my head.
And I’d believed them.
Then I realized I’d believed those things my whole life. Pain and regret tore through me. It was true. I never felt like I was worth anything to people.
A warm hand slid over my leg. “Stop thinking like that.”
I pulled away from him. “Like what?”
“Like you’re hurting on the inside. Remember I told you, we were going to make this right, and I meant it.”
And for the first time, I thought maybe he might.
Chapter3
“So he’s in jail?”
“Yeah.”
Mom grumbled. “And you didn’t call me? What the hell?” Her voice softened. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Richie stepped into the other room, leaving me alone. I found myself wishing he’d stayed, because… just because.
“You told me you didn’t like him, and you were right. I should have listened to you.”
