“Thanks, Nadine.” Gah. She really, really shouldn’t have liked me.
She smiled and left the room.
James popped into my room next, closing the door behind him. “Hey,” he said. His hands were stuffed in his jeans pockets as he swayed back and forth. “Sorry about showing up tonight, but Mike kept begging Nadine and me to come over. I didn’t want things to seem weird, so I thought I should come.”
“It was weird. It is weird.”
He sighed. “We should talk.”
“About?”
“Your brother said you were keeping the baby. Is that true?” he asked sheepishly.
My jaw tightened, and I dug the palms of my hands into the side of my mattress. “You told me you two broke up because she was treating you terribly. You said you two were going different ways in life.”
“We were…” His head hung low like a puppy caught destroying a cushion.
“You left out the fact that she was pregnant.”
“Aria—”
“You came into my room and you told me how Nadine treated you like garbage. You built her up to be this monster. You said you always liked me. You ran your hands through my hair calling it beautiful. You called me cute and touched me, kissing my neck, my stomach. Then tonight I find out that your girlfriend never treated you like crap. She loved you. She loves you.”
“I was in a bad place that night,” he whispered, still not looking at me.
“You told me how you cared about me. Was that all crap just to sleep with me?”
“No. Of course I care about you, Aria. You’re my best friend’s kid sister.” Kid sister. Ouch. “That night Mike and I’d been drinking. I’m not proud of it or anything and I never meant to hurt you.”
Hurt me? “James you screwed me and got me knocked up. Then for weeks you pretended like you never slept with me, and got back together with Nadine—you know, the other girl you screwed and got knocked up. You honestly have the most determined sperm in the history of sperm.”
He didn’t reply. I hated that he blamed it on alcohol. I hated that the reason he really broke things off with Nadine was because she wanted to keep the baby. I hated that he was able to walk around school with no one knowing the truth of what we did.
It wasn’t fair.
“What’s the deal with you and Levi Myers?” he asked out of nowhere. “Are you two a thing or something?”
A thing?
Me and Levi?
I didn’t reply, because what right did he have to ask me that question?
James and I were in completely different situations, even though we equally played a part in the pregnancy. No one was vandalizing his locker at school. No one was calling him a whore. He was pretty much known as a god at Mayfair Heights.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, shaking his head. “There’s something about the guy that I don’t like. You shouldn’t hang out with him. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
I chuckled.
That’s funny.
“You can leave now, James. And congratulations on the free ride to Duke. You’re going to make a fantastic blue devil.”
* * *
On Monday, Levi and I spent the whole eighth period arguing over what our final project should be. It took everything in my power to not think about Sunday dinner and how James felt the need to tell me who I should and shouldn’t hang out with. But Levi made that easier. He made it easier not to care anything about James. At least for a few hours he helped me forget.
“You should really check out those books at the library that I told you about,” I said, walking out of the classroom at the final bell.
“Okay. Want to go now?”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “I’ve already seen the books, and I understand the importance of abstract art and how it’s life-changing. I need you to realize it so I can start plotting out what three pieces I want to create for the final. Then you can start creating some kind of music piece to go with it.”
“So, we’ll meet at the library in about an hour?” he asked.
“Levi,” I sighed. “You’re doing that thing where you annoy me again.” Not really. I like it. “But if you really need me there to walk you through it, I guess that’s fine.”
“Okay. So we’ll meet in an hour or so at the library. It’s a date.”
“It’s a meeting,” I corrected.
“It’s a date-meeting.”
“It’s a meeting,” I said once more.
“It’s a meeting of dates,” he echoed, walking off.
I bit my bottom lip and tried to slow down my quickening heartbeat. It’s a date.
* * *
On the bus ride home I sat next to Simon, who was still in a terrible mood. He had been for weeks now ever since he spilled the juice. I knew there was more to his story than he was telling me as he stared out of the window.