“Ophelia,” Talia says gently, pulling on my shoulder until I turn around.
How is it that even in awful hallway lighting, she still manages to glow like this? Her pupils are wide, taking up most of her already dark irises, and I want, more than anything else, to taste her mouth again.
“I don’t know why you care so much,” I say. “You’ve got Zaq now; you don’t need me.”
“I always had Zaq,” she says like a swift kick to my gut. “This whole time we were friends, I had Zaq.” I fight the urge to vomit. “And regardless, you’re not replaceable. You’re one of my best friends now.”
“No, I’m the girl who fooled herself into thinking—” I cut myself off.
“Into thinking what?” Talia coaxes me, resting her hand gently on my forearm. I look at where her skin touches mine, and instead of calming down, I see red.
Every moment between us becomes strikingly clear. Her unzipping my dress and helping me when I lost my balance hiking and following me inside Wes’s house and coming to me for help with Dani. Lindsay’s party. Everything I feared romanticizing, every sign I read so horrifically wrong. The rose-tinted glass shatters.
I shake myself loose of her touch. “Nothing. Just typical Ophelia bullshit.”
“Like going to prom with Lucas?” She looks behind me.
“Wait, you’re going to prom with Lucas now?” I follow her gaze to see Wesley, looking disappointedly down at me. “I was going to ask you to be my date…”
“What?” Talia and I say at the same time. Given that she knows nothing about Wesley’s and my ditch-day bonding session yesterday, she’s probably even more confused than I am.
“I was thinking about it last night. I don’t know; it makes sense. Sammie can take Lindsay, and”—he pauses to look at Talia for a second, something unspoken about her and Zaq lingering in the air—“and you won’t have to go alone. Everyone wins.” He shrugs but doesn’t look me in the eye.
“Okay, let’s unpack this.” I tick off on my fingers, “One: Everyone wouldn’t win because Agatha would still be going solo, I’d be going with a pity date, and you’d be going with me instead of Lindsay. Which brings me to point two: You’ve been in love with her for months and already drew that lovely illustration, so I’m not letting you throw away your chance to finally be with her just so the guy who’s mocked you nearly every day since you transferred to this school can date her.”
“You know you’re talking about your best friend, right?” he interjects, and Talia laughs, reminding me we have an audience.
“I have more than one, it’s fine. Point is, I don’t need you missing out on your high school fantasy on my conscience. And, again, I already agreed to go with Lucas.” I look down at my hands. “I think that’s point number three.”
“Which is still a bad idea,” Talia says, stepping closer to me again.
“I’m done talking about this,” I finally snap at her. “Who I do or don’t date is none of your concern. I’ve done a perfectly fine job failing at love for the past seventeen years on my own, thank you very much.”
“He doesn’t deserve you, and you know it,” she says before quietly adding, “Don’t go with him just to prove a point.” She walks away, shaking her head. I swallow the burst of anger and let it simmer in my stomach before turning back to Wesley.
He lifts a brow at me. “Did she really deserve that?”
“I don’t have the energy for a moral dilemma right now. Let’s just focus on the positive: You got out of taking me to prom!”
He smiles at the ground, visibly relieved, which I try not to be offended by. Until a familiar shadow falls over us.
“What?” a voice behind me says, calm and full of rage all at once.
I turn around slowly to see Lindsay and Agatha standing side by side, books in their hands and shock on their faces. Shit.
“Oh hey, guys! Love the butterfly clips, Ags,” I say, pointing to the twin pink plastic butterflies pinning back sections of her Afro.
“Did you just say Wesley got out of being your date?” Lindsay asks. I have to force my eyes to meet hers. Her normally soft green irises are seething, the white around them turning pink.
“No! Oh no, no, you misheard all that.” I wave vaguely at Wesley. “I’m going with Lucas.”
“You’re what?” Ags asks.
“But you just said—and I thought we were—” Lindsay starts, facing Wesley, but her voice trails off as Sammie comes over.
His long, easy steps show he has no idea what he’s walking into. “O, you can start walking your ass to school if you’re going to keep ditching me in the parking lot.”
“You thought we were what?” Wes asks Lindsay, ignoring Sammie. Pride surges through me as he straightens under her angry gaze.
Sammie looks between the two of them, cocking his head to Agatha as if to ask her what’s going on. But she stays frozen, watching the awkward confrontation unfold. My Ags, queen of gossip and drama, looking at the mess I caused with nothing but sad confusion in her eyes.
“Just—what is going on here, Ophelia?” Lindsay turns to me, abandoning her face-off with Wesley. Her pale, freckled face is flushed with anger. I take a hesitant step backward, nearly onto Wesley’s foot.
“Nothing! Nothing is going on. I’m going to prom with Lucas! Woo!” My empty cheers land flatly. I scramble. “And you! You’re going with…” Yikes. Wrong direction, abort mission.
“You’re going where with whomst?” Sammie butts in, but Lindsay and I both ignore him.
“Weird you two both magically disappeared after lunch yesterday,” she says, eyes narrowed and flashing between me and Wesley. “Even weirder that now it sounds an awful lot like you’re turning him down as a prom date. Care to explain?”
“Wait.” Sammie finally pushes his way between all of us, leaving Ags alone on the outskirts. “So there is something going on between you two? I knew it!”
“You knew something was going on between them?” Lindsay demands.
Sammie waves her off. “You got so pissed at me for just asking about you two.”
“That’s not why I was pissed,” I insist, but neither he nor Lindsay is listening anymore.
“I’m not shocked you have a thing for Wes given your history, but you could’ve at least talked to me about it instead of going after him behind my back,” Lindsay spits out.
I can’t help it. I laugh. “My history? God, hypocrite much? And I’m sure you would’ve been totally cool with me liking Wesley.”
“So you admit you have a thing for him?” Lindsay asks. Her face is turning as red as her hair.
“No!” I laugh more, bitterly now. “I don’t have a thing for Wes.” She flinches at my use of his nickname.