That night, Bo drives me home in silence.
I’m halfway up the driveway when I hear his door slam shut as he says, “I wish you would give me an answer.” He circles around the front of his truck.
“What?” I walk back toward him. “We have to do this tonight?”
“I want to be with you,” he says. “But I can’t if you won’t let me.”
“Why?” I drop my bag in the driveway. “Why do you want to be with this?” I wave my arm up and down the length of my body. Immediately, I hate myself for this. The only person making this about my body is me.
“Because I like you. I think I might feel a lot more than that for you, Willowdean. How is that so hard to believe? When I can’t fall asleep at night it’s not because of work or school or Amber or Bekah. It’s you. You’re the one that drives me crazy.”
I shake my head because it makes no sense. “Have you ever thought about what people will think? What they’ll say when they see us together holding hands?”
“You never struck me as the type to give a shit what everyone else thinks.” His jaw twitches for a moment before he lowers his voice and says, “I want to go everywhere with you. I want to show you off. I want to wear a cheap suit and be your escort for that ridiculous pageant.”
My teeth chatter. I’m trying so, so hard not to cry. Because it’s all there. I like him. He likes me. But there’s so much more. I can’t believe it even matters to me, but I’m not going to be skinny anytime soon, and I shouldn’t care. I’m pissed that I didn’t just throw myself at him right here in my driveway.
But I refuse to hate him for being another reason for people to whisper about me. “I can’t. That might make me a coward, but . . .” The tears are more than a threat now.
He meets me where I am, and because of the downward tilt of the driveway, we are toe to toe, nose to nose. “Willowdean Opal Dickson, you are beautiful. Fuck anyone who’s ever made you feel anything less.” His chest heaves. “When I close my eyes, I see you. I can talk to you. In a way I never have with anyone else.”
Beautiful, he says. Fat, I think. But can’t I be both at the same time? I lift my hand to his cheek, and the tension bubbling beneath his skin eases. I kiss him once more on the lips. I linger there for a moment, remembering all the details of everything I shouldn’t be allowed to have. “I can’t,” I whisper, knowing that I’m talking about so much more than just me and Bo.
I turn around and pick up my bag.
He stands in the driveway until I switch my bedroom light off, turning my house into a dark shell.
FIFTY-THREE
On Monday, as I’m walking out of class, Mitch reaches for my elbow. Mr. Krispin has already run off for the teachers’ lounge, and everyone’s cleared out. It’s just us.
“I wanted to say that I don’t think I should be your escort for the pageant.”
I look up at him, but he only lets our eyes meet for a second before looking away. “I’m not doing the pageant anyway.” I hadn’t said it out loud until this very moment, but I made my decision on Saturday night, standing in my driveway with Bo.
I can see his thoughts moving across his features. Thoughts of him trying to convince me. Telling me about the bright side. But he says nothing.
“And I’m sorry,” I add much too late. “I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”
“But you like him?”
I nod.
“I’m sorry doesn’t make it better,” he says. “I would’ve been really good to you.”
“More than I deserve.”
I want to tell him how close he’d come, and that had I never met Bo, he’d be it. But I met Bo, and now I know what it feels like for one person’s name to wreck you.
He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jacket and walks out.
I give him a few seconds’ head start before I leave for my class on the other side of campus.