“It never came up.” He nuzzles the nape of my neck. His nose presses through the wisps of hair fallen from my ponytail. “Don’t be mad.”
“I—I can’t talk about this right now.” I don’t even know how to talk to him. Not without our lips pressed together.
He kisses my neck, the soft patch of skin south of my ear.
“Please. Please stop.” I yank my hand free and press the boxes of napkins, utensils, and condiments close to my chest and brush past him.
“Willowdean.”
I want to take back my name. I want to erase that moment when we first kissed and he took it and made it his.
“Come on,” he says, a little too quietly, like he’s resigned himself to losing a fight that hasn’t even begun.
At the end of the night, I start refilling the salt and pepper shakers. The bell above the door dings, so I let Marcus take it. “Hey,” he calls. “Bo, your boy is here.”
I peer around the corner to see Collin, the same guy who visited Bo at the beginning of the summer.
“What do you want, man?” asks Bo. He looks exhausted, with dark circles weighing under his eyes.
Collin grins. “Checking in on my old buddy. It won’t be the same at Holy Cross without you.”
“You’ll survive,” says Bo.
“Speaking of, Amber says hi. She’s doing a lot better. Some distance did her good.” Collin shrugs. “A few distractions didn’t hurt.”
“Good for her,” Bo says through his teeth.
“You should come by the courts one night. Hang out on the sidelines or something.”
Something tickles my hand. I look down to see I’ve poured salt all over the table. “Shit.”
Both of them turn to me.
Collin smiles. “Ah, I remember you. What was your name again?”
I open my mouth to answer, but—
“Will. Her name’s Will,” says Bo.
It cuts so deep to hear him call me anything but Willowdean. I leave the salt and pepper there on the counter, and head back through the kitchen to grab the trash. Footsteps follow me.
“Please talk to me,” Bo says.
I push through the back door without answering him. Reaching up for the tall Dumpster, I try flipping the lid one, two, three times. He reaches over me and opens the thing on one try.
“We need to talk.” He takes the bags from my clenched fists and vaults them over the top.
I drag my sweating palms down my thighs. “About what? How about that girl? Huh? What was I? Your summer rebound?”
He takes a step toward me and I nearly take a step back to restore the balance, but I’m not willing to show any ounce of weakness.
“You weren’t a rebound, okay? That’s not what this was. Is. What this is.” His voice drops an octave. “But it’s not like our relationship is based on communication.”
“You could have at least told me you weren’t going back to Holy Cross.”
He’s quiet for a minute, and I take his silence as a concession.
“Why wouldn’t you tell me that, Bo? What? Were you hoping I wouldn’t notice?”
“No, it’s just—”
“It doesn’t matter.” I sigh. “What are we even arguing over? We make out behind the Dumpster and in an old parking lot. That doesn’t really seem like anything worth arguing for.”
And then there’s the way everything in me turns to shit every time he puts his hands on me. Like, I’m not good enough. Not pretty enough. Not thin enough.
“I used to think that you were misunderstood. That people didn’t get you. But I was wrong. You’re a real jerk, Bo Larson.” I take a step back now, loosening the line between us that’s held us taut all summer. I wish I could tell Ellen about this. “And I’m done being your secret.”
SEVENTEEN
I barely even glance at my schedule before the first day of school.
I wait outside of second period for El. It’s the only class we have in common this semester. The second bell rings, and I’m about to go inside without her when I see her sprinting down the hallway toward me with Tim at her heels.
“So sorry!” she breathes. Tim squeezes her hand as he runs past her and on to his next class.
“What were you even doing?”