“Gen needed me today, so I was there for her, but just as a friend.”
“It’s no use, Peter. She laid claim to you a long time ago, and there’s just no room for me here.” My eyesight is going fuzzy with tears. I wipe my eyes with my jacket sleeve. I can’t be here anymore, around him. It’s hurting me too much to look at his face. “I deserve better than that, you know? I deserve . . . I deserve to be someone’s number one girl.”
“You are.”
“No, I’m not. She is. You’re still protecting her, her secret, whatever that is. From what, though? From me? What have I ever done to her?”
He spreads his hands helplessly. “You took me away from her. You became my most important person.”
“But I’m not, though. That’s the thing. She is.” He sputters and tries to deny it, but there’s no use. How could I believe him when the truth is right in front of me? “You know how I know she’s your most important person? You pick her every time.”
“That’s bullshit!” he explodes. “When I found out she took that video, I told her that if she ever hurt you again, we were done.” Peter’s still talking, but I don’t hear anything more that comes out of his mouth.
He knew.
He knew it was Genevieve who posted that video; he knew and he never told me.
Peter isn’t talking anymore; he’s peering at me. “Lara Jean? What’s the matter?”
“You knew?”
His face goes gray. “No! It’s not like how you think. I haven’t known this whole time.”
I wet my lips and press them together. “So at some point you found out the truth, and you didn’t tell me.” It’s hard to breathe. “You knew how upset I was, and you kept defending her, and then you found out the truth, and you never told me.”
Peter starts talking very fast. “Let me explain it. It’s only recently I found out Gen was behind the video. I asked her about it, and she broke down and admitted everything to me. That night at the ski trip, she saw us in the hot tub; she took the video. She’s the one who sent it to Anonybitch and played it at the assembly.”
I knew it, and I let myself go along with Peter and pretend not to know what I knew. And for what? For him?
“She’s been really fucked up over stuff she’s going through with her family, and she was jealous, and she took it out on you and me—”
“Like what? What is she going through?” I don’t ask expecting an answer; I know he won’t tell me. I’m asking to prove a point.
He looks pained. “You know I can’t tell you. Why do you keep putting me in a position where I have to say no to you?”
“You put yourself in that position. You have her name, don’t you? In the game, you have her name and she has mine.”
“Who cares about the stupid game? Covey, we’re talking about us.”
“I care about the stupid game.” Peter is loyal to her first, me second. It’s first Genevieve, then me. That is the deal. That’s always been the deal. And I’m sick of it. Something clicks in my head. Suddenly I ask him, “Why was Genevieve outside that night at the ski trip? All of her friends were in the lodge.”
Peter closes his eyes briefly. “Why does it matter?”
I think back to that night in the woods. How he looked surprised to see me. Startled, even. He wasn’t waiting for me. He was waiting for her. He still is. “If I hadn’t gone out to apologize that night, would you have kissed her?”
He doesn’t answer right away. “I don’t know.”
Those three words confirm everything for me. They take my breath away. “If I win . . . do you know what I would wish for?” Don’t say it, don’t say it. Don’t say the thing you can’t take back. “I’d wish we never started any of this.” The words echo in my head, in the air.
He sucks in his breath. His eyes get small; so does his mouth. I’ve hurt him. Is that what I wanted? I thought so, but now, looking at his face, I’m not sure. “You don’t have to win the game to have that, Covey. You can have that right now if you want it.”
I reach out, put both hands on his chest. My eyes fill. “You’re out. Who do you have?” I already know the answer.
“Genevieve.”
I stand up. “Bye, Peter.” And then I walk into my house and shut the door. I don’t look back, not once.
We broke so easily. Like it was nothing. Like we were nothing. Does that mean it was never meant to be in the first place? That we were an accident of fate? If we were meant to be, how could we both walk away just like that?
I guess the answer is, we weren’t.
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