Jaime was my anchor now. I had no one to trust but him.
A few minutes after he left, I walked to the teacher’s lot and waited by my car, chewing on my nails. I was supposed to teach a class but had been excused for the rest of the day. I hated waiting for the verdict, for Jaime to try and persuade his mom not to frame me for something we all knew I didn’t do.
Ten minutes after he walked into her office, my cell phone buzzed.
“Join us,” he commanded, in a tone I couldn’t decode.
I did.
My knees wobbled and my breath sputtered as I walked the hallways of All Saints for what I had a feeling would be the last time. I knocked on Followhill’s door and marched in.
“Come.” Jaime patted a spot on the burgundy leather sofa beside him, his eyes hard on his mom. He was sitting in front of her, and it looked like her desk was the only thing keeping them from pouncing at each other. The air was thick with revulsion.
Jaime’s expression was frustratingly blank. When I tried to read his mother’s face, I didn’t see love or compassion, either. Just disappointment…and urgency. Urgency to keep a legacy, to protect her family name. To keep the pride, money, and a lot of other tasteless shit in order.
My insides lurched, and for the first time, I realized I wasn’t the only one who’d suffered destiny’s wounds.
Just because Jaime didn’t act like he’d been ripped to shreds didn’t mean he was any happier than I was. No. We were both defective, chipped, and programmed to fight back. Sculpted by our fate. Scarred by who we were.
I was a dancer trapped in a teacher’s life.
He was a free man imprisoned in his parents’ ridiculous demands and great expectations.
I slouched next to Jaime, blinking away some of my shock. Fuck my life. Principal Miranda Followhill was the one in the wrong. But I did feel shame for caving into this affair with her son.
Shame over who I fell in love with.
Because that was the problem with society. It cared too much about who you fell in love with but never about the why. The why matters. The who is irrelevant (but the band was great, so there’s that).
“We’ve reached an agreement.” Mrs. Followhill’s face tightened into a thin-lipped smile.
This didn’t sound good. I nodded. Barely.
“And I think everyone shall benefit from this little arrangement.”
Another beat of silence.
“Are you planning on announcing it at the LA Coliseum? Spit it out.” I was no longer able to hide my true feelings for the woman.
Jaime snickered beside me, grabbing my hand and squeezing, his warmth seeping into me.
Mrs. Followhill scowled, unimpressed by my sass. “Jaime is going to move to Texas for college. In fact, he re-confirmed his attendance minutes ago on the phone with his dean. You will be let go after this school year. Your contract will not be renewed. You will not see each other anymore. In exchange, I will overlook the necklace found at the marina.”
Her grin was victorious.
Yet all I saw was black.
My hand slid from Jaime’s. Determined not to say anything, I fought the feeling of humiliation. He’d basically refused to fight for us, accepting her demand to go to Texas as he’d always planned. I simply shrugged. Whether he had shitty negotiation skills or he simply didn’t care about me and was just using me didn’t matter. His end game was the same. And guess who was the loser? Yup, me.
Jaime could have easily told his mother the truth. His mother protects him. From anything. I wasn’t na?ve enough to believe it was out of love. It was out of prestige and other meaningless things she cared about. Sure, she would give him hell, but she would also give him a way out.
He compromised me.
After he told me he wanted to protect me.
“Are you—have you spoken to the dean?” I jerked my head to look him in the eye. He sucked his cheeks in with a heavy sigh, nodding.
“Yeah. I’m moving to Austin.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“It does, huh?” Mrs. Followhill looked skeptical. Maybe even a little disappointed with my calmness. Her eyes glinted with ire, her lips thin and pressed together.
You can’t win if I don’t let you, I thought bitterly. And I’m not. I’m not letting you see me break.
“Yup. I mean, school’s almost over. It was a nice fling.” My lips curved into a smile, and I felt Jaime tensing beside me. I had a feeling there was a lot he wanted to explain. I wouldn’t give him the chance though.
I hated him.
I hated me.
We deserved this heartache.
I felt his fingers trying to reconnect with mine and folded my arms over my chest, leaning back. I’d suffered enough whiplash from his mother. I was not going to be humiliated twice by getting dumped by her teenage son, listening to some “It’s not you, it’s me” bullshit.
“Guess it’s time to say goodbye. I won’t miss All Saints very much. And I definitely won’t miss you, Mrs. Followhill. For a wealthy woman, your social skills are actually quite poor.”
Translation: You’re a bitch from hell, and I can’t believe I actually thought your son would grow up to be any different. He obviously takes after you, even if he made me believe that he was anything but.
With that, I stood up. Jaime’s gaze followed me, but I didn’t risk looking at him. The confusion on his face was obvious, even if our eyes hadn’t met. For the first time, I’d hurt a Followhill instead of having a Followhill hurt me. It made me feel lighter somehow, and that made me feel guilty.
Did I want Jaime to feel bad? Why?
“Melody.” Jaime’s voice was thick and dark. I shook my head.
“Let her leave, sweetheart,” Principal Followhill instructed, resting her palm on his back.
He stood, pushing his chair back abruptly.
I needed to get out of there. “Yeah.” I threw my bag over my shoulder, collecting my cell phone and keys. “We’re done here.”
I made my way out, leaving the boy-man who broke my heart and his bitchy mother behind me. He was moving to Texas. I shouldn’t have been so disappointed. I pushed him in this direction. And his mom didn’t leave us much choice. But I was hurt, so I’d stabbed him back with my words.
Jaime didn’t follow me.
We’d both fucked up and had nothing to say to each other.
That day, I cried for all the years I hadn’t cried. Buckets of tears. They were salty and sad and desperate.
They all tasted weird.
They all tasted like him.
JAIME DIDN’T COME TO OUR apartment that day. He didn’t call. Not surprising, considering I’d reduced him to a short fling. After continuously pushing him away. After telling him he should move to Texas. After bitching about his best friend.
I wasn’t a good girlfriend.
Nurturing wasn’t my nature. I was sewn together with tattered patches of consuming ambition and shattered dreams. Up until now, I had been stupidly proud of that. Proud that I didn’t let mundane things like love or a man consume me.