“You don’t think I can be faithful to you.” He’s not asking a question. He’s just stating the obvious.
“You’ve never had a girlfriend before.” I lift my chin, trying my best to appear strong. I don’t like having him so close. Temptation sweeps over me, urging me to take another step forward and wrap my arms around him. But I fight the impulse and win. “I’m guessing there’s a reason for that.”
“Right, because I fuck every girl I see. I can’t control myself.” The lack of emotion in his voice and on his face is unnerving. When he crosses his arms, he looks intimidating. I take a step back.
“I never said that,” I start, but Ryan speaks over me.
“Come on, Amanda. Are you really going to be such a bitch?”
I turn on him, ready to tell him where to shove it, but I don’t have to.
Tuttle is on him in an instant, his hand curled into the front of Ryan’s shirt, pinning him against the metal lockers. The locks rattle and shake when Tuttle shoves him again, stepping closer so they’re in each other’s faces.
“I don’t ever want to hear you call Amanda that again.” He twists Ryan’s shirt tighter and Ryan curses under his breath. “Tell her you’re sorry.”
“Jesus, she’s treating you like crap, and you still act like this?” The locks rattle once more as Tuttle pushes Ryan yet again, and his gaze meets mine. “Fine, I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”
Tuttle lets him go with one last shove and then turns to face me. His handsome face is a mask of ferociousness, and his eyes are so hot I swear they singe my skin when he looks at me.
“You can think whatever you want,” he says between clenched teeth. “Believe what you want. You know how I feel.”
“No, I really don’t know,” I throw back at him, my voice shaky. I’m not one for violence, but watching Jordan push Ryan against the lockers in defense of me was all kinds of hot. My entire body is tingling and the urge to throw myself at him for a job well done must be some sort of instinctual reaction. “You’ve never told me.”
Our gazes lock. Never waver. Ryan and Liv slink away. A few people pass by us, but Tuttle doesn’t even notice. Neither do I.
“I thought I showed you. I thought that was good enough.” He takes a deep breath. Exhales loudly. “Guess not.”
That’s the last thing he says before he brushes past me, his shoulder bumping into mine as he goes by. I turn to watch him walk away, shocked and annoyed that he left me wanting more. Left me feeling bad, like I should chase after him, full of apologies. But I don’t. I refuse to play his head games. He’ll only end up hurting me.
Better to stay safe and alone versus getting burned.
Liv stayed after school to watch Ryan practice—gag. I’m so disappointed in her. She forgave Ryan way too easily, but she did point out yet again that maybe I was the one being stubborn.
Maybe she’s right. I don’t know, nor do I care. My decision is made. Ever since Tuttle pushed his way into my life, things haven’t been right. I know I’m the one who sort of fell on him at his party last summer after the Thad and Tara fiasco, and that really my life was thrown into complete turmoil after that unpleasant incident. Yet he’s the one who continues to confuse me. Brings drama into my life. Drama I don’t want or need.
After lunch I have AP English with Tuttle, and I sit in my usual spot at the front of the class, refusing to look back at him. My neck remains warm the entire period. I could feel his eyes on me, watching me, staring at my nape. I totally regret wearing my hair in a high ponytail.
When the bell rings, I bolt out of class so fast I run into the edge of a desk on my way out. That probably caused a major bruise.
But at least I didn’t have to talk to Tuttle. See his face. Look into his eyes.
Instead of driving straight home after school like I normally would, I go in search of a job. It’s time for me to grab hold of my life and control it. I need money. Lots of it—and all for college. Working a part-time job after school and during the weekends wouldn’t make me much, but it’s a start.
I pull into a shopping center parking lot and walk from store to store, asking if they were hiring. Asking for applications. Most of them told me to apply online, especially the chain stores, and I knew I’d never hear back from them. I need to find a local store, a place that’s run by the actual owners versus a management crew hired by corporate. But those types of businesses are getting harder to find.
So when I stop in front of Yo Town, a relatively new frozen yogurt place located at the far end of the shopping center, I’m thinking it might have strong possibilities.
Pushing open the door, I walk into the chilly shop, noting how clean it looks. A vaguely familiar teenage boy sits on a stool behind the counter with his back against the brightly painted wall, his head buried in a book. So buried, I really can’t see his face at all, just a shock of light brown hair sticks up above the open book, his lanky body hunched over as he reads.