I put down my soda. After a strained minute, he said, “How’d the moving go?” I forced my gaze up, forced myself to take him in. He was wearing a maroon hat and a gray T-shirt with the phrase PAST LIFE printed on it. I could almost count the honey-colored freckles on his nose and cheeks.
“Fine,” I said.
“So,” he said, his tone abrupt. “Are you going to tell me what I did to piss you off?”
I traced my index finger through a patch of condensation on the bar and shrugged. The words were right there in the center of my mouth—you didn’t do anything—but I didn’t say them.
“God.” Jamie ran both hands through his hair—his hat fell off, but he didn’t pick it up. “I don’t know what to do here. I waited for you all fucking afternoon.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. He sounded so angry, I almost hated him for it. Didn’t he understand how impossible this was? Didn’t he see how much it hurt, just standing there with him?
“I was moving,” I said. “I was busy.”
“You were busy.” Jamie kept his hands in his hair, gripping it. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?”
I picked up a tiny plastic straw and wrapped it around my fingers. “Screw you,” I whispered. “You have no idea what I’m going through.”
“Christ.” He thumped his fist against the side of the bar, making the countertop vibrate. I jumped a little. “Of course I know what you’re going through. I’ve moved, too, Sophia.”
“Then you should get it! I’m leaving in two days, remember? One day, actually, because it’s officially past midnight. Why do I have to hang out with you? I don’t want to.”
He fell into a stunned silence. A girl standing on the other side of me started laughing so hard she fell against my back. I shrugged her off. The pulse in my temples was thudding in time with the obnoxious music. I crushed the straw in my palm and tried as hard as I could to blink back the tears. I didn’t want to say any of this, but I was just so—furious. Furious at Jamie for tricking me into thinking this could work. That this week could end in anything but disaster.
“You’re being pretty goddamned selfish,” he said eventually.
“No,” I said. “I’m being realistic.”
He recoiled. “You’re not the only one who’s been dealing with stuff this week.”
“Oh, whatever,” I snapped. “You left North Carolina. I’m about to leave everything that matters. Tokyo and my friends and my life here. You get to stay. And you get my friends. And you get my life!”
He turned away from me, but I couldn’t seem to stop talking. “And to top it all off, you want me to like you! You want me to miss you. What? Is this some kind of revenge? Make me like you so I can see what it feels like to leave with a broken heart, so I can feel as awful as you did…” I trailed off. Inside, I was screaming at myself for saying what I’d just said. Inside I was begging him, Please know that I’m lying, please know that I’m lying, please know that I’m lying.
But outside I wasn’t saying anything at all.
And neither was he. His usually expressive face was completely closed off. He was standing right in front of me, but he was a thousand miles away.
The T-Cadders around us whooped and hollered. Jamie pushed himself back, took Mika’s drink, and started picking his way toward the stairs.
The ringing in my ears became a roar—a crashing as violent as a storm. The guy next to me vigorously fist-pumped the air and spilled his drink on my foot. Oh God, oh God, oh God, I was going to fall apart, right there, right in front of all those drunk T-Cadders.
“Shit,” I said quietly to myself. My temples continued to throb. This was it. I’d done it—I’d officially and completely ruined everything. Jamie would never forgive me after this. And he shouldn’t; I didn’t deserve to be forgiven. And even if he did forgive me, it didn’t matter now, because this was over. I was over. I was practically gone.
“Shit.”
I fell away from the bar and forced my way through the masses until I got to the bathroom. There wasn’t a line; thank God there wasn’t a line. I locked the door and leaned against it with all my weight. I closed my eyes and saw an image of a black hole. Something powerful and massive, something that destroys anything it touches. It was all around me. It was a snare trapping me; it was pulling me in.
Okay, okay. Deal with this, Sophia. Deal with this.
There was money in my wallet, which meant I could take a cab to the hotel. Which meant I could sit in the air-conditioning with my cat and my suitcase and pretend none of this had ever happened.
Go outside and find a cab. Deal with this.
I stumbled back from the sink and shoved open the bathroom door and… it collided with someone’s face.
“Jesus!” David toppled back.
“David?” I stayed in the doorway for a second. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Jesus.” He tipped his head back and pinched his nose, like he was trying to stop it from bleeding. (It wasn’t bleeding.) “Is that any way to treat someone trying to help you?”
I slammed the door behind me, and it vibrated in its frame. “What did I need your help with? I was in the bathroom!”
If his nose was broken, I wouldn’t have cared.
“I was about to knock,” he said.
“On the door to the girls’ bathroom?!”
“I saw you running in there. I figured maybe you were crying, so I came to check on you.” He was smiling like he expected me to fawn all over him or hand him a Sensitive Boy of the Year award or something. What I wanted to do was punch him.
“Well, here’s some good news,” I snapped. “I’m not crying.”
A girl wearing a yellow dress and high heels was trying to get past us, so I grabbed David’s sleeve and dragged him to the side. We were standing at the edge of the crowd, right where all the drunken arm-waving began.
“So,” he said, nodding his head slightly to the music. “What’s going on? Did you chunder? Are you sure you’re not crying?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “I just can’t stand this place.”