Finally, he asks softly, “Do you really mean that?”
Clenching my hand underneath the table, I nod.
Because the truth is, as torturous as being here with him is and as revealing as that question was, I did mean it. And I’m glad I answered. With my own broken heart and embarrassment, it’s easy to forget that Justin doesn’t have people to tell him these things. There’s the guys, I guess, and his brother, Chase. His housekeeper, and my dad… but that’s it.
Cheating asshat or not, Justin Carter isn’t a completely horrible human being.
He deserves to know that.
We watch each other for the space of two heartbeats until Lauren lifts her voice above the chaos, as if she can sense my weakening resolve. “Baseball players make the best kissers.”
I almost roll my eyes. For one, I’m almost certain she just spotted Gabi and said that to annoy her, and for two, there are no words for how dumb that categorical statement is. But I’m grateful for the not-so-subtle reminder. Pressing my shoulders into the soft cushion of the bench, I grab another chip.
“Too bad Stasi didn’t pair you with your girlfriend,” I say, shooting for levity. I fail miserably since my voice wobbles, but I laugh anyway, even as pressure mounts behind my eyes. I’m nothing if not stubborn. “I’m sure her list would’ve been much more fun.”
“I love your list.” Justin’s voice is gruff and he reaches over, this time boldly and without hesitation taking my hand. I’m too shocked by the contact to pull it back.
“And Lauren’s not my girlfriend.” He stares into me again, never blinking as he says it, and after a slight pause to let that sink in he adds, “She was never my girlfriend, and we haven’t hooked up all year.”
His grip is warm and firm, and panic sets in. I’m not sure what Justin’s trying to prove here or what he hopes to gain, but he’s messing with my head. The skip down memory lane. The way he keeps looking at me like he can truly see me, all the way down to the marrow. It’s as if he’s forgotten all the pain and fear and confusion.
Or worse, that he was never into me at all.
“Whatever labels you two want to slap on it,” I say, tugging on my hand. Justin tightens his hold, and I narrow my eyes. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”
Honestly? Girlfriend, casual hookup, whatever term they use, it still hurts. Actually, it hurts worse to think that he ditched me for a simple fling.
Justin grunts. “I wasn’t gonna do this now.” His free hand rakes through his hair and fists the ends in a tight grip. “I planned to wait a few days at least but I can’t. Sunshine, you’ve got to know that there was more to what happened that day. I’m not making excuses, I know I screwed up, but you don’t know the full truth.”
“First,” I say, finally yanking my hand from his grasp. “Don’t call me Sunshine. Second, as crazy as this may be, I’m great with not knowing the sordid details. Fantastic, even. Believe me, I’ve imagined every possibility anyway.”
“No, that’s not what I meant—”
“The details don’t even matter,” I continue, hearing how my voice borders on hysteria. Licking my lips, I glance around the room and lower my voice to a more discreet level. “The past is in the past. I’m with someone else now, and you’re… doing whatever it is you do.”
“But I’m not doing anything—” He stops abruptly. “Wait. You have a boyfriend?”
He looks gobsmacked, which is kind of like the icing on the craptastic experience that is this night. Shocking, other guys find me attractive! If my self-esteem hadn’t been running on empty already, this night would’ve sent the needle straight to E.
Then Justin nods, his lips twitching into a smirk, and I know he’s figured it out. “So, Cade finally grew a pair, huh?”
THURSDAY, MAY 13TH
20 Weeks until Disaster
?Freshman Year
PEYTON
FAIRFIELD ACADEMY FRONT STEPS 4:56 P.M.
Gilbert Blythe was a bona fide literary babe. No matter how many times I re-read Anne of Green Gables, I always got sucked in, turning each page a bit slower than the last, wanting to prolong the journey. Wishing with everything in me that I were as daring and confident as fellow redhead Anne Shirley, and that a boy like Gilbert would fall head over boots for me.
I’d even let him call me Carrots… or Sunshine.
Smiling at my book, I began another chapter, wondering what Anne would do with a boy like Justin Carter. Not that Justin was my Gilbert. Two weeks into the semester and I’d already gotten an earful about his exploits with girls—a certain Diamond Doll in particular—and knew that he was way out of my league.