Let's just say it did not feel good. My face was giving off as much heat as the summer sun, but I
managed to shake my hair back and concentrate on opening my mailbox's lock. Sooner or later I
would clear my name and these people would all have to apologize for suspecting me. For now it
was get in and get out. That was the plan.
Then someone stepped up to a box a few feet away from mine and I could feel whoever it was
eyeing me tentatively. Against my own will, I glanced over. It was Marc Alberro. My date for the
Billings fundraiser who hadn't spoken to me once since dismissing me that night. He approached
me slowly, letting his dark hair fall over his forehead as if he was trying to hide. My heart fluttered
with nervousness. Not that I cared all that much what Marc Alberro thought of me, but would this
be another public call-out? God, I hoped not.
"Hey, Reed. What's up?" he asked. His tone was conciliatory, which relaxed my tense shoulders a
bit.
"Oh, I think we all know what's up," I replied, glancing at a group of girls who were eyeing me
nearby. "What's up with you? I thought
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you were never going to speak to me again after the fund-raiser."
I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised when Marc basically told me to walk away after the
Dash video had been zapped to everyone we knew. He was, after all, a decent guy and a member
of Easton's Purity Club. A guy like that would definitely not be happy about everyone seeing his
date's sloppy hookup with another guy. Another girl's guy, to be exact. I already had two strikes
against me, so why was he talking to me now? Wasn't an alleged murder rap strike three?
"Yeah, well, I've thought about it a lot and... when it comes down to it, it's not really my business
what you did before we met," he said quietly, leaning back against the wall of P.O. boxes. "It's not
even really my business what you've done since."
His words made me feel both chagrined and relieved at the same time. He was telling me he no
longer had any interest in going out with me. Which, while it was a rejection, was kind of a
welcome rejection. With everything else that was going on right then, the last thing I needed was
to navigate the murky waters of a new relationship. Especially one I hadn't been all that into to
begin with. Marc was a nice guy and all--smart, cute, funny--but I had never felt that thing you're
supposed to feel when you like a guy. That "I might die if I don't see him again before the next