Finally, a familiar blunt blonde haircut catches my eye, and I turn to confirm that Jamie has arrived. She’s in too-tight faded jeans and a hot-pink top that seems innocent enough from the back but which I know, without having to look, is low-cut in the front.
I slam the metal door so that the lock catches securely and ease my way across two lanes of students, eyes on Jamie’s back the whole time. Once I reach her, I have to clear my throat before she notices me standing at her side.
“Hi, J,” I say brightly.
“Hi,” she mutters, turning back to her locker.
“How are you?” I ask.
“Do you care?” she says, not turning around.
“Of course I care, Jamie, you’re my best friend!” She glances at me, then back to the locker.
“Am I?” she says. “Or am I too much of a slut to be your friend anymore?”
“Jamie, that’s not fair!” I say. Jamie slams her locker door and turns to face me. Her eyes are cold, vacant.
“No, London. No, it isn’t,” she says bitterly, before walking off toward her first class.
My face flushes, and I’m so mad that I want to chase after her and shake her and tell her everything I know that she doesn’t. But just then, the bell signaling the start of the period rings, and chasing down Jamie might mean detention with her boyfriend, I mean Mr. Rice. So instead, I rush to the library.
Ms. Mason glares at me for being late, and Luke sits up expectantly when I fall into the chair opposite him, but something about my body language tells them both to back off. I work on Spanish homework the whole period and leave quickly when the bell sounds. I can feel Luke’s disappointment, and guilt creeps through me until I remember this morning’s notes. This is the guy who lied to me for four months. Four months. He deserves a little indecision. He deserves to sweat it out a bit.
p; * *
After school, a floral hatbox sits before me with its innards exposed. Luke’s apology letter in one hand and a photo of a happy couple in the other, I feel like my innards are exposed, too.
My mom didn’t seem surprised when I asked her about him. She led me right to the hatbox, with a look that bordered on patronizing.
“Well, that didn’t take long,” she said.
“It’s not over yet,” I replied, grabbing the hatbox and taking refuge in my room.
Now, in a word, I’m thrown.
I started at the beginning, and after reading about the first few times Luke and I spoke, I was ready to dial his number and accept his apology right then and there.
But then I read on, with his betrayal in mind. Every seemingly pleasant moment filtered through this new lens of lies became darker—dirtier. He was keeping a secret from me the whole time, never letting me know the real Luke.
Then again, I was keeping a secret from him, too.
In a way, we were both at fault.
Still, his lie was worse.
Wasn’t it?
My cell phone rings beside me and I know that it’s him, even though the number isn’t stored in my phone. I consider ignoring the call, but can’t help but answer.
“Hello?” I say quietly.
“Hi.” A smooth voice breathes into the phone, sending chills down my spine. Why did he lie? If I wasn’t mad at him, I could be staring into his blue eyes right now.
“Hi,” I say back.
“I know you said that you needed time, but I had to call,” Luke begins.
“You’re not exactly giving me space,” I say, determined not to be charmed so easily. Gorgeous or not, he hurt me.