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West has never sneered at me before.
He’s teased me, challenged me, seduced me—but he’s never mocked me.
Something is really deeply wrong here.
I screw up my courage and catch at the sleeve of his coat, pulling him to a halt right in the middle of the sidewalk.
“Did something happen to you? Last night, or on your way back here?”
It’s a long shot, but he could have an excuse. An explanation. He could.
“I told you, nothing’s the matter. ”
“Then why are you acting like this?”
“Like what?”
I push at his biceps with my fingertips, looking up at his empty face. “Like this. ”
He kind of rolls his eyes at me. Not all the way, but he glances up at the sky, like I’m hassling him. Some random, troublesome girl. “I think you have the wrong idea about us. ”
“What does that mean?”
“Showing up at my apartment. We’re not gonna be like that. ”
We’re not gonna be like that.
That’s what he’s getting at with this routine of his. That’s his purpose. “You’re pushing me away. ”
He still won’t look at me, and I think at first it’s more of the same thing—a way for him to pretend I’m getting predictably whiny now, female histrionics in full effect—except his eyes are glistening. His Adam’s apple works, bobbing as he swallows.
His voice is f
ull of gravel when he tells me, “It’s just, I’m gonna be busy. ” He clears his throat and continues, “I’ve got eighteen credits this semester, plus an extra bakery shift, and I don’t think—”
“Who do you think you are?”
“What?”
“Are you the same person who I talked to on the phone two nights ago? And the night before that, and the night before that, and twice a lot of days, when the house was empty with Frankie at school? Was that you, or was that some other guy who just sounded like you?”
“You know it was me. ”
“So what are you saying?”
He crosses his arms. Completely unable to look at me. “I’m saying I want to back off this thing. ”
“This thing. ”
“Us. ”
“You’re breaking up with me?”
“We were never going out. ”
The words drop onto the ground between us, and I look at the place where they land, right in front of his feet. The frozen gray slush. West is standing braced—his legs wide, his arms crossed, the restaurant door ten feet behind him, glowing like a beacon.
He planned this. He was ready for it.
