Her hands aren’t the only wounded parts of her. Her knees are bleeding from gravel embedded in her soft, delicate skin. She's not feeling it, though. She’s hurting too much to feel something as meager as pain.
Her sad eyes stare into mine as she demands, “Stay away from me, Nick.”
The heaviness on my chest intensifies when she slides into the driver’s seat of her car. It takes her several attempts to get her seatbelt to latch into place, but once it’s fixed, her car goes darting out of the driveway, leaving me in a cloud of dust.
When a screen door creaking open shrieks through my ears, I turn back to face my house. My dad is standing in the doorway, his eyes holding the same anger and embarrassment Jenni’s held when she asked me to leave her alone.
Shaking his head, he reenters our house, slamming the door behind him.
* * *
Call me a sucker for punishment, but the next day, I arrive at Jacob’s house for the band's monthly BBQ. Jenni’s car is parked in the same spot it was last time, but she doesn’t turn to face me when she senses my presence. She just enters the house, leaving me under the suspicious watch of both Slater and Jacob.
When lunch is served, she waits for me to be seated first before picking a seat as far away from me as possible. Because she sits on the same side of the table as me, I don’t even get the opportunity to glance at her.
It takes Slater a few minutes to realize she’s avoiding me on her own accord, but when he does, he kicks me in the shins so hard, I’ll be limping for a week. When the girls take the dishes into the kitchen to be washed, I follow them. I don’t just want a chance to get Jenni alone this time, though. I genuinely want to help.
Jenni freezes when I enter the kitchen on Emily’s heels. Her clumsy movements have the dishes clanging together so fiercely, they chip. After stuffing the broken plate into the cupboard, she storms out of the kitchen. I nearly go after her, but Nicole shoves a stack of wet plates into my hands, stopping me.
By the time I’ve finished drying up, Jenni is nowhere to be seen. My steps to check if her car is still here halt mid-stride when Jacob steps into my path.
“She left,” he informs me, his tone clipped. “This is theexactreason Slater was trying to keep her away from you.” His voice reveals his disappointment in me.
Join the club, Jakeyboy. I’ve got a list of haters as long as my arm right now, and my name is right at the top.
Since the only reason I come to these gatherings has left, I leave as well.
* * *
“Wow, The Player returns,” Tina croons upon spotting me entering the Dungeon.
I shoot her a quick smirk before continuing my trip to Isaac’s office. I haven’t been at the Dungeon in over two months. The handful of times I came here without Jenni just felt weird. Every time I was dancing with a girl, I imagined she was Jenni. When I realized a doppelgänger would never come close to the real thing, my fantasies crashed and burned. Jenni and I never had an agreement to stay exclusive, but the Dungeon held too many memories of her. I couldn’t bring myself to use it as my playground anymore.
When I enter Isaac’s office, his dark eyes lift to mine. He’s talking on his cell phone. After gesturing for me to enter, he spins his office chair around, then lowers his voice. I don’t give a shit about his shady business dealings, so I don’t know why he’s acting sneaky.
“Alright, bye, Dee.” Spinning back around, Isaac assesses my sour expression. “Are the test results in yet?” His tone is as low and demanding as always.
I shake my head. I’ve been waiting for the paternity test results for nearly a week. We had to wait for Megan to reach sixteen weeks before an amniocentesis could be performed. Despite Megan’s best efforts, I haven’t had any contact with her since she bombarded me two months ago. Her pursuit to engage with me has been relentless, but until the results are in, I refuse to associate with her.
I scrub my tired eyes. “Hopefully this week.”
Hearing a worry I didn’t mean to express, Isaac asks, “Are you worried?”
I shake my head again. I’m confident Megan’s unborn baby isn’t mine, but the results no longer matter. I’m reasonably sure Jenni will never speak to me again either way.
* * *
The next morning, I’m awoken by my phone vibrating on my bedside table. Scampering, I slide my finger across the screen then press it to my ear. “Jenni?”
“Ah. . . Good morning, Mr. Holt, it's Emma, Taylor Lee’s receptionist.” She swallows, as embarrassed by my mistake as me. “I’m calling to advise you that the amnio results are in.”
I sit up in my bed. “Okay. Good. Can you tell me the results over the phone?”
“No, sorry, I can’t. Ms. Lee likes doing them in house. I can schedule you an appointment for—”
“Today?” I interrupt.
Papers being shuffled sound down the line. “She did have a cancellation at three o’clock; how does that sound?”
