TJ taps Clarissa on the arm. “You wanna get dinner tonight?”
Dammit.
She seems to consider it a moment. I expect her to ask him a bunch of questions, but all she says is, “Sure.”
“Sweet. Can I get your number?” TJ holds out a pen, and then puts his arm in her lap. Anger rolls around in the pit of my stomach. This is not happening.
She takes his hand and writes her number on his forearm. Every second that passes is like another knife being stabbed into my back. I’m right here. I see all of this.
And he knows it.
“I’ll call you later,” TJ promises, sealing the deal with a wink.
I see her cheeks turn pink just before the bell rings. I bolt out of that classroom like it’s on fire. What the hell is this shit? He’s doing it to piss me off, he has to be. TJ doesn’t go for girls like Clarissa. He likes them slutty. Drunk girls at parties. Freshmen. He doesn’t like sweet girls like Clarissa.
I don’t even realize what I’m doing at first. My feet take me down to the math hallway. As soon as she turns the corner, I release the breath I’d been holding. She’s alone. That dickhead didn’t follow her to her next class. This is my chance.
She doesn’t even see me because she’s looking down at her phone. I step in front of her.
“You can’t go out with him.”
She startles, then looks at me with hatred in her eyes. “Excuse you?”
“TJ is a dick. You can’t go out with him.”
“I can go out with whoever I want,” she says, stepping to the side.
“Yeah, but dating him would be a mistake.”
“Good thing I have experience in dating mistakes,” she snaps.
I sigh. “Please, Clarissa. Don’t do it.”
She just glares at me. There are so many things I wish I could say, but even if she’d listen, there’s not enough time between classes. That’s when I remember the letter. I pull it out of my book and hand it to her. “Just read this. Please.”
“What is it?” she says, turning over the blank envelope.”
“It’s a letter from me.”
She rolls her eyes. That cuts me worse than a knife.
“Hate me all you want, but TJ will only hurt you.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t find a reason to believe anything you say.” She shoves my letter into her binder and then grips it to her chest. At least she didn’t rip it up on sight.
“Just read the letter,” I say. “Please.”
She turns toward her classroom and doesn’t bother looking me in the eye anymore. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
I stand there for a second, my muscles rebelling against any movement. I’m overwhelmed with being in her presence again. I’m relieved that I finally gave her the letter, and even though she hates me, she might read it. If she reads it, maybe she’ll find a way to forgive me.
Or maybe I’ve already lost her to TJ.
