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Except…except I think it really did!
I’m going to throw up. I really am. Why did I eat that bacon cheeseburger for lunch?
My fingers are trembling so much I can barely write this…but I have to get it down somehow…okay, here goes:
Now I know what Michael meant when he said he was going to come by and try to explain. He meant he was going to come to ALBERT EINSTEIN HIGH SCHOOL.
And walk up to the door to seventh period Chemistry just as I was coming out with J.P. Only at first I didn’t notice him. Michael, I mean.
At least, not until after J.P.—who I’m sure hadn’t noticed Michael either—went, “Friends?” to me, and I said, “Of course!” and then he said, “Hug?”
And I was like, “Why not?” And gave him one.
And I was so—I don’t know. MOVED by how sad J.P. was, on account of breaking up with Lilly, and all—that the next thing I knew, I was KISSING J.P.
I only meant to kiss him on the cheek. But he moved his head. And so I ended up kissing him on the lips.
Not like French, or anything. And only for a second.
Still. I kissed him. On the lips.
It wouldn’t have been any big deal—I’m sure it wouldn’t—if it hadn’t been for the fact that when I took my arms down from around his neck and turned around—all embarrassed, because I HADN’T meant to kiss him. Or at least, not exactly—there was Michael.
Just standing there in the middle of the crowded hallway, looking stunned.
So many things went through my head when I turned around and saw Michael standing there, staring at me. Happiness, at first, because I’m always happy when I see Michael. Then pain, when I remembered what he did to me, and how we’re broken up now. Then bewilderment, over what on earth he was doing at a school he already graduated from.
Then I realized he was there to try to explain, like he’d texted.
And then I saw his expression, and saw his gaze dart from my face to J.P.’s—poor J.P., who was standing there still as a statue, the hand he’d put around my waist when I’d stood on my tiptoes to kiss him still up in the air, like he’d forgotten how to move, or something!—and back again.
And I knew EXACTLY what he was thinking.
Then all I felt was confused. Because Michael had to think—well, that there was something going on between me and J.P.
But it wasn’t true, of course.
“Michael,” I said.
But it was too late. Because he was already turning around and walking away.
Walking away, like he’d suddenly realized he’d made a huge, colossal mistake in coming to see me at all!
I couldn’t believe it! Apparently, I don’t even mean enough to him to stay to try to hash it out with me! He didn’t even stay to punch J.P. in the face for scamming on his girl!
I guess because I’m not actually his girl anymore.
Also, I guess I shouldn’t have been too surprised. I mean, when Michael saw me sexy dancing with J.P. at that party he had last year, he never said anything about it.
But he hadn’t completely ignored me altogether afterward, either, like he’s doing now.
Oh, God. I can’t even think about it. I thought writing about it would help, but it hasn’t. My fingers are STILL shaking as I write this. What’s happening to me? My stomach is really upset, too. It can’t be the cheeseburger; that was hours ago…plus the nurse gave me those antacids…
WHY didn’t he SAY ANYTHING? I WAS KISSING ANOTHER MAN. You’d have thought he’d at least have said SOMETHING, even if it was only, “Good-bye, forever.”
Good-bye, forever. Oh, God. He’s leaving tonight. Forever.
And he looked so GOOD standing there, so tall and strong, with his neck all freshly shaved (I think. I didn’t exactly get an opportunity to go up to it and check. Or take a sniff. Oh, God! How I miss the smell of Michael’s neck! If I smelled it right now, I bet I’d stop shaking, and my stomach would stop rolling around).
