Page 109

“Revenge, kind of,” I say, so racked with guilt now that I think I’m going to be sick. “I thought you were just using me, and I was hurt—”

“But you were the one using me for your game.”

“—and so I made a plan to overcome you. I wanted to prove myself . . . by beating you.” I pause.

He looks so stunned by this admission that he can’t speak.

He’s pulled away from me entirely.

I clasp my hands together tightly. Drop my head. “It was stupid,” I say. “I got caught up in my own head and then I thought something was off and instead of . . . well, instead of taking the mature route and just addressing you, I did something truly ridiculous. I’m messed up.” My voice warbles. Because he knows now, too, just how messed up inside I am. “I’m so far from perfect I can’t even see the finish line and probably never will.”

Several seconds go by in silence between us.

He doesn’t brush my confession away. Doesn’t call it just a silly little mistake and move on.

Because surely, now that I’ve said this aloud, he sees what I see. I’m truly and without question in no way deserving of James Stone.

He’s mature.

I’m broken.

He came here to be with his family as a way to mend his life.

I took up a stupid notebook and strangers as my props.

I have no job. No money. I’m back to living with my parents. And the worst thing? I have no self-control. I can’t take rejection from anybody, even if it kills me. When it’s about to, I throw everybody around me under the bus.

I’m just a child. A broken, spoiled, selfish child.

Finally, I can’t take the silence anymore. I stand. Hands clenched. “I’m so sorry,” I say. “I never meant—” I have to stop myself from saying I never meant to hurt you because that’s not even true. So instead, I finish with “I’m so sorry to have ruined everything. I sincerely wish you and your family a merry Christmas.”

And without stopping, as fresh tears prick my eyes, I rush off, not wanting to further this childish display any longer.

I see his car’s headlights pull out an hour later.

He packed up, as I suspected, and left just as quietly as he came.

I pull the curtain closed as his taillights disappear through the woods. Bite my lip as I feel Genie’s light touch on my back.

“You did the right thing,” she says gently.

Genie has already apologized a dozen times for becoming my “hype girl” through all this. I assured her it wasn’t her fault, that I alone am to blame for making my own mess, and that now I just have to come to terms with it and sit in it awhile before I move on.

“Wanna come down? They’re still doing the show,” Genie says hopefully, but I shake my head.

“I don’t think I’m a good enough actor to pretend I’m happy right now. But you go on. I’m going to take a shower . . . again, and get in bed early.”

Genie hesitates. “You sure?”

I nod. “Go on. Today’s taken it out of me. I’m tired anyway.”

So she leaves. Both she and Mom check on me in the next two hours, and both times I say I’m okay. That I’m just going to go to bed, even though I’m still awake.

I’m not even sure Mom knows he left.

I’m not sure she knows just how far I’ve crashed. And a thought repeats, once aimed at James, now with the bull’s-eye on me:

I guess that’s what happens when you’re busy conning somebody else: You prioritize your own agenda so much, you forget to really examine the other person’s point of view.