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“Sorry.” The word leaves my lips too soon. Before I realize who exactly is in front of me, I’m apologizing, and instantly, I wish I could take the words back.
“Sorry? You’re sorry?”
It’s Harrison, and he’s pissed. Dana isn’t with him, and for that, I’m grateful. I don’t know if I could handle having her watch while he puts me down again.
What is it going to be this time, I wonder?
Is he going to talk about my stringy hair?
Is he going to point out my weird nose?
Is he going to say that my eyes are too close together?
I swallow hard but don’t say anything else.
“Answer me,” he snaps.
I look up at him, meeting his gaze. Harrison O’Conner is far too handsome for his own good. He’s got the chiseled jaw of his father, but the soft eyes of his mother. Most of the time, Harrison is wildly handsome, and I’m not an idiot. I know he can be sweet when he wants to be. Hell, there were plenty of times when he was nice to me as a kid. That was a long time ago, though.
That was before Frank started playing us against each other and making our lives awkward and strange.
That was before we hit middle school and our lives started going in different directions.
Now, Harrison’s eyes aren’t soft.
They aren’t sweet.
There’s no gentleness there.
“Yes,” I finally whisper. “I’m sorry.”
Only, I’m not sorry for almost walking into him. I’m sorry for everything else.
I’m sorry that he’s had a shitty life.
I’m sorry that his dad sucks.
I’m sorry that my mother made a horrible choice that shoved me into his life forever.
I’m sorry for all of it.
And most of all, I’m sorry that I’m not going to be around to see it all fall apart.
“Sorry isn’t good enough,” Harrison says.
Not good enough?
What is it that he wants from me?
I wait, not saying anything. I’m certain that Harrison is going to pull my hair or pinch me. Maybe he’ll flick me or grab my nose between his fingers, gripping me so hard that it hurts. He’s done worse to me. I can only imagine what it would be like to be married to him and have him hurting me all of the time. I don’t want that, though. I don’t want any of that.
I want the nice version of Harrison that I used to know.
I want the kind-hearted good boy I know is buried deep inside.
This version of Harrison sucks, and I hate it. I hate him.
Harrison seems surprised that I’m not arguing back with him. I’m not saying anything. I’m just standing there, blankly staring at him, and he shakes his head.
