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“You may go. But I’m going to be watching you closely.”
I started to tell her not to bother but nodded instead. Because maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.
But any good feeling she’d cultivated died in Calculus. River and I sat as far away from each other as humanly possible while still remaining in the same room. He didn’t look at me and I didn’t look at him. It was as if Saturday never happened. When class ended and he still hadn’t looked my way, it felt like we’d erased not only that night at the pool but every small moment we’d had since the day we’d met.
Now there was nothing left.
Because it was a mistake.
After school that day, James drove me to the Cliffs. I stumbled my way to the Shack where Miller and Ronan were already there in front of a fire, Miller plucking his guitar, Ronan drinking a beer.
“What’s the story, gentlemen?” I sat down heavily in my chair. The day was overcast and cloudy, but I kept my Bulgari sunglasses on to hide my bleary eyes.
“What’s up with you?” Miller asked. His expression was as heavy and troubled as always. “You okay?”
I got drunk with River Whitmore and sucked his thumb as if it were his cock. How was your weekend?
I had to keep River’s secret, even if it was suffocating him, but I’d kept him away from Violet. That was something.
“Peachy,” I said. “How was Homecoming?”
Ronan snorted and tipped his beer. Miller gave him the finger.
“What’d I miss?” I asked.
“That asshole, Whitmore, ditched Violet at the dance.”
“You don’t say,” I said, feeling Ronan’s eyes on me. “So you swept in and rescued her and are now living happily ever after.”
“Not quite,” Miller said. “I hooked up with Amber.”
“Plot twist. Why?”
“My numbers were low, and I was drunk. It was a mistake.”
“Where have I heard that before?” I muttered.
Miller shook his head. “Anyway, that’s no excuse. What happened, happened and I’m going to make the best of it. See if there’s anything between us.”
Ronan snorted again and Miller shot him an angry look.
“Clearly, you’ve been discussing this turn of events at length, prior to my arrival,” I said. “Ronan, you don’t approve?”
He scoffed. “Amber put his dick in her mouth, so Miller thinks he owes her.”
“Fuck off, Wentz,” Miller snapped and tossed his guitar in the case and closed the lid. “I gotta go to work.”
We listened to him lock his guitar in the Shack, and then he trudged out, head down, shoulders hunched.
“What was that all about?” I asked.
“Just what I said,” Ronan replied. “They hooked up and now he’s trying to do what he thinks is honorable.”
“I’m not acquainted with that word personally, but isn’t that a good thing?”
He toyed with his beer. “Where were you on Homecoming night?”
I pretended to flinch. “Weren’t we talking about Miller eight milliseconds ago?”
