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Sincerely,
Jackhole.
Tears poured down my face as I finished reading. My hands were shaking as I dug a pen and notebook from my school bag, but when I tried to think of what to say back to him, I couldn’t.
I didn’t have Beau’s talent with writing feelings down. I had to say them out loud as they came to me in the moment. But there was no way I could let this go unanswered. So I pushed the pen and paper off my lap and scooted from the bed. Two minutes later, I was calling through the house to my parents that I’d be at the Gambles’ for a while, and I hurried out the back door.
Chapter Five
Beau
I entered my room after coming home from football practice, exhausted and bone-weary from stressing all day, worrying how Bentley would respond to my note.
God, maybe I’d written too much.
Okay, I’d definitely written too much. I mean, I’d flat-out told her how to destroy me if she wanted to. Who did stupid shit like that?
Me, I guess, that’s who.
But I’d kind of been hoping it would get her to maybe, possibly like me more in return. Or at least understand me enough not to totally hate me. Except, now I was questioning whether my words would do the very opposite. What if I totally just freaked her out and she never wanted to see me again? Or worse. What if she felt sorry because I liked her, and she just didn’t like me back?
Damn, what had I done?!
Maybe, if my stars were aligned, she hadn’t even found the note.
Dropping my hefty gym bag on the floor by my dresser, I immediately began to kick off my shoes and reached for the top button of my shirt with the intent to shed it and find something more comfortable, all the while thinking I should write another letter to backtrack and somehow denounce everything I’d already told her.
It actually took me a moment to realize someone was sitting on my bed.
“What the—”
I nearly jumped out of my skin as Bentley pressed a finger to her own lips, shushing me.
“What’re you doing here?” I hissed in a whisper, re-buttoning what I’d just undone, while she rose from the bed and came toward me.
“I needed to talk to you.”
“And it couldn’t wait until...?”
Hell, any other time. Like when I had the courage to actually stomach hearing a rejection from her.
“No,” she said, and then did the unthinkable. She stepped closer, right into my personal space. “I need to get this out now.”
I gulped and edged an uneasy step back. “Okay.”
“Did you mean it?” she asked. “Everything you wrote in the letter?”
I couldn’t tell from her expression if she liked what I’d written or not. It was impossible to know if she was happy, upset, or anything. Which drove me batty.
“Why would I write something I didn’t mean?” I hedged evasively.
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Because you were willing to say anything to get me to forgive you, maybe?”
I merely backed away again when she came at me some more. “I don’t care if you don’t forgive me. Do what you like. It’s your life.”
She paused and tipped her face curiously. “You don’t want me to forgive you, then?”
“I didn’t say that,” I muttered with a frown.
