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I know she's read it. The little green checks taunt me.
But she never fucking replies.
My fist slams down on my desk with such force everything rattles. My pens roll off the edge and the paperwork tucked against the stack of books falls over.
The college crest on the envelope catches my eye.
How the fuck am I meant to even think about my future when everything I want is stuck in the Heights with no signs of a way out?
Swiping the stack of papers, I storm out of my room and dump them in the trash in the kitchen. I've lost track of the dates, so I'm sure most of the deadlines have already passed anyway.
Ellen isn't anywhere to be seen, but there is a tray of freshly made cookies on the side. Stacking the lot in one of my hands, I grab a soda with the other and make my way back upstairs.
Hadley gives me a double take when I meet her halfway up the stairs.
I know I look better than I did a couple of days ago after getting back from that fight, but I'm still a fucking mess. At least my outside now matches the fucked-up inside.
Her eyes scan my face for a second before they drop to the cookies. "Hungry?" she asks, her voice soft and full of sympathy.
I shrug, not really in the mood for a heart to heart.
Sidestepping her, I move to pass, but before I do she reaches out and places her warm hand on my forearm.
"James is going to fix this," she says confidently, her voice full of a positivity I haven’t felt since that night in Colton.
"Is he?" I ask, hating the defeat in my tone. "It's already been too long. He's doing fuck all. He's not even here." I throw up my ar
ms in frustration. Dad is so fucking concerned about Kenny that he's not even in the Bay right now. He and Sarah fucked off a few days ago and we haven’t seen or heard from them since. Some fucking father.
"Yes, Conner. He is. You have to trust him."
"Like I trusted Cole?" I hiss.
"They just did what they thought was best."
"Stop defending them, Hads. They're liars."
"They—" I cut her a seething look and she slams her lips shut. "Shutting us all out won't help, Conner."
I want to argue with her, but I don't have the energy. Instead, I continue up the stairs and allow her to head down to wherever she was going.
Gently stacking my cookies on my desk, careful not to break any, I reach for the cell in the hope she might have replied.
I know I should be expecting it, but my heart still drops when I don't find anything.
Conner: Please, I need to know you're okay.
Nothing.
Conner: I'll turn up there to find out myself if you don't reply.
My heart races as I wait. Surely that will get some response out of her? But this time it goes unread. It’s to be expected—it's not like she can sit with her new cell in her hand, freely replying to my messages—but still, it hurts.
As the week goes on, reminders of what the weekend brings seem to be everywhere I turn.
Sterling Prep apparently holds an annual Valentine's Day dance, and the hallways are an explosion of heart banners and invite posters to attend.
All anyone is talking about is who their date is, what they're wearing, and what kind of car Mommy and Daddy have hired to ensure they arrive in style. Every time Aimee looks at me, I can see the hope in her eyes that I'm going to ask her to be my date, and every time we part and I haven’t so much as mentioned it, I see a little more of the sparkle in her eyes die. I want to feel bad. But I don't. She's even more delusional than I thought if she's really holding out hope of me attending the party, let alone with her.
