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She turns to me, her gaze lowered. I know she wants to say something; she just doesn’t know if she should. And so I wait. Play out The Patience Game. “Did he tell you I gave him a second chance?”
I sit taller, all ears. “What?”
Her eyes meet mine. “Yeah. Even after Bethany came knocking on my door and exposed him for the piece of shit he is, I—pathetically—still wanted him. I asked him to choose: her or me.” She spins around, picks out a ghastly shit-brown cardigan, and faces me again. “So he cantellyou that he loves me. He can even say the same to my face. But it’s pretty fucking obvious who he chose, Holden.”
“It’s not that simple,”Dean says, slamming his gym locker shut. We’d planned to do a morning weights session, and so here we are. Jamie leaves as early as she does because she catches two busses to school. We were one of the few cars here when we arrived, and she said it was perfect since she’d have the art room all to herself. I should’ve gone to the art room with her because now I’m having a stand-off with myfriendover a girl hechoseto leave behind.
“How is it not?” I scoff. I’m trying to contain my anger, but my tone defies me. I lean against the lockers; hands shoved in my pockets. “You know, Jamie thinks that Bethany hasn’t told everyone because she’s ashamed that you cheated on her with a girl who scrubs dishes at a truck stop and lives in a trailer…”
He doesn’t respond, and when I glance up at him, the look in his eyes is answer enough.
“You guys are such fucking elitist assholes,” I say, pushing off the locker. I need to get away from him before I say something I’ll regret.
“Holden, stop,” he grinds out, hand on my chest. “You know better than anyone what my parents are like. Image is everything to them. And tothem, Bethany and I fit in their picture-perfect box. Could you imagine how they’d react to me bringing Jamie home?”
Icannotbe hearing this. I slap his hand off me. “Are you fucking serious right now?”
“I’m not like you, bro,” he says, his voice rising. “I don’t have the freedom to live my life however I want. Everything’s set in stone for me.” He ticks off his expectations on his fingers. “I get college paid for, I marry the girl everyone expects me to, I work in real estate with my grandpa, and when he retires, I take over the business and live happily ever after. The end.”
“Who the fuck are you right now?”
“I’m a fucking realist, Holden!”
He may be right, but still. “They’re not just other people’s expectations of you. They’re yours, too.Yourwants.Yourneeds.Yourfuture. And you don’t give a fuck who you hurt on the way.”
He’s quiet for a beat, and I can see the question in his eyes before he expresses it out loud, “Why are you so invested in this?”
I square my shoulders, ready myself for whatever he’s going to throw at me. “Because I’m seeing her.”
He laughs once, fueled by bitterness. “You mean you’refuckingher?”
“No, Dean. I mean, I’mseeingher.”
“Right,” he says, stepping back. “So, what do you want from me? My approval?”
“I’m not asking your permission. I’mtellingyou.”
He rolls his eyes, picks up his gym bag from the bench beside us. “Well, this will be good,” he murmurs.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
After dragging the strap over his torso, he says, “You don’t even realize the disaster you’re about to inflict on yourselves.” He scoffs. “You guys are complete fucking opposites. She’s had a messed-up life that’s forced her to mature to an age you can’t even fathom, and you—you’re like Peter Pan—the leader of the Lost Boys—the boy who wouldn’t grow up. You can’t even get your shit together enough to think or even care about what you’re going to do once we’re done here.” He steps closer until we’re toe-to-toe. “So have your fun, man. But don’t be surprised when she gets sick of your shit—when she wants more than just sex and a good time.” He inches forward, his mouth right to my ear. “You’re nothing but a rebound,friend.”
I shove his chest—hard—but it only makes him laugh. I’d never seen this side of him before. This resentful, cruel version of him. “How the fuck are we friends?”
Head bent, he settles his laughter enough to look up and face me. Stony eyes meet mine, hardening his words when he says, “My dad asked me to be so you would join the team.”
“Fuck you.”
“You’re nothing to me, Eastwood,” he deadpans. “You never were.”
29
Jamie
He’snothing more than a lone silhouette beneath the moonlight, but I know who it is before he even looks up. Ball cap pulled low on his brow, Holden makes no attempt to move as I approach him. He’s sitting on the hood of his truck in the alleyway behind the diner, and I try to recall if we’d made plans.
We hadn’t.
