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“If I put it on your door, will you look at it?”
Turning to face him, I sipped the coffee. “No.”
He blinked.
“I don’t want to look at it. If you want Dad to do another of your songs, get him to add the lyrics to it. He used to be good at it.” I grabbed the toast as it popped up. “I have to meet Aubrey at the library.”
I was almost to the door when he said, “I didn’t know he was going to do that.”
“Yeah well, you spend enough time with Gibson Crosse and you figure out he’s going to do whatever the hell he wants. But enjoy being the favorite,” I said and despite all my attempts, I couldn’t keep the bitterness out of my voice.
It wasn’t Jonas’ fault that he was the favorite. Anymore than it was my fault or Bronson’s that we’d been born, or any of the members of ‘we could have been in a condom’.
Pivoting, I looked into his gray eyes for the first time in weeks. “Be careful with him, Jonas,” I told him.
He frowned. “Why?”
“Because he has a way of making you feel like you’re the center of the world, then moving on and leaving you spinning. Just be careful—I gotta go.”
There, I warned him.
* * *
“Your mother is getting married,” Trish said and I pulled the phone away to stare at it for a moment then put it back to my ear.
“What?”
“She’s getting married, the first week of June, and she wants you to be the maid of honor. I’ll send you all the details. Make sure you’re free and update me on your measurements so I can get the dress ordered—”
“Trish,” I cut into her. I’d heard nothing from Mom in months and she was out of her retreat andnowshe was getting married. “Who is she marrying?”
“Oh, I don’t know, honey,” Trish said. “I don’t really worry about that part. She’s had a string of broken engagements, this will probably go the same way…”
“Is it Johnny?”
“No,” Trish said with almost audible wince. “Oh honey, she didn’t tell you?”
Of course ,she didn’t. “They broke up.”
“Yeah, at Christmas.” And Johnny hadn’t said a word because he was a decent guy.
Fuck.
“Just make sure you’re here for the wedding, okay?”
“Sure…why not…”
* * *
It was pouring rain when I finished my second to last final for the year. One more. Just one more and I was free. I pushed out of the building with the flow of students on their way toward freedom.
I pulled the phone out of my bag and turned it on to check. The only times I shut it off were for tests. The message on my screen robbed me of all the relief finishing the exam had given me.
Jackie
Call me.
I went hot then cold as I pressed her contact and hurried away from the other students. I didn’t care if I got wet.
