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I scoff then hear a car horn beep outside. She watches me as I round the island bench and grab an apple out of the fruit bowl for breakfast.
“Lyndsey is here. I have to go,” I say, then make my way out of the kitchen.
“Just think about it, Ava,” my mother calls out, and I stop, turning around to look at her. “You have a lot of history together. Don’t throw it away because of one little indiscretion.”
I shake my head at the absurdity of her comment and leave the kitchen, heading to the front door.
A little indiscretion?
What planet does this woman live on? Why can’t she see the magnitude of his betrayal? She doesn’t get it, or maybe she just doesn’t care.
* * *
“How are you doing, babe?”Lyndsey asks as we drive to pick up Cadence and Chelsea.
“I’m fine. The highlight of my week was getting the all clear on my STD results.”
Lyndsey glances at me briefly, then turns her attention back to the road. “I thought you always used condoms?”
“We did. Never went without, but he has been sleeping with HadleyfuckingMiller. I wouldn’t be surprised if the cocktail of STDs she is infected with has somehow morphed into some new strain of super STD that even the condom can’t protect from.”
She bursts out laughing. “I love it. I’m totally using that one.”
I giggle in return. After a week of tears, tissues, and tantrums, it feels good to laugh. It’s a nice change.
The rest of the drive is in silence. A comfortable silence. That is one of the things I love about Lyndsey. She never feels the need to force conversation on me when I’m down in a desperate attempt to fill the void. She is happy to just sit in silence with me and offer comfort.
I couldn’t say the same for Cadence and Chelsea. After we picked them up, they wouldn’t shut up the whole way to school. As much as I love my girls, I’m a cranky bitch today, and as each minute ticks by, the temptation to tape their mouths shut with copious amounts of duct tape becomes increasingly harder to resist.
When we finally pull up to school, I breathe a sigh of relief that I’m finally out of the car, but it’s soon replaced with a feeling of trepidation, knowing that I’m going to see Logan today for the first time since that night.
As we walk into the courtyard, I feel a prickling sensation on the back of my neck and shift my gaze to the left, where I spot Mason Reynolds sitting on the bench with a sketchpad on his lap. I was sure I just saw his eyes flick from me to his sketchpad, but I don’t think much of it.
My eyes roam over his attire. He is wearing loose black jeans with Converse sneakers and a gray tweed sweater that looks two sizes too big for him. His brown wavy hair is longer on the top than the sides and constantly drops down to the black-rimmed glasses he wears. Perhaps that is why his hair always has that tousled look, like he has to run his fingers through it constantly to keep it out of his eyes.
He continues to focus on his sketchpad, his hand moving over the page, his eyes focused intently on whatever he is working on. He is pretty attractive, but it’s difficult to really see him. He is always hidden beneath oversized clothing.
I don’t know what it is about Mason, but something about him has always fascinated me. He’s in my AP calculus and literature classes, and even though we have been going to the same schools for the last six years, we have never once spoken to each other. I’ve never seen him in the school cafeteria or at any high school party, and if it weren’t for the fact I have seen him talking to Lily Bennett and Grant Malloy on occasion, I would have thought he was a mute.
He seems to avoid everyone, but he also doesn’t appear to care. He has this air of confidence about him that I’ve always secretly admired, like he is content in his world and doesn’t care for high school’s bullshit politics and hierarchy.
I envy him in that way.
I would love to be invisible today. I have no doubt the whole school knows what went down with Logan and me, and I’m really not in the mood for the whispers and looks of pity that I know will be thrown in my direction.
We stop right by the entrance as a few girls from our cheerleading team approach and fill us in on the latest gossip. I tune out their conversation and scan the courtyard, over to where Mason was sitting, and notice that he is gone but see Logan walking toward us with Eric and Nate in tow.
Oh, hell no!
I am not ready for this shit. Tapping Lyndsey on the shoulder, I let her know I’m going inside then head through the entrance.
When I open my locker, I notice a flower sitting on top of my books and pick it up, studying the layers of pretty pink petals. Placing it under my nose, I inhale the sweet floral scent and feel my mood lift slightly. My eyes dart around the hall as I wonder who it is from and how they got this in here when it suddenly dawns on me.
Fucking Logan.
My mood turns sour, and I scowl at the flower, squashing it with my hand and throwing it at the back of the locker. Feeling eyes on me, I look to my left and see Mason standing in front of his open locker, quickly shifting his focus from me to the inside. He probably thinks I’m insane. What normal girl destroys a beautiful flower in a fit of rage?
The bell rings, and students start filling the halls, going to their lockers, and heading off to class. As I place my books in my carry bag and close my locker, I feel an arm snake around my waist from behind. Spinning around, I come face-to-face with Eric.
