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I think about what I would have done back then and roll my eyes, trying to come off as bored, but it justhurts me even more. I want to be cheering for Maya, she deserves this, and I was too blind to notice it before.
Not able to take it anymore. I get up and leave, sending a text to Dalton:
Don’t follow me.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Natalie
I wake up with my stomach in knots, thinking about Trish. If there’s ever anyone who I would think would tell on me, it’s her, especially when it comes to Dalton.
After that encounter, I kept my fair distance from Dalton, never going back to the table, making sure if anyone she might have told saw us, they would think she was crazy, and any rumors would stop there.
My phone dings with a message. I close my eyes and take a deep breath when I see it’s Dalton. His texts used to make me so happy, but now, I’m even more confused.
Morning.
Morning.
I’m sorry I didn’t get to kiss you good night.
Chills rush through my body at the thought of his kiss. It’s better than any kiss I’ve ever had, but I can’t keep doing this. Even though it kills me to do so, I text back.
We need to talk.
Instantly, he replies.
No we don’t. Everything will be fine.
I let out a sigh. I love that he’s willing to fight for me and knew exactly where I was going with that, but it doesn’t change anything.
You don’t understand. My family is my everything.
You’re right. I don’t understand. My family doesn’t give a crap about me.
My heart breaks for him. I can’t believe we were raised so differently.
This is our lives. Not theirs. Don’t forget that. I really like you. And I know you like me too.
I can’t take this feeling inside me anymore. I’ve never been so torn in my life. I text back.
I have to go. I’ll call you later.
I don’t wait for his reply when I put my phone on silent and walk out to my living room, leaving it on my bed, face down.
The smell of bacon wafts through the air, which doesn’t help my emotions one bit. I wonder if Dalton has ever woken up to Sunday morning breakfast. It’s a tradition in our household, without fail. It’s something I’ve grown to treasure, and I know I’ll miss it when I go to college.
I turn the corner to see my mom swaying her hips slightly to the music that plays overhead in our kitchen.
“Morning, Mom,” I say as I slide onto a kitchen stool and pull my foot up next to me.
She drops the spatula and walks toward me with a big grin on her face. “Good morning, sweetheart.” She kisses my forehead and gives me a hug. “How was the dance?”
Thankfully, they were in bed when I got home, so I got to slip in with just a simple good night from both of them.
My heart hurts that I can’t tell her what happened. My entire life, I’ve told her everything, sometimes in too much detail, so not being able to talk to her now kills me.
So, yet again, I lie, “It was fun.”
