The Fine Art of Pretending (31 page)

After an admission like that, Justin deserves so much better.

I squeeze my eyes shut and whisper, “I can’t do this.”

“Go to Homecoming?” The confusion is evident in his voice. “Okay… I thought girls were obsessed with that kind of thing, but we definitely don’t have to. What do you want to do instead?”

I shake my head and throw it into his chest. From behind a wall of blackness, I force myself to be honest. “No, I don’t mean Homecoming. I mean us. I can’t do this.”

Laughter from downstairs floats under the door, and his body goes still next to mine.

I lift my head and crack an eye open.

Shadows dance across his face from the flickering movie screen, revealing taut lips and a tense jaw, his emotions completely shuttered.

“What do you mean?” His words are slow and careful, and the abrupt change twists my stomach. But I know hurting him now is better than hurting him later. And that’s exactly what I’m doing. Hurting him.

Without meaning to, I’ve been toying with Justin’s feelings, using him to meet a stupid, self-imposed goal. What I did was selfish and unforgiveable, but now I
need
to try and make things right.

Calling on every ounce of courage in me, I press on, digging my nails into the fleshy palms of my hands. “I like you, Justin. A lot. More than I expected, which, considering I’ve been borderline obsessed with you since right before the camping trip, is saying something.” I stop to take another breath and see his mouth soften a fraction. “Karaoke night? The change in clothes? I did those things to get your attention.”

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and I offer a tiny smile. “I thought if I could get you to notice me, everything would fall into place. But, Justin, you need to know that as often as I imagined being with you, the reality blows every fantasy I’ve had out of the water.”

Justin’s body relaxes, reminding me that I have gotten off-track.

“
But
,” I say, wincing when his face shuts down again. “It’s not fair to you to keep going out. Not when my head is so messed up.” I wet my lips, knowing I have to say this next part. For the first time in six weeks, it’s time to be honest. But I dread the look on his face. Closing my eyes, I say, “Not when I’m in love with Brandon.”

Admitting it aloud to Justin is almost as painful and embarrassing as confessing it to Brandon would be, and when I hear no other reaction other than a few shallow breaths, I get scared.

“Justin, I’m so, so sorry.” Fearing what I’m doing, how I’m feeling, everything I’m giving up, I throw my arms around his neck and bury my head into his chest. “God, I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. Was it wrong to say anything? It’s like I’m watching us from a distance and I’m screaming at myself to shut up, that you’re a great guy, but I just can’t do it!”

The soft cotton of his shirt grows wet with my tears, and I cling to him, waiting for him to speak or do something. Knowing I deserve whatever he gives me.

Will he be hurt?

Of course he will
.

Will he be angry with me? Yell?

All the possibilities are scary, but the nothingness is far worse.

After what feels like an eternity, Justin brushes my hair back and props a finger under my chin. He waits until I reluctantly open my eyes before exhaling a long, minty breath.

“It wasn’t wrong to say anything.” His voice is slightly guarded, but his eyes are understanding. “I think I would’ve liked to stay in the dark a little longer, but I appreciate your honesty.” His voice cracks, somewhere between a sob and a laugh. “Shit. Relationships suck.”

Anger would have been better.

If he were angry, at least I could’ve maybe defended myself. And later, while crying into my Oreos, I could hold onto it and tell myself things weren’t that bad. That he wasn’t as great as I thought he was.

But
this
?

This I can’t handle.

My chest tightens, my stomach sinks, and I crumble. A sob hitches in my throat, and my ears buzz. I shake my head roughly, choking the words out. “No. No, they don’t, Justin. Please don’t—don’t give up on relationships because of me. I used you, and I was wrong. You’re amazing.”

I press my face into his chest again, my shoulders shaking uncontrollably. After a few ragged breaths, I ask, “Is there any way you can forgive me?” I look up at him, suck in my lips, and drag my hand across my face. “Do you think we can ever be friends again someday?”

Justin heaves a heavy sigh and kisses the top of my head. “We’re friends now, Aly.”

He tightens his arms around me, and I give him a watery smile. He attempts a grin in return, and we stare at each other in silence.

I want to make things better, to lighten things up and somehow make it so that he doesn’t leave this room hating me. But there is nothing I can do or say. I can’t come back from this. I can’t make it right.

At least not tonight.

Justin gives me a tight smile, then stands and shoves his hands into his pockets, looking uncomfortable. He walks to where he’d kicked off his shoes and slips them back on. Turning around, he puffs out his cheeks and snaps his fingers together. “I’m gonna go. I guess.”

I meet him at the entryway of the media room and put my hand out, closing the door he’d just opened. I wrap my arms around him in one last hug. Holding him tight with my ear against his chest, I can hear and feel his uneven breathing, and my waterworks kick on again.

He kisses the top of my head and gently pushes me back. He slips through the door without a word, closing it firmly behind him, leaving me all alone.

Sinking against the door, I let the sobs overtake me.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 18TH

2 weeks until Homecoming

BRANDON
FAIRWOOD CITY PLAYGROUND, GYMNASIUM, 12:20 p.m
.

The
metal doors bang shut. Aly treks across the squeaky floor, arms wrapped so tightly around herself you’d think it was January instead of summer in hot-as-hell Texas, and I watch from lowered lashes.

I flip the pages of the playbook, trying to appear busy as she plops down at the table beside me. Across the room, Baylee and Kaitie laugh, the sound highlighting just how silent the two of us are.

“Should be an easy win today,” I say, grasping at straws. She hasn’t even looked at me.

Aly nods stiffly, keeping her head down.

Huffing in frustration, I throw down the clipboard and squat in front of her. “How long are we—” I break off at the sight of her bloodshot eyes and immediately change direction. “What happened?”

She shrugs and looks away. “Allergies.”

“Allergies, huh?”

She grabs the clipboard and starts writing like crazy, her white-knuckled grip on the pencil dangerously close to snapping it in two. Seeing happy-go-lucky Aly upset is bad enough, but having no idea why just shows how far we’ve drifted the last few weeks.

Aly lifts her eyes and, seeing I’m not going anywhere, sets the pencil down. “What do you want, Brandon?” She sounds exhausted, and her shoulders sag in defeat.

I crouch lower to search her red-rimmed eyes. “I want to know what’s wrong. Are you sick? Hurt?” Aly looks away, and I grasp her chin, forcing her to meet my eyes. “Tell me what’s going on.”

She sighs. “I’m fine.”

Jerking her jaw out of my grip, she picks the pencil back up, obviously assuming I’ll let it go at that pathetic attempt. Her eyes dart to my chest, shoulders, and feet while she scribbles, her bouncing leg shaking the whole table.

Our entire friendship has been about honesty, calling each other on our bullshit. She calls me on mine all the time. Every day we spend not talking is torture, like my soul is inside-out and my nerves are being sliced by an electric can opener. I need to fix this. I need to find out why she’s so upset, make it better, and get her back in my life.

“Really?” I ask, letting my frustration bleed into my voice. “On your
word
?”

Aly’s head snaps up. It’s the first time I’ve ever used the expression. I’ve never had to before because Aly’s always confided in me willingly. Using it now, knowing she’s holding back, hurts more than the silent treatment.

A range of emotions flickers across her face before she finally answers. “No, not on my word.” She drops the damned pencil again and folds her arms on the plastic tabletop, laying her head down without breaking eye contact. “Justin and I broke up last night.”

The thrill the words shoot through me is short-lived as I take notice of her pale, splotchy skin and puffy eyes. I was there when she broke up with Adam. She was a mess, consoling herself with endless chick flicks and mountains of chocolate, but she still never looked this bad. For her to be this upset over Justin, she must’ve fallen for him.

“I knew this would happen.” Even as the words come out, I know I’m handling this wrong, but I can’t seem to stop. Turns out, jealousy’s a bitch. It makes my voice hard and cold as I say, “I warned you, didn’t I? But you wouldn’t listen. You were obsessed with that fucking
Wall of Shame
, and look what it got you.”

A block of ice settles on my chest as soon as the words are out. The jealous, raging monster finally broke loose, verbally spewing hate on the one person who matters most. Aly’s eyes fill with pain, and I know
I’m
the reason it’s there. I vowed to protect her. Now I’m the one hurting her.

I really am a monster
.

She bolts up, knocking the metal chair to the ground. “And you know everything, right, Brandon?” Her head falls back, and I watch in horror as tears spill onto her cheeks. It cripples me. “Who in the hell are
you
to lecture me? Have you
ever
put yourself out there and taken a chance?”

Her gorgeous blue eyes, full of tears, knock me on my ass. “No,” I murmur with a shake of my head. She knows better than anyone that I haven’t. “Aly, please, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know—”

She laughs, a watery sound bubbling in her throat. “No, you don’t know.”

Too scared to open my mouth again and make it worse, but terrified of doing
nothing
, I stand and move to take a step forward. She throws her palms up to stop me. “I’m going home. Can you handle this alone?”

I nod, my heart thumping in my ears, my chest so tight my breaths are sawing in and out.

What the fuck just happened?

Aly storms to the double doors at the back of the gym, and I rake my fingers through my hair. Glaring sunlight carves a hole in the dim gym, and right before she steps out, Aly glances back, an unreadable expression replacing her anger.

Self-loathing consumes me.

If I had kept my mouth shut, none of this would have happened. Not our fake hookup. Not the kiss or pretend date. Not the fights or the distance between us.

And Justin would’ve never had a chance to hurt her.

My body shakes with the need to make him pay and the knowledge that I failed to keep it from happening. I check the clock on the scoreboard and square my shoulders. I won’t fail her again.

In a little over two hours, the guys and I are meeting at Oakdale Park for a friendly game of football. Justin might think he can get away with treating girls like trash, but he’s about to learn that, when it comes to Aly, all bets are off.