He shrugs, calling attention to his broad shoulders, which I see are without a jacket today even though it’s cold. His biceps look bigger and firmer too, as if he’s been working out.
He laughs. “We went to the flower market one weekend, and you kept looking at them.”
I tilt my head, truly curious now. Is it possible that for two years, he never really knew me? “But you never asked if they were my favorite.”
He frowns. “I know you better than you know yourself, Sugar.”
He does not know me! Betrayal churns, that familiar feeling I get when I picture him in that car. “I’m not a daisy kind of girl, actually.”
“Oh?” He brushes at a stray hair that’s come loose from my ponytail and tucks it behind my ear. “What flower is your favorite?”
I frown. “I don’t know.”
“See!”
I shake my head. “Maybe I don’t like flowers at all. Maybe I’m a love note person. Maybe I like diamonds instead.”
I didn’t mean to say that last part, about diamonds, but his face brightens. “Do you want to get serious, Sugar? Are you asking for a ring?”
WHAT? I feel myself recoiling.
“No.”
He pauses. “I don’t understand what’s wrong with you. You’re grouchy. Are you PMSing?”
I sigh at his obliviousness. “Bennett, it’s not me who’s wrong. It’s you. Yeah, maybe we weren’t right for each other and that’s what pushed you to have sex with that girl, but we…we are over.”
His expression grows earnest as he comes closer to me until there’s only a hair’s breadth between us. “We didn’t go all the way. If you’d give me a chance to explain—”
“It doesn’t matter, don’t you see? There is no hardline definition of what cheating is to me. You. Were. With. Her.”
He shakes his head, trying to deny it, but I won’t stop, not now that words are spilling out, and I think I’m glad to say them. Perhaps I shouldn’t have waited so long to have this conversation with him.
“Maybe we worked before, but we grew apart,” I say, keeping my voice low. “You want me to be someone I’m not, and when I didn’t give you what you wanted, you looked to someone else. Whether or not you actually penetrated her vagina is irrelevant. Eventually you would have gone all the way anyway—with lots of girls, probably—until I found out. I can’t…I just can’t let that go.”
“Please, Sugar.” His hand is on my arm, tugging, and my half-empty red slushie spills to the ground.
He barely notices.
I pull back from him and he shakes his head and rakes a hand through his hair, pacing around me, slicing his hands through the air to emphasize his point. “I just need you with me, supporting me. I need a full-time girlfriend. After we graduate, I’ll be on the road and I want you with me.”
I’m not his main groupie! But I don’t say that. I want to keep this civil.
“You need someone to pat your head and tell you how awesome you are.”
He stops and scowls, his lips tightening. “That’s mean. I don’t even know who you are anymore.”
I pick up my empty drink cup and tuck it inside my backpack. At least I’m not going to litter. “Have a nice life, Bennett. Truly.”
“Don’t say that.” He walks back to me and grabs my elbow, his grip tighter than it should be, and I look down at his strong, tanned hand, the one that’s cupped my face a hundred times. My eyes linger on the silver infinity ring on his finger, the one I bought him for his birthday. His gaze follows mine and he loosens his grip. “Shit. I’m sorry if I hurt you.” He caresses my arms and grabs my hand. “And the ring? I still wear it, Sugar. I still love you and I’m just trying to prove it. I want to work this thing out—”
“Let her go.” The low male voice comes from behind me and we both turn.
Z.
His face is hard as granite, his body coiled and tense as he stares at our joined hand.
Bennett gives him a once-over and stiffens beside me. “Move on, dude. This doesn’t concern you.”
Somehow in the middle of this, I find it funny that Bennett doesn’t recognize him right away. He isn’t a hockey guy.
Lightning goes off in Z’s grey eyes. Stormy and swirling with anger, they blaze as they bounce from me to Bennett. Two quick strides and he’s right in front of us. “She happens to be with me, so in fact, yeah, it does concern me.”
I let go of Bennett’s hand and close my lids briefly, part of me angry with Bennett for putting me in this position and the other side of me pissed at Z for throwing our “relationship” in his face.
Bennett inhales sharply. He’s puffed up now, ready to tangle, and his face is as hard as Z’s as he looks from me to him.
They face off, and for the first time, I see that they’re almost the same height with Bennett being about two inches shorter at six four. If they did tangle, it might be interesting, except Bennett only works out to look good, whereas Z does it so he can squash his opponent.
I see the moment Bennett figures out who Z is. He gets a surprised look on his face and then glares at me. “So this is who you’re seeing and why you’ve been avoiding me? Some jock?”
I inhale a deep breath and pick up my book bag. My gaze sweeps over them. “I’m avoiding you because there’s no point.”
They both turn to look at me, and I move fast, gliding past Z. I pause in front of him and want to say something, but I can’t. Not here, not now.
I take a step back from Z, annoyed, and Bennett gets a look of triumph on his face until I point my finger at him. “Don’t put your hands on me again.”
Bennett pales. “I’m sorry—”
I don’t even wait for the rest.
I stalk off.
I haven’t gone ten steps when I feel Z next to me, and I don’t make it easy for him. I’m moving at a fast pace, trying to get to class and get myself as far from him as I can. He’s hurt me and seeing Bennett just reminds me of that.
He keeps up, his arm occasionally brushing against mine as we walk together. A couple of guys pass us and call out, “Good game!” and we keep going. We even keep moving when a group of girls shout, “Z!” and waggle their fingers at him while giving me the evil eye.
“Are you going to speak to me?” he finally asks.
I speed up.
“The gardenias? What happened? Talk to me.”
Annoyance boils inside me, but still my lips are clamped shut. Taylor and Poppy are ahead of me, coming my way, and there’s a questioning look in their wide eyes as we pass each other, their gazes bouncing from me to Z. I shake my head at them to not interrupt. I want to have this fight with him, even if I am a silent participant.
We walk a few more paces and he says, “I really can’t read minds, you know.”
My anger rises to the surface, and that’s it. I come to a full stop, not even caring that people are having to move around us. “I’m just so happy to learn I’m not anyone special to you.”
Understanding dawns in his eyes and his lips compress, a hard look growing on his face. “Someone told you something.”
I laugh. “Yes, and it was so nice to discover my gift is one you send to every girl you date—when it’s over.”
His mouth flattens. “Veronica. She’s the only one who would care enough to be mean.”
“So it’s true?”
He frowns, looking discomfited. “Yes, I sometimes send girls roses, but not gardenias, and not when it’s over. I send them whenever I want. Whatever she told you, I’m sure she twisted it to fit her agenda. She’s wanted me for a long time, and I…” He pauses. “But I’ve never in my life gone to a flower shop and picked out exactly the flower that fit a girl, that smell like her.”
He exhales and pinches the bridge of his nose.
Okay, okay, that makes sense, and Veronica does have her own agenda. Even I can see that.
But…
“You haven’t even texted me since we were together…” I stop, my hands clenching.
Don’t be needy, Sugar.
His gaze searches mine. “I know. That night was so… I don’t have words.” He grimaces and looks down at the ground before coming back up to meet my eyes. “I had a game on Saturday, and I just thought maybe I needed some space, you know, a clear head so I could play my best. ”
Well.
Space?
And here I was, thinking about our night and even though I hadn’t really admitted to myself yet, part of me was willing to…I don’t know…see what was going on with us. So stupid. I take off walking again. “Fine. Take some time and process it. I’m done with your bullshit.”
He follows along beside me and several people walk by, staring at us. Even though I’m not looking at him, I feel his unease. It’s in the way he sighs and keeps looking over at me. Whatever.
He keeps up with me, and dammit, he smells so good.
“Look, I was jealous of your daisies, and I wanted to give you something that was more you …” Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as his chest heaves and he stops talking.
I turn. “I don’t even care about that now. Also, I don’t need you to pretend to be my boyfriend anymore.”