Tyler thought for a minute, fingering his chin. "Recently. End of last semester." He scooted over, closer to me. Something in my expression encouraged him to continue without me questioning further. "So, like, he didn't break them up literally, he just convinced his buddy to dump her. Hilarious, right? I mean, who has the rocks to do that? Only Trip. Classic."
My gaze slid from his face, my vision once more taken over by images of Henry. But this time, the picture included Julia crying on the floor of our kitchen because the guy she loved had disappeared. My vision expanded to show Knightly standing over her, wearing a haughty smile.
"Seemed pretty proud of himself, too," Tyler added.
"He said that?" I blurted. "Henry actually said that?"
"Well, like I said, I don't know the whole story, but … Hey, you were his neighbor. Did you know the chick he dumped? I take it she was a hick." He wrinkled his nose. "Small town. No money."
I knew my face was flushing, heat and fury rolling up from my chest. "Your cousin should learn to mind his own damn business."
Tyler threw his head back and burst out laughing. "I would love to hear you tell him that. Yeah, that'd be really hilarious."
I saw red as I stared at him, and knew I was about to spring from the floor and cause real damage if he kept talking. It was only a matter of time.
"Anyway." Tyler finally stopped hooting. "His buddy's totally free and I'm sure his sweet little ex found herself a new"-he cocked an eyebrow-"stud."
Instead of going all Karate Kid on his ass, I found I had no strength. I dropped my face in my hands, my cheeks and eyelids so hot I was sure my temperature had spiked over a hundred.
"Hey," Tyler said, "you okay?"
"Migraine," I murmured through my hands. "Agony." I stumbled to my feet, pain impeding my vision. I reached for my textbook but only bumped its corner. It fell to the floor and I didn't bother picking it up. "I'm not going tonight." I moved toward the stairs. "I'll tell Mel."
"What about Henry?"
I whipped around, using the last of my strength. "Tell him to go frack himself."
…
Not having the presence of mind to remember that Julia was home in Florida for the week, I called our house first. No answer. After the second time I got voice mail on her cell, I left a message.
"Julia?" I spoke after the tone. "Julia, I'm sorry … sorry I haven't returned your calls this week. I've been … busy. I'm sorry." I rubbed the heel of my hand over my throbbing forehead as I paced around the four-poster bed. Even the faint light from the late afternoon's overcast was killing my eyes. "There's so much I need to tell you, bunny. I'm just … so sorry."
Of course she would not understand why I was frantically apologizing, but betrayal to a friend, even unintentionally, wasn't something one could blurt out over the phone. When I didn't know what else to say, I ended the call.
All the while, Mel was banging at the bedroom door. "Spring? Springer? What do you mean you're not coming?"
I tossed my cell on the bed, and mumbled something through the door about not feeling well.
"Will you be okay?"
I would.
"Do you want me to stay home with you?"
I did not.
"Well, all right," she quietly said. "Grams won't be home until tonight. Will you be okay alone?"
I assured her that I would.
From the window, I heard the faint hum of a motorcycle down below, drawing closer to the house. Two tires on the gravel driveway. Thirty seconds later, Mel's voice was in the living room. Then Knightly's. The sound was nails on a chalkboard that I couldn't drown out. I glanced at the doorknob where my backpack had been hanging earlier with my ear buds inside. I sighed, realizing they were both downstairs. So I sat on the edge of the bed and, to block out that excruciating voice from below, I pressed my hands over my ears.
A few minutes later, I felt the vibration of the front door shutting. I waited, lowering my hands just in time to hear the sound of a car driving away.
They were gone.
I picked up my cell, trying Julia again. Still no answer. I held my hands over my chest, feeling hot and tense, my heart pounding too hard. I tried to breathe but couldn't seem to take in more than tiny puffs of air. Everything hurt.
I felt like a traitor-to Julia, to myself, to everything I believed in. Even though I'd unknowingly been fraternizing with the enemy, I couldn't stop the guilt. To block out that feeling, I concentrated on the anger, the betrayal. The only solace was that it had only been kissing.
Yes, despite what I'd wanted to happen, I'd only kissed him. And it meant nothing. He meant nothing.
Weakness and gravity pushed me onto the pillows, but that made my head throb more fiercely, so I rolled to my side and slid off the bed.
With all the lights off, the living room was murky. Shadows and bits of late afternoon sun broke though the overcast, painting shapes and curves on the eastern wall. At the foot of the stairs I stopped, glancing around the room. My backpack was sitting by the coffee table, the textbook and highlighter I'd dropped lying neatly on top.
Still standing on the last stair, I remembered there was also a bottle of aspirin in my bag, but I couldn't seem to get my feet to move me in that direction. Instead, I stepped forward to the wall by the front door, leaned against it, and slid to the floor, my knees bending in front of my chest.
I shut my eyes, but my brain inside spun so fast I couldn't focus, so I stayed curled in a ball. Less than a minute later, a noise startled me conscious.
I lifted my chin in time to see the front door next to me creak open.
Chapter 26
"Spring?"
I toyed with the idea of saying nothing, hoping he'd give up and back out the way he came.
"Spring? Are you awake?"
"I'm right here." Dumb ass.
Knightly jerked around. "Oh." He exhaled a startled laugh, then cleared his throat. "You're all right?"
"What are you doing here?" I pulled myself to my feet, gazed longingly toward the top of the stairs, but didn't think my legs could carry me all the way up there. So, robot-like, I moved toward the couch.
He was right behind me. "I wanted to check on you. Tyler said-"
"I'm fine."
He stepped in front of me, blocking my way. "You don't seem fine."
My temples throbbed, and while the rest of my body was clammy and cold, it felt like my head was on fire.
The dimness of the room cast a shadow over his frame. I scanned him quickly.
Nothing in his appearance had altered in the last five hours, causing images to flood my mind-images of a certain campfire, a certain gas station, and a face that had been so near to me for so many hours that I could see nothing else every time I closed my eyes.
It was an honest struggle to throw up a mental brick wall before any more memories and feelings could break through. A fresh jolt of anguish struck as I looked into his face now. Longing mingled with antipathy … I didn't have the emotional experience to handle that; my feelings for him were too mixed up, too raw.
"I don't know what to tell you," I said. Stepping around him, I grabbed my backpack and hooked it over one shoulder. The simple gesture of moving made my body twinge in pain. That must've shown on my face.
"What's … ?" Henry asked, sounding alarmed.
When I tried to step around him again, he reached for my hand. The touch of his skin made me flinch. He didn't let go.
I almost said something … but didn't.
Midway through last semester, I'd grown a distaste for arguing with him-not our innocuous debates that often ended with a clearer understanding of each other's views, but the real fights, the rows that left us both in bad moods, worse off.
As I stood before him now, trying my hardest to not look into those chocolaty eyes with the golden flecks, even as the quarrel was building on my tongue … I made a decision to let it pass. I would rather say nothing of it, think nothing of it, than fight. I didn't have the strength. Or the heart.
Once I convinced him that I was fine, he would leave and I would never have to deal with him again.
Yes, it was a cowardly response, but the last thing I wanted to do was feel worse.
"Will you please sit down?" He took my arm and gently persuaded me to the couch. I didn't bother protesting, because it truly felt like my knees were about to buckle. He sat on the next cushion, not too close. Maybe he thought I was carrying something contagious. At least that would keep him at a distance.