Lizzie parks in Alec’s cul-de-sac. “I’ll wait here. I don’t want him driving you home.”
I nod, my fingers already gripping the door handle. I hold on to it, wondering if I’ll have the strength to step outside, confront Alec.
“I’m here for you, Zee. Here here. Whatever you need.”
“Thank you.” These are the words that come out of my mouth, even though the ones asking her to drive me home are the words searing my brain with their chant.
But then Alec’s front door flies open and he’s running to the car, opening the door for me. He guides me up and into his arms so fluidly I almost forget my confusion. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
The cold air morphs into a cloud of sweet mint and I take a step back, push down his arms. “Don’t.”
He gestures toward his house, the front door hinged open. “Come in?”
Even though the entrance is only steps away I gather all my strength for the journey. Because I have to know. If we’re over. Why he’d hurt me so badly. “Only for a minute.”
“I’ll take your minute.” He attempts a small smile and makes me recall a time when I had only ten minutes for him at Waxman’s, what we’d done then.
A wave of nausea threatens my middle as I wonder how many other girls gave him ten minutes. Or more.
In the foyer, I catch a glimpse of the formal dining room where I sat only last night. How can the house still surge with the fresh, innocent scent of pine when the universe is exploding?
He leads me to his room and I stop short when I hear voices. “Are your parents home?”
“They’re wasted. It’s the only way they can stand each other.” He takes my hand, settles me on the edge of the bed. Kneeling before me, he catches my chin so I see his eyes clearly. Wet as tidal sand. Full of sorrow.
The bed beneath me stirs both sadness and longing. “I can’t stay.”
His gaze pleads. “I wasn’t with that girl, Zephyr. I need you to know that. I’m not saying what I did was right, but I didn’t cheat on you. I would never do that.”
“That’s not what it looked like.”
He hangs his head. “I know what it looked like. I wanted it to look that way.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m an idiot.” He brushes away a teardrop that creeps along his cheek. His eyes meet mine. “I wanted to show you how you hurt me.”
“When have I hurt you like that? I’ve never even looked at another guy.”
“See? You don’t get it. That’s why I needed to teach you a lesson.”
My head kicks back, stung. “What lesson?”
“Sorry, no—that came out wrong.” He squeezes my hand. One of us is clammy, but I don’t care. “Last night was amazing. The best night of my life. You changing all your plans for me—for us, so we could have a future—blew my mind. I was insanely happy.”
“So was I.”
“You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say that.”
“So how did we get here?” I pull my hand away, furious we have slipped so far from that perfection.
His fingers pull at his hair. “I was hurt. I wanted to celebrate with you more, be with you. When you blew me off for Lizzie tonight I was so bummed. I went to Waxman’s, hoping I’d get to see you.”
“It didn’t look like you were trying to find me.”
He holds up his hand. “Let me finish. I saw you in the cafeteria with Slice today. The way he was talking to you.”
“That was about his sister’s wedding. And he talked to me. I can’t control what he does.” I huff, shake out my frustration. “That so doesn’t even matter.”
“I know. I figured it was something meaningless and I didn’t freak. But then you pulled away from my kiss in the caf. It was like you didn’t want anyone to know you were with me but you didn’t care who watched you talking to Slice. And then tonight, I saw you and Slice alone together and then he was hugging you. And then I saw you hug him, Zephyr.”
“So?”
“I’ve told you how much it bothers me that you hang out with him and there you were. You two have years together and we’ll never have those kinds of memories—so to see laughing, talking—I guess I felt like words weren’t going to cut it; I needed to show you how it felt. Make you live it the way I do.
“You have no idea what you do to me. You make me crazy. I lost it. It was all to make you jealous. I thought if you could feel what I feel when I see you with Slice then you’d understand.” His eyes beg mine. “I was selfish, I know, but I want to spend every minute with you and I felt like you didn’t feel the same way. I thought”—he knocks his forehead with the heel of his hand—“I guess I thought if I made you feel the same way—second best or something, then you’d understand. You wouldn’t choose your friends over me.” He bites his lip, pleads at me with his stare. “I was stupid not to think it would backfire.”