Page 24 of The Consequence of Loving Me

“The Liams have been asking about you.” My mom pauses, waiting for a response from me.

Except, I have none.

I’m stuck in a moment that happened years ago. A moment that came and went. A moment that took most of me with it when it left.

My hands are clammy as they grip the phone. She just betrayed me. She knows not to bring them up. To never bring them up. It’s a punch to my gut—no, to my throat—when I hear that name.

I don’t even say goodbye. Like a child, I hang up the phone and throw it across my bed in an attempt to escape her and her meddling.

The phone makes a soft thump against my fluffy white comforter. I wish I could have thrown it down on hard concrete, shattering the phone in pieces. Anything to ensure my mother could never mutter that last name again.

No matter how hard I fight against them, the memories rush in—and I am paralyzed.

14

Veronica

Four Years Ago

It’s three a.m., and I’ve had one of the best nights of my life. After spending hours at a local arcade, Connor and I have ended up in a small diner outside of town.

“So, you’re cooler than I thought,” Connor says, taking a long pull from the straw to his milkshake.

I am fascinated by the way his cheeks pull together when he takes a drink, his lips working strongly against the straw.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask sarcastically, taking a drink of my own milkshake.

“I don’t know,” he mumbles. “You just seem...uptight all the time.”

“Uptight?” My voice comes out in a screech, making my own ears cringe.

He laughs. “Yeah, very uptight. And well, you kind of come off as a bitch.”

My mouth hangs open. I’ll be the first to admit it, I’m not the nicest girl at East Point, but I didn’t think I came off as a bitch to strangers.

His pink bowtie has been loosened around his neck, and the red lights of the diner reflect off his face. He stares at me, allowing me time to work through his comment in my head.

“I guess I don’t really care what people think about me.” I look away from him, staring down at my red dress. My mother and I had so much fun picking it out a month ago. It’s made of a deep red satin material. The neckline plunges between my cleavage, or lack of cleavage. At the waist, it cinches in and then flares out in an A-line shape, making my already slim waist appear even slimmer.

“Is that just something girls say to appear tough, but deep down they really do care?” He dips a fry into his chocolate milkshake, and I crinkle my nose at the mix of flavors.

I shrug. “I don’t let people get close enough to know the real me. If they don’t know who I really am, then I don’t care about their opinion of me.”

The waitress comes over, asking us if we need anything. We both shake our head before she retreats back to the kitchen. The diner has an older couple on the side of the restaurant, along with an old man sitting alone a few booths down from us. Other than that, it’s empty.

“But why wouldn’t you just let people see that you might not be the huge bitch that they all think you are?” His face is full of confusion. I feel weird under his gaze.

I lather my tater-tot in ketchup, popping it into my mouth and slowly chewing. He watches me, waiting for a response. “Maybe I am a bitch.”

His lips pull into the smile I’m quickly becoming a fan of. “Maybe,” he retorts. “But somehow I think there’s more to you than meets the eye.”

My heart starts to race in my chest, and I want to flee this diner and get away from him. He can see me, see past my exterior I’ve built, and I don’t like it. I’d rather keep everyone at arm’s length. I’m a fan of shallow relationships, neither party delving too deep into the psyche of the other, but somehow, I think that Connor only keeps his relationships deep.

I shrug, trying to come off more nonchalant than I feel. “No one ever sticks around long enough to see.”

I hesitantly watch the slow rise of his shoulders. He stares at me, his eyes slightly narrowing, and it feels like he can see every thought or feeling I’ve ever had.

“What if I want to?” His stare only becomes even more intense, which I didn’t even know was possible. The diner is quiet, and it’s quite possible that even from across the booth, he can hear my heart slamming against my chest.

---