Page 145 of The Dollhouse

And then I told Roman everything I needed from him, explaining what I wanted to do. Roman listened, hardly saying a word, and it was only when I asked him what he thought about it all that I got an answer: “I think it’s a good idea. I’ll call Markus and Sylvester in the morning, see what we can do.”

My phone beeped, and I saw it was Wyatt again, trying to call. “Roman, I got to go. But one more thing.” My mind thought back to the one place I missed above all others, the girls, the music… the stage. “I’m going to need a pole.”

“Noted. We’ll see you in a bit.”

I hung up, and I sat there for a while. I had to put my phone on silent. There was no use in talking to Wyatt over the phone or through texts. If Willow sent him the video, along with an angry rant, I might as well try to explain it to him in person. That would be a job for tomorrow.

When Roman and Carter got back, they had a few questions, and I did my best to answer them. The idea had come to me as I’d stormed home, formulated into something possible while I’d stared at the list of events Markus had given us. This was a surefire way of making the Marbella name a joke in Hillcrest, and it would kill my parents.

Not literally, but you know.

After we talked, we moved things into the bedroom. Not having them the last day and a half was like torture, and we took our time in getting reacquainted with each other’s bodies, the hours of the night blending in together. It was almost enough to make me forget just how pissed my family had made me—almost.

Not quite, though.

The next day, I finally responded to Wyatt. I skipped classes, waiting to hear where he wanted to meet with me. I told him we had to talk. It was an understatement, but at least he was amenable to meeting with me. He was a better person than me, because if the positions were reversed, I didn’t think I’d want to see him ever again.

That wasn’t saying I had hope he’d forgive me for what I’d done. I already knew a situation like this was not something you came back from. Betraying someone like that, using someone and lying to them… it wasn’t right. I’d known that from the beginning, and yet I went ahead and did it anyway, hurting a good guy in the process.

Sometimes there had to be casualties. When you fought a war, you had to be prepared for the worst, and I definitely considered this thing against my family a war.

It was around lunchtime when I heard the doorbell go off, and my eyebrows creased when I got up. Who the hell could it be? I didn’t get any texts from Wyatt saying he was on his way, and as far as I knew, we would meet on campus.

My mind went straight to my parents and my sister, and as I went to the door, I wondered if my sister had told my parents where I lived. I wouldn’t put it past her to try to play dirty, but then again, what would she have to gain by setting our parents on me? The damage was done and it could not be undone. Wyatt had so very clearly chosen me, and there was nothing Willow could do about it now.

I made it to the door, checking through the glass beside it to see who it was before opening it, and who I saw made my stomach drop. It wasn’t my parents. It was the most probable person, and yet the person I’d thought I’d see on campus later.

Wyatt.

And his normally bright, happy face wore no expression at all. In fact, for the first time ever, I’d say he was very, very upset with me. For obvious reasons. And it was because of those obvious reasons that he pushed inside before I told him it was all right to come in.

All he said was: “We need to talk.”

Yeah, I think I got that much.

I closed the door, following him through the house. He went to the same room where I’d given him a show, the same room where I’d sat him down and did a little dance for him. Wyatt noted the furniture was different, the black-out curtains were down, and he muttered, “Don’t tell me you decorated this place all for me.” Somehow, it didn’t sound like he really wanted to hear the truth, but he forced himself to be here, anyway.

I studied him, his posture, how his reddish hair looked a little greasy, like he hadn’t showered the previous night. His lips were thin, his hands shoved into the back pockets on his jeans. He wasn’t frowning at me, but he looked tense all the same, and seeing him like this hurt. It hurt me to know I’d done this to him. I’d hurt him. Just because it had been a necessary evil did not make it any less cruel.

“Wyatt, I—” I stopped when I saw Carter peering around from the hall. Roman stood beside him, ready to come in and take care of Wyatt for me, but I shook my head to tell them to stay away. Somehow, I had the feeling that seeing them would only make things worse for Wyatt. I was ready to continue, ready to try to explain myself, but Wyatt spoke first.

“Don’t,” he muttered. He took a step toward me, shaking his head once. “Don’t, Zoey. I trusted you. I trusted you over Willow because I thought you wouldn’t play the type of games she did. I thought you were different than everyone else here.” Softer, he added, “I liked you. I liked you and it was all a game from the beginning, wasn’t it?”

The anger and hurt in his voice were evident, and the raw emotion sliced through me like a hot knife through butter. I spoke, “It wasn’t like that—”

He shook his head again. “No, don’t try to explain. I don’t want to hear any of it. You went and proved that everyone in Hillcrest is the same. I can’t trust a single person in this city, and I owe that realization to you, so thanks. Thanks a lot for proving you’re just like the rest of them.”

But I wasn’t. I wasn’t like them, and I opened my mouth to deny his accusations, but no words came out. No words came out of my mouth, mostly because, right then, I realized he was right.

Wyatt wasn’t wrong when he said I was one of them. As much as I didn’t want to be, as much as I’d tried to separate myself with who I was, my hair and my tattoo, I had been born here—and something like that tended to stain your very soul.

Wyatt wasn’t done talking, for he was busy saying, “I hope it was worth it. I hope you got everything you wanted, and I hope it felt good.” His voice cracked a bit on the last word, like he was holding something back, like he wanted to shout. But he didn’t, because he was Wyatt, and Wyatt was still a gentleman. His calm rage was worse than an outright shout, somehow.

“Wyatt, I—” He didn’t let me get anything else out, for he turned and started to walk away from me, the utter disappointment on his face plain as day. He had worn his heart on his sleeve from the very beginning, and now his heart was broken.

Because of me.

He walked to the front door, and I trailed after him, every part of me wanting to reach out and stop him, tell him how sorry I was, how it had nothing to do with him. That it was all me and my fucked-up reality that had driven me to this point. I wanted to tell him that he was a good guy and he deserved the world, not to mention a girl who was so much better than me.

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