Page 2 of A Little Complicated

My smile widens as I answer the call. “Hello?”

“Hey,” his low voice rumbles.

“Hey,” I repeat.

Silence.

My brows pinch. “Everything okay?”

“I’m, uh, I’m not going to make it tonight.”

“What’s going on?” I turn away from Dylan’s concerned stare and face the empty shower instead. “We talked an hour ago, and you told me you’d be coming right after your doctor’s appointment.”

“I know what I said,” he mutters, his concession laced with defeat. “Look.” He hesitates. “This is a bad idea.”

“What?Prom?”

Silence.

“Okay, so we won’t go,” I offer. “It was your idea anyway.”

“You know what I mean, Goose.” The stupid pet name doesn’t give me any warm fuzzies, and I close my eyes.

Is this really happening?

My bedroom door closes with a quiet click, ringing louder than a siren, pulling me back to our conversation. With a quick look over my shoulder, I find the room empty. Dylan must’ve slipped out, sensing my need for privacy.

The girl’s a saint.

Who would’ve thought I’d need it right now.

Shifting my cell to my other ear, I let out a slow breath and walk into my now-empty bedroom. A chill falls over my skin. My body is on full alert, my muscles poised for fight or flight despite not being in any danger. It’s like my body already knows what I don’t want to accept, and a tremor races along my spine.

“Seriously, what’s going on, Mav?” I ask. “Where are you? Are you close yet? Maybe we can talk about this in person.”

“Ophelia…”

The silence following my full name sears me, and I collapse onto the edge of my bed. I don’t like it. The quiet. The heaviness. The way my skin feels tight and cold, then hot and uncomfortable. “Are you breaking up with me?”

Another beat of silence passes, and nausea churns in my stomach.

“Are you breaking up with me?” I repeat. My voice is stronger this time, but even I can hear the twinge of desperation. It makes me sound so immature. So stupid. Of course, it does. I might be a senior in high school, but Mystery Man? He’s in college. The fact he even gave me the time of day is a miracle. I mean, to be fair, I kind of jumped his bones and didn’t exactly expect it to turn into anything in the beginning, but now that it has? Well, he got my hopes up, dammit.

The silence continues stretching, and my nerves get the best of me, so I push, “Just answer the question.”

“We were never together,” he rasps. “Not officially.”

“Says the guy who told me I’m his, right? Yeah, it makes this so much better.” I mock. “You’re ending things over the phone and bailing on me an hour before my senior prom after twisting my arm to let you take me in the first place. Gee, thanks. You’re a real peach.”

“You don’t think I already feel like shit?”

“Then don’t bail on me,” I beg. “My parents, and my sister, and Dylan? They’re all dying to officially—”

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” he interrupts.

“Harder than it has to be?” I look down at my dress. “I’m literally sitting on my bed in my prom dress. My makeup is done. I curled my hair. None of which would’ve happened if you hadn’t asked me in the first place.”

“Look, I know how fucked-up this is. I know what I said when I asked you, and…I’m sorry. I know it isn’t enough, but…I’m sure you can find someone else to take you.”

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