Page 82 of American Beauty

Not one damn bit.

Magnolia’s eyes lift, our gazes locking, and everything changes. Her smile and laughter die, and her entire body goes stiff. Her lips part, and those hazel eyes widen in disbelief… then narrow with something.

What is that? Shock? Anger? A little of both?

She stops mid-step, staring at me. For a split second, I swear I see something softer—something like longing—but it vanishes as quickly as it appears.

He looks between us, his brow furrowing. “Everything okay, Mags?”

Mags.

I hate that too.

Magnolia blinks, her expression shifting into something flat.

“Yeah. He’s just someone I used to know.”

Damn. That stings.

She stops a few feet away, arms wrapping around her torso like she’s bracing for impact. “Alex.”

I nod, shoving my hands into my pockets, unsure what to do with them. “Magnolia.”

Her classmate lingers a step behind her, eyes bouncing between us like he’s watching a tennis match.

“I need to talk to you.”

Her brow lifts, and for a moment, she just stares at me. “Sonowyou want to talk?”

Her tone is sharp, edged with something that digs under my skin and festers. It sounds like she’s implyingI’mthe one who went radio silent, the one who disappeared without a trace.

Frustration bubbles up inside me, but I force it down. “I’ve wanted to talk to you for months.”

She lets out a humorless laugh, rolling her eyes. “Right. You sure have a funny way of showing it.”

I blink, thrown off by the bitterness in her words. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She shakes her head, looking away, jaw tight. “You know what? Don’t worry about it. Not that you ever did.”

I step closer, lowering my voice. “Don’t tell me not to worry about it. Not after everything.”

Her eyes snap back to mine, blazing with anger. “I can’t believe you have the nerve to come here… or to say that to me.”

Her words land like a slap. How does she get to be the one who’s angry whenshe’sthe one who cut me loose?

What the fuck is happening here?

This is not my Magnolia.

It’s like I’m talking to someone else.

Her eyes lock on mine, challenging me.

My gaze drops for half a second—just enough to confirm what I already suspected. She isn’t wearing the pendant I gave her. The one she said she’d never take off.

A sharp pang hits me right smack in the center of my heart. I’m not sure why I hoped she would still wear it.

“Can we go somewhere and talk?”

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