Page 86 of The Do-Over

“Are we okay?”

“Um… sure?” His eyebrows went down and he looked at me like I was out of my mind. “I’m kind of in a hurry, so I’ll see you in Chem tomorrow.”

People went around me, bumping and jostling as I just stood there, unmoving. I watched until his head disappeared in the crowd, my heart breaking into a thousand tiny pieces.

“And it didn’t hurt?” Rox was talking about my tattoo as we exited the side door after school. “Man, my mom wouldkillme if I did what you did.”

“I mean, it did, but it wasn’t too bad.” I pictured Nick in the chair to my left, keeping me company while Dante tattooed me.

“Did Nick Stark hold your hand?” she teased, waggling her eyebrows.

“Shut it,” I joked, but for some reason, I hadn’t told my two best friends about everything that happened. No one but Nick and I could ever understand how one day could be so huge; I wouldn’t have believed it myself before it’d happened, and I wasn’t ready to open it up for discussion.

“She’s so mum about the whole thing.” Chris put on his sunglasses and said, “Part of me thinks something major happened.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t find a smile. “Not everyone has a perfect Valentine’s Day with a hottie, Chris.”

Rox said to me, “Can you believe he kissedAlex?”

Chris said, “It was like movie-level shit.”

I was jealous of Chris’s love hangover as I said, “So romantic.”

“Shotgun.” Rox opened the front door of Chris’s car and got in, and I was about to pile in the back when I heard Chris say, “Looks like Em’s tattoo buddy is having car problems.”

I stopped and turned around. The hood to Nick’s truck was up and he was leaning over the side with a can of starter fluid in his hand.

“Screw this.”

“What?” Chris looked at me over his shades.

“Oh—I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” I blinked. “But I deserve a conversation, at least.”

“Em. Um, what?”

Chris and Rox exchanged an is-she-okay look while I unzipped my backpack, pulled out Nick’s big jacket, then dropped the bag onto the ground. “I’ll be right back.”

I walked over to Nick’s truck. “Need me to get in and turn her over?”

He looked up. Swallowed. Said, “Nah, I’m good, but thanks.”

I rolled my eyes. “But if I start it while you hoosh it with fluid, isn’t that way easier?”

“I got it, Emilie.” His voice was clipped, like when I’d asked him about his family after the coffee shop.

“Why are you acting like this? Are you mad at me or something?”

He sighed and shook his head with pursed lips. “No. It’s just—I mean, I told you the other night that I don’t have time for this.”

“For what? I’m not asking you for anything. I offered to help with your—”

“Emilie.” He bit out my name. “It was really fun. It was. A fun day. But it’s a different day now, okay?”

I closed my mouth, mortified. I was about to walk away, but then I changed my mind and said, “So I had an epiphany the other night, after both of my parents screamed at me, grounded me, and vowed to fight to the death in court over who I should live with. Do you know what it was?”

“I don’t—”

“It was that no matter how it turns out—good or bad—I’m going to start living for me and whatIwant, instead of for other people and what I think they want me to do. Because if I don’t, who will?”

---