Page 91 of The Second Kiss
Whatever I thought I was going to say is gone. I’m as stunned as Brad must have been when he hit the floor. If I wanted confirmation of how Jacob viewed our relationship, here it is.
“Little sister, little sister, little sister.”
Matt’s chiding comes from behind me. I spin around, wondering how much he heard or saw. “I never imagined I’d have something this big to hold over your head.” He whistles. “You look like hell. Do you have any idea what Mom and Dad would do to you if they found out what you’ve been up to tonight?”
As soon as we get home I go up to my room and dig the locket out of my jewelry box. I lie on my bed without changing my clothes and rub it between my fingers, across my aching head and then press it against my lips. The room is spinning and I’m sick to my stomach. I'm not sure if it's from the drinking or something more. I can’t stop thinking about what Jacob said and the way he looked at me. I want to cry, but nothing comes.
Maybe I've shed too many tears over him already.
I think back to all the times I imagined his voice in my head. All the times when I pressed the locket to my lips to remind myself that someone cared about me. I carried him with me, around my neck for years, thinking about the fifteen-year-old boy who cared about me enough to give me a locket, enough to give me a kiss.
What if it wasn’t really Jacob? What if it was me? Stronger than I thought I was. Fighting to make myself okay.
All by myself.
Jacob wasn’t there when I went out for track, ignoring the behind-my-back snickers and fat jokes. He wasn’t there the first time I ran a mile and had to go to the bushes to throw up. He wasn’t there when I stood up to Brad and turned my back on the popularity I’d worked so hard to gain in favor of my own self-respect.
He wasn’t there, not really, only in my mind. When he came back, I convinced myself that I couldn’t live without him. That I still needed him. That I needed to know he still cared about me.And he does care, just not the way I hoped he would. For some reason, that hurts more than thinking I mean nothing to him.
I've been stupid for so long. First with Brad and then with Jacob and then with Nate, then back to Jacob and tonight, Brad again. Nothing I tried to be or change or prove got me anywhere, except right back where I started–back to all the insecurity and trying to be something I'm not.
Jacob is right. No guy is worth losing myself over.
Not even him.
forty-five
Promposal
Idon’t have the poster-making skills that Jasmine acquired in three years of cheerleading, but I do my best to make it look nice–lots of color, even a little glitter. I buy flowers and her favorite candy, and wait for her on her front porch after she gets home from cheer practice.
I’m stupidly nervous, even though it’s not like I’m asking her on an actual date–I haven’t changed that much. I’ve been out of it for a while, and Jasmine has never had any shortage of guys waiting in the wings. Still, I think I would have heard if she had a date for Prom.
She laughs when she sees the poster and gives me a big hug. “Me and you, Prom huh? Sounds enchanting. She bats her eyes. “I’d be honored.” Then she stops. “How would you feel about a three-some?”
My heart falls; she has a date. I force myself to smile. “Sure, if you don’t mind a tag-along. Who is the lucky guy?”
“Taryn,” she says.
“Taryn? What about Ryder?” I’m confused; Taryn and Ryder have been an item since New Year's. Why wouldn’t they be going to Prom together?
“They broke up last Friday. Poor thing cried on my bed for two hours,” Jasmine says. She doesn’t point out that I was out with Brad, making an idiot out of myself that night. Or that it’s been ages since I spent time with Jasmine or Taryn. She doesn’t have to.
“So, girls' night out?” I ask.
“Definitely, babe. Who needs a man anyway?” Jasmine hugs me again, and I do my best to ignore the empty ache in my chest.
“Jess?” The voice on the other end of the line isn’t familiar, but she sounds desperate and slightly terrified. “Jessica Roberts?”
The whole situation feels off, so I hesitate for a minute before I answer. “Yeah, I’m Jess.”
There are a few long seconds of silence before she speaks again. “You don’t know me, but a friend of yours said you might help me.”
“What friend?” I’m suspicious. It would be just like Brad to put someone up to this.
Her voice wavers. “I told her I wouldn’t say.”
“Who is this?” I’m ready to hang up.
