Page 6 of It's in the Contract
A kiss.
My heart stops. “Noah . . .” I trail off, my voice small. Tom and a few of the boys at his table snicker. A girl named Charity at a table to my left stares at us, her mouth open, like she can’t look away from the train wreck unfolding around her. Katrina gives me a smirk that makes me want to smack her horsey face.
“Hey, babelicious,” Noah says after ungluing his lips from Brielle’s. My fists curl at my sides. That’smynickname. Brielle smiles and doesn’t take her eyes off of me.
“So you’re breaking up with me—” I choke on the words. “To be with her?”
Everyone will be watching to see how I react, and what I do will be talked about for weeks. I blink back the angry tears gathering in the corners of my eyes. I have to keep it together, no matter how much I’m hurting.
The smile I plaster on my face feels like burnt butterscotch—sickly sweet with notes of heat. “So that’s it. We’re done.”
I decide in this moment that Noah will never see how much he has hurt me. He will not see a girl with a broken heart, shoved into depression by a stupid boy.
He’s going to see a queen.
“He was never worthy of you, Callie,” Suzy says. “Not if he’s going to pull a jerkwad move like this.” Her voice is acid. Dana glares at Brielle.
“What a gorgeous couple you make,” I say in my most upbeat voice, which comes easily after years of cheer. “You definitely deserve each other.”
Noah frowns, confused.
Brielle’s eyes light up. “We do, don’t we?” She looks me up and down. “You look great today, by the way. Not many people could pull off an outfit reminiscent of raw salmon, but you totally rock the look.” Her smile is barbed. Katrina laughs.
My teeth grind together, and I can’t help but glance down at my pink tights and gray sweater dress—the outfit I so carefully assembled this morning.
Brielle turns her face toward Noah, nuzzling her nose into his cheek. He can’t wrap his arms around her since he’s holding so much food, and it looks awkward, but my stomach still churns.
I take a seat, my limbs feeling like they’re encased in ice. That’s it, then. It’s over. I’m not going to beg him, I’m not going to ask him why or how, not in front of everyone. I try to turn my attention to my lunch, which is looking more and more unappetizing.
“I am just so proud of the work I’m doing,” Brielle brags.
Suzy growls. “Just leave us alone.”
“Girls all over the country feel better about themselves and their image because of me,” Brielle says. “Did you hear about my pageant over the summer? I won Miss Plus Size Washington.”
I force myself to take a bite of steamed broccoli before responding. I practically gag. “Congrats.” I look up in time to see Noah press a kiss to Brielle’s temple. Oh barf.
“And she’s almost up to 200,000 followers on Insta!” Katrina cries. “Where are you at?” Brielle smiles at me sweetly, but I see the villainous shine in her eyes.
As if they both don’t already know the answer to that. I clear my throat. “50K.”
“Oh. How sad.” Brielle’s lower lip sticks out in a pout.
I grab my tray and stand. “Bye.” I stalk away. Let people talk; I can’t be here anymore.
I see out of the corner of my eye Suzy following after me, and I hear a second set of footsteps as well. Probably Dana. I feel bad taking her away from Troy, but I’m also immensely grateful for her support. To my surprise, when I glance behind me, I see that Kayla has risen and joined our group as well. Brielle and Noah can have our table. I don’t care.
I scan the cafeteria for an open seat. The room is quiet, and all eyes are on me. I blink away the moisture in my eyes.
“Wow.” Suzy mutters something in Korean under her breath, and I recognize some of the expletives Suzy taught me when we were kids, giggling behind her parents’ couch while we ate sour patch watermelons from the bag.
I stare around the lunchroom. People are whispering and giggling behind their hands. Some are huddled over their phones, probably already posting the gossip to social media.
Why are there no empty tables?
A hard lump rises in my throat, and my face burns. I turn, looking around the room. Finally, I spot an empty table and practically sag in relief. There’s only one boy sitting there with dark skin and curly black hair. I know almost everyone in school, and I’m sure I’ve never seen him before. He’s alone at his table, engrossed in a novel thicker than my calculus textbook. The boy looks up at me and meets my eyes, and his are warm and brown. He nods to the empty chairs next to him.
Gratitude rushes through me, and I start towards his table. A hand on my shoulder jerks me back, and I turn to see Kayla.
