Page 78 of Faux Real
KENNEDY
Getoutofmyhead!
I’ve reread the same damn sentence in my history textbook five times. Five fucking times! This must be some sort of record. I have never been so distracted in my life. And the most frustrating aspect of my current predicament is that I’m not even distracted by the fact Sawyer thinks I have no heart or that he’s probably genuinely in love with Corrine. No, that’s not the issue. I wish itwerethe issue,thatwould make sense,thatwould be logical.
But no.
The source of my scattered concentration ishim. Stupid, tall, ‘maybe forgetting is the right thing to do’,him.
“Fuck,” I grumble, slamming my textbook shut as I check the time.
Great. Now I’ve got to go and spend several hours locked in a studio with a guy who makes me crazy. Crazy!
What is there even to forget? Hmm? Nothing happened. We didn’tdoanything. I mean yeah, maybe it felt alittle bitnice when he held me, and yeah, maybe I didn’t want him to let go, but I was upset and distraught and vulnerable. And feelings that arise during times of heightened emotions are not to be trusted.
At all.
Oliver wants me to forget? Fine. Forgotten. Door closed.
Windows freaking shut. No road ahead.
Dead end.
I loop the camera bag I borrowed from photography class over my shoulder as I look at my reflection in the mirror. Damn it! I reach into my pocket and apply one more layer of pink lipstick. This is not for him. No. It’s for me.
Exiting my dorm room, I head to the studio, hoping that Oliver shows up on time. With his band practices and my commitments, I was lucky to be able to book a time slot when we’re both available.
“Kennedy, wait up!” Sawyer calls out, jogging toward me in his football gear.
This is getting out of hand.
“What do you want, Sawyer?” I ask, stopping in the middle of the hallway.
“I’m sorry, okay?” he says, catching his breath. “I shouldn’t have said what I said, KC. I was just—” He lets out a groan, not caring that people are staring at us. “I was angry, and I said shit that I didn’t mean.” He drags his hand across his lips, his hooded eyes on mine. “I’m sorry for hurting you, really I am, that wasn’t my intention when I said I wanted to talk.”
But he did mean it. I know he did. It took several days and infinite crying sessions but I’ve accepted it. The whole time we were dating, I thought we were on the same page, that we were both in love and happy and everything was fine. I was wrong. I was oblivious to his pain. I didn’t see it. Maybe I didn’t want to see it.
“What do you want from me, Sawyer?” I sigh. I don’t have the energy for this. “Do you want me to forgive you for yelling at me? Is that what you want? Alright, I forgive you, okay? Just stop texting me, stop trying to talk to me, just stop.”
“But you don’t forgive me, do you?” Sawyer asks, his tone low. “You’re still mad at me.”
“I’m not mad at you, Sawyer,” I admit, my head starting to pound. “I mean, at first yeah I was but I’m not anymore. I just wish you told me how you felt sooner rather than dump me out of nowhere with no explanation when clearly you hadmanyreasons.”
“I didn’t know how to tell you,” Sawyer says. “I didn’t want to hurt you; I knew it would.”
“So you just didn’t say anything? That hurt more,” I say, sucking in a small breath. “Honestly, Sawyer, it doesn’t matter anymore, we’re not together.” I pause, scanning his face. “I’m— I’m sorry.”
“For what?” he asks, his brows pinching together.
“For being a shitty girlfriend."
“You weren’t a shitty girlfriend, KC,” Sawyer swallows.
“Well, apparently I wasn’t a good one either,” I say, casting him a weak smile. “You deserve to be with someone who can love you the way you need to be loved and I’m sorry I couldn’t be that person.”
Sawyer nods slowly, an unreadable look on his face. “Just ‘cause we’re not dating, KC, doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”
I let out a quiet chuckle. “Yes it does,” I say, my phone vibrating in my hand. I ignore it. “We have too much history to be friends and I’m sure Corrine would rip my head off if she found out you were even talking to me.”
