Page 90 of Told You So
Red fury consumes me. “Are you serious right now?” I bite out. My heart is racing and all I can see is Mike and Sam. All I can picture is another phone call between Savannah and Nick, turning into another and another until it turns into something more. “You’ve hadhowmany conversations with her in the past twenty-four hours alone? In the past few days you couldn’t find a single moment to bring it up? After everything that’s happened, did you really think I would be okay with that—that there’s another girl on the side?”
Resting his elbows on his knees, he glares at me. “Areyouserious? She’s not just some ‘girl on the side.’”
“Don’t I look serious?” I ask him, causing his brow to furrow deeper.
“I already told you, Bethany. I’m not Mike.” He pulls on his other shoe then stands up and brushes past me. “Stop comparing us.”
I’m not sure if it’s the fact that he isn’t even trying to see my side of it, or if I truly am worried he and Savannah might still have feelings for one another, but I head back into his room to grab my things. The more I think about the time they spend together, about how they are together—how I’ve seen them in public and how comfortable they still are together—the more convinced I am that their friendship might not be something I’m able to accept, not if he’s going to act like I’m crazy for simply wanting her to know I exist. I shove my toiletries back into my bag.
“That’s not the sort of thing that just comes up in a conversation with your ex,” Nick says more forcefully from the kitchen.
“Well, maybe it should be.” I pull my phone charger from the wall and grab my hairband. Maybe I’m overreacting and he hasn’t had time to tell her. Or, maybe on some level he doesn’t want to tell her because he’ll drive Savannah away and she’ll be gone forever and he can’t handle that. Either way, I feel sick to my stomach, and I can’t stay here and pretend that I’m okay. “I’m going to get ready at my parents’.”
“Seriously?” He stops in the doorway, anger pinching his features. “You’re that upset about it?”
I don’t bother pointing out the obvious. “I have to take Jesse to school anyway.”
“Bethany, nothing is going to happen with Savannah,” he says and steps closer. “I promise. Why aren’t you hearing me?”
“Why aren’t you hearingme? It’s not only about that,” I say and turn around to face him with my bags in hand. “I don’t want to be second anymore, Nick.”
“There we go with the Mike thing again,” he grinds out.
“I know you’re not him. But you meeting up with Savannah and talking to her at all hours of the night—her knowing nothing about me—makes me feel like a dirty secret. Maybe if you had the gnawing, rotten feeling settled in the pit of your stomach, like I do, you’d understand why I can’t simply deal with it.”
Nick looks confused and maybe a little hurt, a lot like I feel.
“I gotta go,” I tell him, and shut the door behind me. I need space before I say something I might regret.
Forty-Eight
Nick
I sit in my Explorer in front of the Fairchild’s house for a minute, collecting myself. I’m not exactly sure why I’m here, only that Bethany didn’t answer my call this morning and I didn’t see her around campus today. I figured something must’ve happened with Jesse—or, the more I think about it, I’ve screwed everything up more than I realized.
I should’ve known Savannah would be a trigger for Bethany; she’s the reason New Year’s ended with me standing outside in the cold, alone, after all. And, I’ve thought about telling Savannah about Bethany a couple times, but I haven’t wanted to hurt her, especially when she’s already feeling alone and struggling with being in Hannington Beach.
Climbing out of the car, I brace myself for whatever awaits me on the other side of the door, and I head up the walkway. I see an unfamiliar Volvo in the driveway, so I know someone’s home.
Even if it’s pathetic, I can’t go through the day not knowing where me and Bethany stand or what exactly happened. So, before I can change my mind, I knock on the front door.
There’s movement inside before it slowly creaks open and who I assume is her mom is standing there, eyes red, and blonde hair pulled back out of her face. She’s attractive, if a little more haggard than I imagined.
“Can I help you?” she asks, looking me up and down. Not in a judgemental way, but curious, I think.
“Yeah, Bethany’s not here by chance, is she?”
Her eyes narrow slightly and she shakes her head. “And you are?”
“Nick,” I tell her. “I’m her—project partner, I guess.” I’m not sure what we are anymore, and it kills me.
“You don’t seem certain.”
“Yeah.” I let out a breath and run my fingers through my hair. “I’m not,” I mumble and turn to head back to my car. “Sorry to bother you.”
“Nick,” she calls, opening the door fully. Mrs. Fairchild is still in what looks like her pajamas, which surprises me. “She’s at the salon until closing.”
I nod, grateful. For the first time, I wonder what happened this morning that would leave Mrs. Fairchild’s eyes puffy and more rumpled looking than Bethany described. “Thank you.”
