Page 43 of Baby, One More Time

His features set in a terrifyingly driven expression. “Deal.”

Marissa nods and turns to me, elbows folded on the table. “Your turn. What do you want?”

“A second chance.”

Marissa’s reaction is half hysterical laughter, half scoff. “Yeah, right!”

“Why does he get one and I don’t?”

“Because he”—she points at the guy—“waited less than a week to ask for his second chance, you let sixteen years pass. Your window closed a long time ago.”

I swallow. “Then let me at least explain why—”

“Why what? Why you dumped me on prom night?” Marissa says in a steady voice that’s nonetheless simmering with suppressed anger. “The night we should’ve lost our virginity together. Or why you did it with a one-line note you didn’t even dare to deliver yourself? No, no, wait.” She looks at the ceiling, tapping her chin, pretending to think. “It must be for leaving me running after your stupid truck in the middle of the street without even a glance in the rearview mirror. Which one is it?”

Gabriel makes to stand up at this point. “Maybe I should give you guys some privacy.”

“Sit.” Marissa levels him with a stare. “Dr. Raikes has many things to atone for. We don’t want to add making you miss your lunch to the list.”

With a stoic expression, Gabriel sits back, throwing what I interpret as a glance of male solidarity my way before setting his gaze out the restaurant window and doing his best to appear inconspicuous.

“All of it,” I say on an exhale.

“Why?” Marissa hisses. “Why did you do it?”

“Because I couldn’t do it in person. I never would’ve had the strength to say goodbye to you. I loved you too much.”

“If you loved me, why say goodbye at all?”

“Because I was leaving anyway in a couple of months. You were going to NYU, and I was headed to Stanford—”

“We had agreed we’d try the long distance.”

“Long distance never works. And if we had made love that night, if we’d spent the entire summer making love, I was afraid I wouldn’t go—or that I’d be too broken when I did. We both would’ve been. I gave you a clean break.”

“A clean break?” Her voice is so low I almost can’t hear it. “You call what you did a clean break?”

“I gave you a reason to hate me, to move on—”

“Ah,” she scoffs. “That’s just priceless, so I should thank you now?”

“No, that’s not what—”

“You really think you leaving like that didn’t break me? Thank you for nothing, then. Thank you for ruining the most romantic night of my life. Thank you for making me lose trust in men, for robbing me of the capability of opening up to even the possibility of love ever again. Thank you for scarring me for life.” I take on her rage, wishing with everything I had that I could remove the hurt underneath. But Marissa isn’t done. “Thank you for making me lose my virginity with a drunken five-minute screw in sophomore year because I was tired of everybody talking about sex and just wanted to see what the fuss was about. It should’ve been with somebody I loved, who loved me back, and you took that away from me. So, thank you very much for flipping nothing.”

The server arrives at that precise moment and, with an oblivious smile, announces, “Carnitas double tacos?”

Gabriel looks up with the air of a man who’d rather be anywhere else in the world. “That’d be me.”

“Pollo single serve?” the server asks next.

“That’s me.” Marissa stands up, making her chair scrape loudly on the floor. “But I’ve changed my mind, I’ll take my order to go.”

“Perfect, miss. Fish taco for you, sir.” The server places the last plate in front of me. “And I’ll be right back with your box.”

Marissa dons her coat and hooks her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll wait at the counter.”

I make to stand up, but she blocks me with a raised finger. “Do not follow me, I mean it. Stay out of my life.”

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