Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“You saw me with Megan.”
I make a lame attempt to choke back my obvious emotion, but I know he can see right through me. “Yes, I saw you with her. And it wasn’t how Louisa described it. I mean, I was looking in the window, but Sybil’s boyfriend had just cheated, and—”
“Christ, Stella.” He comes to sit on the desk in front of me. “You should have told me. That’s why you ran off and ignored my calls?”
“Yes.” I force myself to acknowledge how stupid that sounds now. “But you ignored my texts.”
“Again, there are better ways to get my attention,” he scolds. “You had me thinking the worst all weekend.”
“How do you think I felt?” I protest. “I saw you with her, and you wouldn’t reply. Who is she to you?”
“She’s an… ex-girlfriend,” he admits. “She came to visit after I ran into an old friend last week, and he told her where I was. Nothing happened between us.”
“But she wanted it to,” I press.
“Yes,” he acknowledges. “Maybe. I don’t know what she wanted. But at the very least, I owed her an explanation.”
“For what?”
The muscle in his throat works, and it looks as though he’s recalling something painful, but I can’t be certain. “For kicking her out of my life without an explanation five years ago.”
I nearly choke on that statement. Without intending to, Sebastian has just confirmed that he’s capable of what I fear most. At some point, he could do the same to me. All the while, we’re both staring down a double barrel shotgun that is Louisa and my mother. Logically, I know the smart thing to do is call this thing off. But in my heart, I don’t know if I can, even if it means saving us both.
“Is that how things will end between us too?” I squeeze my hands together in my lap because all I really want to do is reach out and touch him. “Someday, I’ll just be another Megan?”
I want him to tell me it will be okay. I want his assurances that just because things are messy right now, it doesn’t change anything. We can find a way to be together, regardless. But the truth is, I still don’t know how he feels, and I desperately need him to throw me a life preserver.
“What do you want me to say?” He stands up and paces back to his desk as if this is the last thing he can be bothered to discuss at the moment.
“Say something.” I raise my voice. “Do you feel anything for me at all, or am I really just a toy?”
He doesn’t cave. Instead, he just stands there, leaning against his desk while I’m left to wait on the edge of a cliff. If I’m going to jump off it, I need to know he’s right there beside me.
“Fine.” I open my mouth and lay it all out for him. “I’ll go first. You want me to say it?”
“Stella, don’t,” he warns.
“I’m in love with you, asshole,” I shout.
“Love?” He throws the word back in my face with such contempt, it steals the breath from my lungs. “You don’t know what love is. You don’t even know who you are.”
“I know what love is.” Tears prick at my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. “I’m not as ignorant as you’d like to believe.”
“Call me in ten years and tell me if you still feel that way,” he says. “Someday, you will look back on this while you’re sitting at your desk at a job you hate, and you will barely remember a thing about me.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I demand.
“You don’t know what you want.” He throws his hands up, exasperated. “I saw the notes in your journal. The neat little path to Cornell that your mother paved for you. And in the face of everything that’s happened, you’re still chasing that bone. Cheer squad, fashion PR… who are you kidding with that bullshit? That isn’t your dream. You can’t figure out what you want five minutes from now, let alone what you want to do with the rest of your life.”
Anger bubbles up inside me, but mostly because I know he’s right. I’m still following the path Lila picked for me, and I have no idea why, but I’m not about to admit that to him.
“You were the one who took my assignment out of the binder,” I accuse. “Weren’t you?”
He looks away, and at that moment, I know I’m right.
“Seriously?” I stare at him in disbelief. “What the actual fuck?”
“Watch your mouth,” he snaps.
“No.” I start to gather my things, even though I still have fifteen minutes left. “You crossed the line. You got pissed at me and took it out on my grades. How is that fair?”