by Beth Reekles
The girl was blond and beautiful, and her dress (at least, I guessed it was a dress) was strapless and very low cut to accentuate what little curves she had.
And what little curves she had were pressed up against my boyfriend, and she looked like she was giggling, her eyes half closed and crinkled around the edges.
And she was kissing his cheek.
And he was grinning.
I felt sick.
Lee took Rachel’s phone out of my hands—which was lucky, because I probably would’ve dropped it a second or two later. My shoulders slumped before it hit me; I tensed up completely, even my toes curling in anger.
“This is some kind of sick joke, right?”
Rachel leaned away from me slightly and slowly took her cell back from Lee, dropping it into her cavernous purse. “Um…”
“Oh my God.” I ran my hands hard over my face and up into my hair, shaking it out just for something to occupy their agitation. Was this why he’d been weird when we talked yesterday? Not because of our conversation on Saturday, but because something had happened with this girl? “Tell me this is some kind of joke.”
“Shelly…”
“Please.” My voice broke on the word, but somehow, miraculously, I managed not to start crying.
Rachel and Lisa looked at each other yet again, and something in me snapped. I shot out of my chair, almost knocking it over, and stormed out—ignoring Mr. Shane calling for me to sit back down—and I heard Lee chasing after me.
I stormed down the hallway, taking a few turns until I was in the staircase, where it was silent, and Lee grabbed my hand from behind, stopping me from running away any farther.
He jerked my arm, tugging me round, and I let him wrap his arms around me.
I took a few shaky breaths, more angry than upset.
No, I wasn’t angry—I was furious. Livid. In a rage.
And even more than that: I was confused. How could Noah do this to me? There had to be some kind of explanation for that photo, but…but even if it was totally innocent, why was some random girl kissing his cheek? Wouldn’t he have told me about it, if it was no big deal? And why did he look so damn happy about it? Things between us had felt so distant lately. What if…?
I drew in another ragged breath and then stepped back from Lee, and he let me. I blinked the tears out of my eyes, to see Lee smiling sadly.
“I’m sure it doesn’t mean anything, Elle. Noah loves you. You know that. I know that. Everyone knows that, after he went all out at the Summer Dance to win you back. He was probably drunk and even if some girl kissed him on the cheek, it’s not like it was a proper kiss, you know? It doesn’t mean anything. Cam kissed you on the cheek at Jon’s party, and Lisa didn’t go crazy.”
“That’s…Everyone’s looking at me like it does mean something, though. And what if it does? What if they’re right, Lee?” Without meaning to, I’d raised my voice, so that it echoed throughout the staircase. My chest heaved with shallow breaths. “What if it does mean something? I haven’t seen him for weeks and what if he’s forgotten all about me and met other girls—better, smarter, prettier, funnier girls, who are there, with him, and not on the other side of the country, and in a totally different time zone, too? Things were so weird between us when we spoke this weekend. What if he’s met someone and he’s just waiting until Thanksgiving when he sees me in person to break up with me, because he’s trying to be nice?”
Lee shook his head, but the way he bit his lip made me wonder if I was right.
“Has he said something to you?” I asked, my voice a hesitant murmur and totally pathetic. “Lee? Please, tell me.”
“He just said that he’s finding it hard to be away from you.” Lee sighed, looking me in the eye from under his thick eyelashes. “But I didn’t think he meant that he’d met someone else and that he didn’t want to be with you.”
“And what if he did?”
“Then…I guess you’ll have to call him later and talk about it and find out. But, Shelly, listen—Noah can be kind of a butthead sometimes, but he wouldn’t cheat. That’s not him.”
I knew he was right, but it made me feel nauseous all over again, just to think about making that phone call. And if I was wrong, how much worse I’d make things by accusing him of something like that. Sure, maybe it was totally innocent and everything would be fine, but…
But this was the same guy who couldn’t tell me something as simple as the fact that he was finding college hard.
So what if it wasn’t fine?
* * *
• • •
For the rest of the day, I’d listened to people gossip about me.
The general idea everyone had decided to go with was that Noah and I had broken up, and I’d hooked up with Levi at the party (I heard the terms revenge sex and rebound getting thrown around a lot) and Noah had, in turn, hooked up with this preppy girl Amanda from college, the (so-called) evidence now all over Facebook.
Levi had shown up to school late—he’d had a doctor’s appointment first thing—and we’d told him about the rumors over lunch. He’d just laughed.
“People should mind their own goddamn business,” Rachel had muttered, taking an angry bite out of her apple. I didn’t think I’d ever heard her so irritated.
“It’s high school,” Dixon responded, deadpan. “What else do you expect?”
When I finally did get home, I barged up to my room, slamming the door so my dad and brother got the message not to try and talk to me, and I called my boyfriend.
If I could call him that anymore.
My hands were trembling so hard that I could feel my cell phone shaking against my face. I stopped pacing and sat down on the floor, my back against my bed, and I brought my knees up to my chest, wrapping my free arm around them.
I crossed my fingers that he wouldn’t pick up.
And closed my eyes and wished he would.
Any second now, it would go to voice mail.
Pick up. Don’t. Pick up. Don’t. Pick—
It went to voice mail. I hung up.
And before I could decide whether to just toss my cell onto my bed out of the way or whether I should try calling again, he was calling back.
I jumped when my phone started buzzing in my hands and fumbled to answer it.
“Hi,” I croaked, my voice sounding weirdly raw. I coughed to clear my throat, but it didn’t do anything to clear my head and order my mess of thoughts.
“You rang?”
“Yeah.”
There was a pause. “Um, was there anything in particular you wanted to talk about, Shelly? Or are you just calling because you miss my dulcet tones?”
I wanted to laugh.
I couldn’t manage a smile.
“Elle? What’s up? Is everything okay?”
“I saw it.”
“What?”
“I saw the photo.”
Another pause. “I’m really not following. What’re you talking about?”
“The photo on Facebook!” I yelled, my frustration bursting out of me. “The photo of you and that girl”—I spat the word, like it was some kind of insult—“at the party you went to on Saturday night. With your arms around each other and her kissing your cheek, and—”
“Oh, that.”
I bristled. How dare he sound so flippant?
“Did you think I wouldn’t see it? That I wouldn’t find out?”
I heard him wince. Maybe I was a little shrill, but I couldn’t help it. “Elle, please, stop freaking out on me. Take a deep breath. Let’s talk.”
“Talk? You want to talk? You had all of yesterday to talk to me about this, but you didn’t. Do you have any idea how humiliated I was when I went to school today and everybody else had seen that photo and everybody else knew, and gossiped about it behind my back? Do you have any idea what
that felt like?”
“Elle, I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was a big deal. It’s just a photo from a party.”
“Oh, so if I go on your Facebook profile, I’ll find a whole album of you cuddling random girls at parties with them kissing you?”
It sounded crazy and irrational even as I said it, but I couldn’t stop myself. I was spiraling. I just kept thinking how if he couldn’t talk to me about something as normal as how he was actually doing in college, then what else couldn’t he talk to me about? Was he finding our relationship hard, too? Was the distance too much—was that why he’d suggested I apply for colleges in Boston? Did he regret trying long-distance and was just waiting for the right time to tell me?
Definitely irrational and crazy, but…
But I was so scared of losing him.
“Amanda’s not some random girl.”
Those were the last words I wanted to hear from him, and I sucked in a sharp breath through my nose and clenched my jaw. “What are you trying to say—she means something to you? Are you trying to tell me something?”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it. I meant, she’s a friend. She’s my lab partner. We hang out; we study together. That’s all I meant by it. Seriously, Elle, just calm down.”
“If she’s such a good friend, why is this the first I’m hearing about her?”
Noah sighed, agitated. “Okay. So, Elle, there’s a girl I’ve been hanging out with a lot. We have classes together and she’s my lab partner, and we study together a lot. We have mutual friends and hang out and go to parties together. You think I don’t know how that sounds?”
I bit my tongue, hard, before snapping back, “Is that your way of telling me you think I’m some psycho, jealous person who won’t let you hang out with other girls?”
He was quiet for a moment. His voice came out cold and steady. “You just called me to yell at me about a photo, Elle.”
I was so ready to snap at him again but caught myself, seething quietly instead. There was a bitter tang in my mouth and I was flushed, heart hammering. I’d broken out in a cold sweat.
So he was right. But it still felt like he’d been lying to me.
I started to understand, for a moment, just how shitty Lee must have felt when he found out I’d been dating Noah behind his back. The realization was like barbed wire around me.
When Noah realized he had a chance to say something, I heard him sigh heavily. “Listen, Elle. I know how bad things look and that maybe I should’ve mentioned Amanda before, and I know that wasn’t exactly the sort of photo you wanted to see of me, but I swear, nothing happened. It was totally innocent. She’s a hugger. She kisses people on the cheek. It’s just her thing. That was all. It wasn’t a romantic thing, and she’s not even interested in me like that. And I’m not interested in her like that either, okay?”
“Okay,” I said quietly. But…
“I want you,” he went on, “to be able to trust me.”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I pursed my lips, because I was afraid of what I might say. Because as much as I wanted to say yes, of course I trusted him, my reaction to this whole thing made me second-guess that.
“I’m sorry that it happened, and I’m sorry you were so humiliated by it at school. But it’s no big deal, what actually happened. You know? I get that you’re mad right now but you’ll see it wasn’t. And you know I love you, and we’re good, right? It’s just gossip. You know how much people used to gossip about me. Trust me—it never means anything.”
“It feels like it means something,” I murmured. “It’s not nice to hear people calling me a slut in the hallways between classes. Or to think you’re keeping secrets.”
“Why were they doing that?” he asked, a protective edge sharpening his words.
“Because I left the party on Friday early with Levi. And with that photo of you and…Amanda…” God, I hated saying her name. I hated her. I didn’t even know her but I hated her. Talk about irrational. “…everyone jumped to conclusions. They thought we’d broken up and that we were both on the rebound. Or whatever.”
“Oh.”
“You can say all the gossip doesn’t matter, and maybe it doesn’t in the long run, but right now it’s pretty damn hurtful. Not to mention embarrassing.”
“This guy Levi…”
“Yeah?”
“You and Seven For All Mankind seem pretty close now.”
His tone was neutral, but like he was trying to make it so—and I couldn’t tell if he was jealous or not.
And he had no damn right to be. My temper flared.
“We are. And his name is Levi. Don’t be mean.”
There was a long pause. In a weird sort of way, I was glad if he was jealous—like it was payback for Amanda.
I hated myself for even thinking it.
It was petty and irrational.
This whole long-distance thing was such a breeze.
“Shelly?” Noah’s voice was startlingly soft and quiet, not irritable and full of jealousy like I’d expected. “We’re good, right?”
“Of course we are,” I said, though if I was being honest with myself, I really didn’t know anymore.
I wanted us to be good. I wanted everything to go back to normal. I didn’t want to fight—or be petty. I took a deep breath.
“I’m…I’m sorry I got so angry.”
“That’s okay. You have every right to be.”
Part of me wondered where this calm, cool, collected Noah had suddenly come from—he would usually yell just as much as I would; we could both get fired up when we argued. But he was rarely ever the voice of reason like this.
Had college really changed him so much?
“I have to go,” he said, sighing. “I’m sorry, I really am, but I promised some of the football guys I’d meet them for dinner to hang out…but I’ll try to call you later?”
We both hesitated, listening to each other’s breathing, and then I pulled the phone away from my ear and hung up.
My eyes slid shut and I tilted my head back against my bed, taking a deep breath. If things were supposed to be so great with me and Noah, why did I feel like my heart was breaking?
Chapter 11
The rumors about me and Noah, and me and Levi, died down after a couple of days when people decided they probably weren’t true, and since everyone was busting their asses with SATs or midterms or regular homework, no new rumors came to replace the ones about me.
Noah’s birthday came and went on October third (I sent him a movie collection on iTunes and a card), and neither of us talked about the photo. He sent me my favorite takeout one night when I said I was trying to work on college applications, and he seemed to be making an effort to talk a lot more. I appreciated it, but something still felt…off.
The rumor mill might have already forgotten about Noah and Amanda, but I sure as hell hadn’t. And I absolutely had not been compulsively checking Amanda’s Twitter and Instagram (once I’d found them) for more cutesy pictures of her and my boyfriend. Absolutely not.
It’s not like I’d spent hours tracking her down. She had the same handle on Twitter as on Instagram. And I only found her Instagram because Noah liked some of her photos.
Lee told me it was weird to keep checking her social media.
Rachel said she’d be doing the same in my shoes.
Levi just commented on the “metric shit ton” of photos she posted every day, saying she couldn’t possibly be drinking so many coffees with her friends.
I was just opening up Instagram, when Ethan Jenkins, head of student council, knocked his fist on the table, like he was a judge calling a court to order. I looked at Lee, who crossed his eyes and pulled a face at me. We hadn’t been due to have a school council meeting this week, but Ethan had made it sound like there was some kind of emergency.
&n
bsp; “All right, everyone! Thanks for showing up. I know we’re all busy with SATs and stuff right now, but it’s time for a progress check with the Sadie Hawkins dance. Where are we on catering?”
“Oh, man, does he have to talk about food right now? We’re giving up our lunch break for this,” Lee muttered to me, his stomach growling as if to back him up. I stifled a giggle, pressing my hand to my mouth.
Even though the dance was shaping up to be pretty awesome, I didn’t feel like I shared everyone else’s excitement for it. I hadn’t picked out a dress yet, and I hadn’t asked anybody. Specifically: Noah. Things felt so delicate between us lately; I got the feeling that asking him to come home to go to the dance with me would just lead to another fight and make things even worse than they already were. I kept finding excuses not to ask him. As people gave updates on whatever they were responsible for, excited whispers filled the room.
“And we’re still not doing a theme?” Faith wanted to know, interrupting the update on decorations.
“It’s just a dance.” Ethan sighed. “It doesn’t need a theme.”
“Tyrone understood how important a theme was,” Faith muttered.
“Tyrone also blew the whole budget on dances, and that’s why we had to hold extra fund-raisers,” Ethan shot back. “Excuse me for thinking about keeping the Summer Dance a huge event.”
“Still need a theme,” Kaitlin said under her breath, pouting.
“Jeez! Fine, you guys want a theme? Here’s a theme: high school dance. Can we get back to the update on decorations now? On kind of a tight schedule here, if anyone wants to eat this lunchtime.”
“Decorations, please,” Lee cried.
When it got to the music, Lee looked at me desperately. Music had been our responsibility, but Lee hadn’t been involved at all so far. He’d been so busy with football and keeping his grades up and making time for Rachel, that I’d said I’d handle it. I was on the track team now, but it wasn’t like that took up massive amounts of my time. I wasn’t going to compete or anything—I was mostly just doing it to have on my college application, especially since I’d given up on the whole “get a job” thing.
