Dear Love, I Hate You (Easton High)

Zac: What difference does it make?

Love: A HUGE difference. Think about it. Almost all your confessions are about other people. Your best friend, your mom, your dad. MY confessions are mostly about shit I did. You look like a fucking saint next to me, Z.

Zac: A saint who can’t love. Or get attached to anyone. Saint my ass.

Love: What about the girl you got stuck with on senior prank night? You said she made you reconsider.

Zac: I was wrong.

Zac: Just got caught up in the moment.

An unexpected twinge of pain skitters through my chest.

Zac: Not that it matters anyway. She’s been avoiding me like the fucking plague since then.

Maybe if he was lying, I’d have a right to be mad. To feel disappointed. Hurt. But he’s right. I did this. It was all me. Me who ripped out the roots before the tree could grow.

I’ve been texting “Zac” for weeks but avoiding Xavier in the halls. It’s like I need the virtual Xav but can’t handle him in real life. Truth is, I’m scared. Petrified by the possibility of him looking me in the eyes one day and figuring it all out.

Realizing it’s been me all along.

Something changed between us after our almost kiss a month ago. Xavier started stealing glances my way during lunch. I would’ve had to be blind not to notice those sharp blue eyes lingering on me. It’s almost as though the hours we spent stuck together flipped a switch. Made him notice me. It even seemed like I might have a chance with the Stallions’ star shooting guard for a second there. And by “me”… I don’t mean Love.

I mean Aveena.

But I couldn’t be both girls to him, so I had to choose. Choose whether I wanted to be Vee—real, vulnerable, scared of getting hurt. Or Love—safe, predictable, just a name on a screen.

I chose Love.

Love: I don’t buy it. That confession had to be a lie. There has to have been at least ONE girl that meant something to you.

Zac: It wasn’t a lie. At the time.

Zac: But it is now.

Wait…

So, he didn’t like anyone then, but he does now?

Love: What does that mean?

It takes him twenty minutes to reply.

Zac: I think you know exactly what it means.

My cheeks combust.

I stare at the screen, my heart rattling against my rib cage. Is he saying what I think he’s saying? What if he’s not even talking about me and I’ve got this all wrong?

Inhaling a deep breath, I think up a response, but nanoseconds before my thumb can hit Send, my screen flashes with a text from my best friend.

Dia: I’m outside.

Already?

Love: I’m so sorry, I have to go. Promised my best friend I’d go with her to get a piercing tonight.

His reply comes through in a heartbeat.