Fire with Fire (Burn for Burn 2)

I’ve fallen for the one person I shouldn’t have. For the boy who broke Mary’s heart. For Rennie’s one true love. For Alex’s best friend.

It has to end here. Now.

“You’ve already proven who you are, over and over again. The crazy thing is, I’ve known it all along. But these last few weeks, I’ve tricked myself into believing that there was something more to you than the self-centered jerk I’ve known for years. Maybe . . . maybe because I felt sorry for you.” I shake my head. “But you are who you are, Reeve. And the fact is, you’ll never be able to treat me the way I deserve to be treated. You don’t have it in you. So let’s just stop here. You’re probably as tired of pretending to be a good guy as I am of pretending to believe it.”

The words come out of my mouth, but they don’t sound like me. I don’t sound like me. Probably because I know it’s all lies.

But I can see that they’re lies that Reeve believes. He swallows them whole. His eyes go blank. Empty. He completely shuts down.

That’s what hurts me the most, how easily he believes, and I know it’s because deep down it’s what he believes about himself. I’ve preyed upon his deepest fear and used it against him, and I think that’s maybe the biggest betrayal yet.

Still, some part of me is expecting him to fight back, to tell me I’m wrong. Because, the Reeve Tabatsky I know never gives up. But I’m hoping this time he will.

Leave, just leave.

And that’s exactly what he does. Without another word, he turns around, walks to his truck, and drives away.

I close the door, and Kat’s jumping up and down, and Mary’s staring at the door.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I couldn’t wait until New Year’s Eve.”

“Screw New Year’s Eve! The ball dropped here and now, baby!”

I’m almost afraid to look at Mary. If this isn’t enough for her, I don’t know what else I can do. I feel like I’ve died a little inside.

“Oh my God,” she says, the words trickling out of her mouth like honey. “I felt it happen.” Mary focuses on me, then touches her hand to her chest. Her eyes flutter as she says, brightly, “I actually felt his heart break.”

I force myself to smile.

The girls leave my house late in the afternoon. By that time, the sick feeling that’s been inside me ever since Reeve drove away has turned into full-on nausea.

It makes my stomach lurch, replaying it in my head. The things I said. How cruel I was to him, how cold.

Mary and Kat played the whole thing out over and over to each other, mimicking Reeve in the deepest guy voices they could put on: “My mom’s expecting you.” I swear, they must have said that a hundred times, laughing harder and harder.

They wouldn’t have laughed if they’d caught a glimpse of him from their hiding spot. They didn’t have to see the hurt in his eyes. Not like I had to.

Right after Reeve drove off, Kat took my cell and placed it on our kitchen island, where the three of us could stare at it. She said they shouldn’t leave yet, because Reeve would definitely call before he got home. In fact, she said, we should all keep our voices down, in case he was circling the block.

Of course he wasn’t. He didn’t come back; he didn’t call. I knew he wouldn’t.

An hour later, Kat painted us a picture of Reeve stewing, picking up and putting down his cell phone like a tortured man. He’d surely call me after lunch. When that hour came and went, Kat changed her mind and said that I’d definitely hear from him before they had to go. As Kat rolled up her sleeping bag, she swore up and down that Reeve would totally text me before it was time for bed. Or tomorrow, at the absolute latest.

Kat put on her boots and loaded her stuff in her arms. Before she and Mary headed out the front door, she called out from the bottom of the stairs, “If he calls tonight, memorize every word so we can all have a laugh!”

As Mary slipped on her shoes, I held the front door for her. “I can’t thank you enough for what you did,” she said, tears shimmering in her eyes.

I swallowed hard and said, “You’re welcome. I’m just glad it’s over.”

I’m lying on my couch with a pillow over my face. I know it was my choice to get it over with, but now I’m wishing I had done it differently. Like I could have waited until I was at the open house. Alone, without an audience. I could have let him down easy. I could have said, I care about you a lot but I think we’re better off as friends. Kat and Mary wouldn’t ever have had to know the specifics, only that I’d done the deed as promised. Sure, he’d still be mad, but he wouldn’t have a reason to hate me. The thought of Reeve hating me . . . right now I can’t think of anything worse.

It’s only three o’clock. Reeve said himself that people stop in all day long at his family’s open house. If I hurry, I could still go over there and talk to him. Make him understand. We can’t be together, but I can still take back the terrible things I said.

I run upstairs and turn on the shower, dancing from one foot to the other until the water gets warm. But shoot, I don’t have time for a shower! My hair takes forever to dry!

I turn off the water and plug in my curling iron instead. While it heats up, I dash into my closet and throw on the royal-blue silk shirtdress I bought as a backup for college interviews. I pair it with my nude pumps and the string of mini pearls my dad bought for me when I turned sixteen. I curl the ends of my hair, and then put on mascara, a touch of pink blush, and a plain glossy lip.

I check my reflection in the foyer mirror before I run out the door. I look festive, feminine, and mature. Which is great. I want to make a good impression on Reeve’s mom. Who knows what she must think of me now, showing up hours late.

I’m about halfway to T-Town when I remember that I can’t go to his house empty-handed. I do a U-turn in the middle of the street, and a bunch of people honk, but I don’t even care. Milky Morning is already closed, so I go to the florist next door and have them wrap up their biggest red poinsettia in cellophane. It’s more of a centerpiece than a houseplant, the kind of thing you’d see in the lobby of a hotel. It’s oversized and set in a beautiful pot made to look like a vintage mirror. The thing costs over a hundred dollars with tax, but whatever. I ask the guy to load it in my passenger seat.

I get to Reeve’s house close to four o’clock. I’m relieved that there are still loads of cars there, so many cars there’s hardly anywhere to park. I pull across the apron of his neighbor’s driveway, completely blocking their minivan in. I’ll move my car as soon as I have a chance to tell Reeve that I’m sorry.