“Dream on,” I snort out.
“Let’s talk.” Benton ignores me, taking a step toward Christian. “Alone,” he says.
“No.” I shake my head.
“Yes.” I hear Christian say. I want to pull him toward me, but he is already walking over to Benton in the deserted hallway. I hear the echo of his steps. I watch his back. This is love, I think bitterly. It pulls you in; it freaks you out. It outweighs whatever logical ideas and rational plans you make.
“Be careful.” My voice shakes. Benton says something into his ear. They’re not too close, but they’re close enough to look intimate. And even though no one is here but us, I know that something has changed in the jock. That this time, I don’t need to be worried for Christian’s physical safety. I need to be worried for his heart. “Hey, I can wait here for you? Maybe downstairs?” I try one last time. Christian turns around and shakes his head.
“You go. I’ll call you after. Thanks, babe.”
Reluctantly, I choke the straps of my backpack and hop down the stairs outside, taking them by the two’s. I walk over to the bus station, feeling the sun on my skin. I try to think about any of the things that should occupy my thoughts: college applications, patching things up with Dad and Ryan, schoolwork. But nothing sticks. All I can think about is him.
I slouch on the plastic bench at the bus station and stare at the nothingness across the road. Buildings. Trees. People. My bare thighs are burning on the hot plastic, but I don’t care enough to stand.
A vehicle I recognize stops in front of me, and the passenger door flies open.
“Get in,” Pierce tells me, leaning on his steering wheel.
“No,” I say quietly.
“We need to talk.”
I think about Benton and Christian. How Christian pretty much forgave Benton after he beat the shit out of him, or looked about willing to forgive him, and I shake my head. I can’t afford to be blinded by love. Not after love kicked me in the ass and tried to take the only family that I have left.
“Not interested, Mr. James.”
“Stop with the Mr. James. We’re past that.”
“A few weeks ago, you would have scolded me for calling you anything but,” I say, and not softly, shifting on the bench. “Go away. Someone can see you. Don’t want to tarnish that precious reputation of yours.”
“Get in.”
“No.”
“Fine. I’ll get out,” he says, unbuckling his seatbelt and bolting out of his car in an instant. He is double-parked in the middle of the road, and I’m pretty sure he is breaking five hundred different rules at once.
I watch as he circles the car with something in his hand. It’s a box. A big one. He drops it into my hands, and I can feel that it’s heavy. It’s wrapped in red, but it looks like a toddler wrapped it…before a car ran over it.
“This is for your birthday.” He looks at me seriously. “I wrapped it myself.” And it dawns on me that Pierce doesn’t care much about anything. He could get caught, and he doesn’t even give a rat’s ass. He is standing here with his student, giving her a present. His stubble and bloodshot eyes also tell me that he is not feeling any better than I do.
“No gifts.” I shake my head, shoving it back to his chest, still seated.
“Take it,” he says. “You have to. I’ll feel better if you do.”
“Because I’m so concerned with your feelings right now.”
“Listen.” he sighs. “This is a mistake. All of this. It can’t end like this.”
“Who are you to say?” I laugh bitterly. “You were the one to fuck it up.”
“I tried to protect you,” he says, for the one-millionth time. “Get your head out of your ass, Remington. Your brother is dangerous. Your brother is dealing with very sketchy people, and I’m worried about your safety.”
This time I can’t help it. I stand up and toss the wrapped gift into the open passenger window of his car. “No, Mr. James. You wanted revenge. Forget about what we were. Forget about what we could have been. Remember how you used to say that you were worried you’d ruin me? That you’d break my heart? Well, congratulations. You did. Yours doesn’t look to be in better shape than mine, though. So please, make it stop. Just stop. Let me lick my wounds in peace. I don’t need you.”
“It’s a Polaroid camera.” Pierce shoots me a pained look. A look I’ve never seen on his face. His throat bobs on a swallow. He looks down. “The gift for your birthday. To capture all the sad and beautiful things,” he repeats my words from the second day of school, and my heart breaks a little more.
I start walking toward the next bus station, not looking back.