My Sweetest Escape (My Favorite Mistake #2)(44)
Author: Chelsea M. Cameron

“Ditto,” I said, and he closed his eyes, but that didn’t break the spell.

“We can’t do this,” he said, not opening his eyes, but not pulling back.

“Do what?” I didn’t even know what he was suggesting. We weren’t even friends. Did he mean kissing?

He made a frustrated sound and threw himself to his feet, as if it took every ounce of strength he had, which was considerable, and went to the farthest corner of the room.

“A year ago, I would have kissed you in the kitchen. Hell, I would have kissed you the second you first looked at me. But I’m not that guy anymore. The guy who takes what he wants and doesn’t give a shit who it hurts. I would have taken you and broken you, and I can’t do that. I can’t do that to you. So I’m saying we can’t do this. The answer is no.”

I was confused by so much of what he said it took a moment for me to even formulate my first of many questions.

“What do you mean, a year ago? What happened?” I hoped his candor would be more than a onetime thing. I knew so little about him and I wanted to know more. He was such an enigma.

“I lost someone that I loved, and it put things in perspective.”

“I lost someone, too,” I said. It was the first time I’d really said it out loud. “That’s why I changed. Because the things that used to matter didn’t anymore. I spent my whole life worrying about the wrong things, like grades and getting ahead. So I stopped worrying about that and tried to focus on the things that mattered.”

“Like what?” Our eyes finally met again.

“Well, I screwed it up a lot at first. That’s why my parents sent me here. I was partying and skipping class. I thought living for the day meant doing whatever I wanted and worrying about the consequences tomorrow. Or never.” I laughed a little. “And then I realized it wasn’t about that. It was about finding something you were passionate about.”

“What are you passionate about?”

I pointed to the store behind us.

“Music.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty obvious. I should have guessed.” We both sort of laughed to break up the intensity in the room.

“Why? What did you think it was?” The mind reeled.

“I think I will keep that to myself.”

“Oh, come on. You’re Mr. Cryptic all the time. How about some transparency? I’ve been honest with you.”

“I didn’t ask you to.” He went from joking to almost hostile. “Shit, Jos. What are you doing to me?” He groaned and started pacing the room. “I really should get back to work. They’re probably taking bets on if we’ve hooked up yet.”

Uh, what?

“For real?” I looked toward the door. I did not want to go out there.

“I can set them straight, if you want.”

“If I want? I definitely don’t want your coworkers thinking we had a quickie in the break room. I am not, nor will I ever be, the kind of girl who would do that.”

“That wasn’t… I never thought you were…”

This thing had spiraled out of control, and I was starting to get a little pissed. Why in the hell did he have to be so freaking frustrating?

“Look, Jos. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry about…everything. You’ve done nothing wrong. It’s all on my side, and I wish I could just snap my fingers and take it all back.” With that, he strode by me, opened the door and shut it, leaving me to wonder what the hell I’d gotten myself into and how I was ever going to get out of it.

* * *

Of course in all the confusion I had completely forgotten about the party and the fact that Dusty was coming to it. Instead of potentially causing a big deal, I snatched Hunter’s phone and scrolled through his contacts and memorized Dusty’s number before Hunter could notice. He was too busy making googly eyes at Taylor, so I was pretty much in the clear.

I wrote and deleted five messages before going with one.

R U still coming tonite? This is Jos.

I felt like a moron, putting the identifier at the end, but I didn’t want him to think the message was from some random person. I stared at my phone and waited for a response. He was still at work, but I had the feeling the cell phone policy at Bull Moose was pretty lax.

Yes. I promised Renee I would. See you later.

The words were blank and emotionless. I couldn’t see his face to know if he was smiling when he wrote them, but intuition told me that he was either mad at me, himself or both. If only he’d used a winky face, I would have known he was joking. But then again, Dusty didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would use a winky face via text.

I typed out two letters and sent them.

OK.

“Are you sure you still want to do this?” Renee said, coming up for air after studying all day for an exam on a subject I couldn’t even pronounce, let alone begin to understand.

“I mean, I bought a dress, and Hannah is all for it. I talked her out of her Carrie plan by telling her that the best revenge was living well. So now her plan is to look hot and dance and have a good time to shove it in their faces. We’ll see if it works. They’ll probably be far too drunk to notice, but I don’t think that will matter,” I said.

She sat down next to me at the dining room table, where I’d been reading the latest assignments for English from my classmates. Most of them made me want to gouge my eyes out. These people had no respect for their, they’re and there. None at all.

“Has she ever told you what happened to her? I mean, I can see that she’s had a lot of reconstructive surgery. That’s why her skin has that weird pattern on it. Skin grafts from other parts of her body.” I knew that, but I didn’t say anything.

“No, she just told me it was a long story. Hannah’s the type of person who doesn’t talk about something unless she wants to. Reading between the lines it sounds pretty horrific. Like one of those things you wish you didn’t know. I’m sure she’ll tell me at some point, but I’m not going to drag it out of her. People keep secrets for a reason.”

“Like you, maybe?” She flipped my hair over my shoulder, but I could see she wasn’t mad. “I just wish you trusted me enough to tell me.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to, or that I don’t trust you.”

“Then what is it, Jos? We’ve been through so much together.”

“I know, I know.” Trust had absolutely nothing to do with it. It was more like…if I told her, if I opened up that wound again, I didn’t think it would ever close, ever heal. It was better to put a bandage over it and hope that it would heal on its own with time. And besides, I should have this wound. It was mine to bear.