The Girl I Was Before (Falling #3)(35)

“Uhm okay, you can skip the locker-room talk. I’m a girl, so not really interested in hearing about her body,” I say, not wanting to get the details on Bethany’s ass and tits.

“Haha, right…well, I noticed her…pretty fast, almost the minute she finished registering for school. I saw her through the office windows, and waited in the hallway until she exited with her school map and a schedule in her hand,” he says.

“And let me guess, you guided her to her class…and asked her to the prom, and the rest is history,” I say, not really sure why I’m rushing him, or why I’m jealous. I’m jealous; mother f*ck.

“Uh, no. I walked up to her, and before I could get a single word out, she held up her hand and said ‘Not interested,’” he says. Now I regret dismissing Bethany so quickly; I actually feel kind of proud of her.

“Romantic,” I tease.

“Indeed,” he says. “But I kept trying. I walked up to her every time I saw her, and every single time, she shot me down. When her mom dropped her off in the morning and I saw her outside, I’d ask. When I happened to be behind her in line at lunch, I’d ask. In biology—every single day—I’d ask. She always said no. I was relentless!” He almost seems proud of his portfolio of rejections. It’s so odd.

“Why not give up?” I ask.

“Because Bethany was the one,” he says. I can’t help it, and I laugh harshly. That whole concept of the one—it’s preposterous. And the one, when you’re what? Sixteen? Uhm, no. Just…no.

“I know it sounds crazy. And really…at the time, I wasn’t thinking she was the one. I just knew there was this really hot chick at school that I couldn’t stop thinking about, and the fact that she didn’t want me was killing me,” he says. “And then one day, she said yes.”

“Just out of the blue, just like that?” I respond, suddenly hooked on this melodrama from Houston’s past.

“Just like that,” he says, practically holding his breath before letting out another laugh. “Okay, so maybe she had a flat tire in the school parking lot, and no one was around to help…and maybe I said I would if she agreed to dinner.”

“So you extorted her into dating you,” I say, sitting up again in my bed, and smiling. I’ve been smiling through most of this conversation, and it strikes me that I haven’t smiled much since I’ve been home.

“Wow, that sure makes me sound like a creep,” he says.

“If the shoe fits…” I tease.

“Anyhow…” he shrugs off my remark, but his voice is a little more guarded when he continues, and I feel badly that I took things too far. But he’s still sharing, so I admonish myself in my head and vow to be good for the rest of his story. “I had these big plans. I was going to take her to this big fancy restaurant on the top floor of the Marley building downtown. You know…one of those places that has waiters standing behind you the entire time, waiting for you to need anything. Only the day I went to pick her up, my shitty-ass car blew up.”

“What, like a battery or something?” I ask.

“No, I mean it literally blew up. Something caught fire in the engine, and the thing was smoking in my parents’ driveway,” he says, chuckling at the memory.

“What’d you do?” I ask, now totally invested in how this ends.

“Like any respectable sixteen-year-old, I got on my bike with a backpack filled with lame-ass picnic food and rode to her house,” he says. “She was dressed in this really nice outfit, and here I was in Dockers and a shirt that I sweat up on my way to her house. It was a truly pathetic display.”

“It sounds sweet,” I say, surprising myself when I hear my voice speak. That…that was meant for my thoughts. Houston remains quiet for a few seconds, and I lie back down, rolling my face into my pillow, wishing like hell I had the power to reverse time.

“Thanks,” he says finally, his voice soft. “She…Bethany…she thought it was pretty sweet too. We sat in her front yard, eating crackers and cheese and weird Hostess snacks, and then…she kissed me.”

My smile fades when he says this part, but I force it back on my mouth. I don’t know why; no one can see me. But I shouldn’t be upset hearing about Houston kissing his late…wife? This…it shouldn’t upset me, so that smile—it’s staying on my damn face, even if I have to hold it there with my fingers.

“So, when did Leah happen?” I ask, getting to the part I really want to know.

“About six months later,” he says. “We started dating near the end of sophomore year. Junior year I was on the football team. We were pretty good, and every Friday, we’d have these huge parties. There was a lot of drinking, and other…stuff.”

“So you and Bethany…did some of that other…stuff?” I say it like him, amused that he can’t just say we had unprotected sex and whoops!

“Yeah, pretty much. I mean, we were always really careful, but I was coming off a huge win, and Beth and I were doing shots, and we were at my friend Casey’s house. It was late, and we just got caught up in it,” he says. “About three weeks later, Bethany started throwing up. She tried to keep it from me for the first week, I think because she was afraid to find out for sure. But I could tell something was up. She was really emotional, and she’d get so pissed at me, out of nowhere. She finally got sick in front of me, and she just broke down and started crying. I knew the second she looked at me.”