Broken Beautiful Hearts(24)
My phone vibrates in my pocket.
Wow. Mom waited a whole five minutes before checking on me.
But it’s not Mom.
Tess’ name glows in green letters.
Did she figure out I’ve been telling the truth? Maybe Lucia got through to her. I answer on the second ring. “I’m so glad you called.”
“The last time we were alone together you said you had nothing left to say to me.” Reed’s voice taunts me from the other end of the line. “I’m hoping that’s not true.”
“Then prepare to be disappointed. If I wanted to talk to you, I wouldn’t have blocked your number.” My heart pounds. “Why do you have Tess’ phone? Let me talk to her.”
“She went inside to get something and left her phone in the car. Like you said, my number is blocked.”
“It hasn’t stopped you from calling.”
“I miss you, Peyton.” The regret in his voice feels like spiders crawling over my skin.
“Put Tess on,” I manage.
Reed takes a shallow breath, as if the conversation is hard for him. “I doubt she’ll talk to you.”
“And who do I have to thank for that?”
“I begged you to give me another chance. That’s all I wanted.” He sounds sincere, like the boy he was when we started dating. “I’d never hurt you.”
“Are you delusional?” I fire back. “You did hurt me.” Why am I still talking to him? I should hang up, but it feels good to unleash some of my anger. He deserves it.
“It was an accident.”
Something inside me snaps. “Was lying about pushing me down the stairs an accident, too?”
“I never wanted any of this to happen, Peyton. But you backed me into a corner. If you’d just given me another chance, I could’ve fixed everything. I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I love you.”
A bitter laugh escapes my lips. “Keep telling yourself that, but don’t try to sell it to me. I was there.”
“I get it. You’re not ready to forgive me. But I know you still love me, and I’m not giving up on us.”
The sound of Reed’s voice—a voice I used to love hearing—sickens me now. “I don’t care what you do as long as it doesn’t involve me.”
I hang up just as the door to the girls’ bathroom squeaks open. I duck into the nearest stall. Blue-and-white cheerleading skirts pass by the space between the stall door and the wall.
“Christian is totally playing games again,” a girl says in a slow Southern drawl. “A week ago he said he wanted to ‘get serious about our relationship.’ Then last night we got in this huge fight and he said we needed a break.”
Her friend gasps. “Oh my god, April! He broke up with you?”
“Taking a break isn’t the same as breaking up.” April sounds annoyed.
“They both have the word break in them.”
I try not to laugh.
“Don’t be so literal, Madison. It doesn’t matter. I was about to tell Christian it was over anyway. I’m sick of waiting for him to grow up. He isn’t the only hot guy in Black Water.”
“But he is the hottest,” Madison says. “And y’all will get back together. You always do.”
“That’s the problem. Christian thinks I’ll wait around forever. So I’m gonna show him I won’t.”
The restroom door squeaks open again, and the sound of lipsticks and compacts clattering in makeup bags instantly stops, along with the gossip.
“Hey.” Another girl wearing a blue-and-white skirt enters the mix. “Are y’all going to the party?”
“Why? Are you?” April asks in the bitchiest way possible.
“I’m not sure.” The girl rifles through her purse “Your double pike looked great tonight, Madison.”
Madison ignores the compliment. “I had that down freshman year.”
“FYI, Grace,” April says. “I dumped Christian, so feel free to follow him around like a puppy tonight, like you always do.”
I don’t know much about cheerleading, but these girls are on the same squad, which makes them a team. You don’t gang up on a teammate.
“I don’t follow him around,” Grace says quietly. “We’re just friends.”
“Give it up,” April snaps. “Everyone knows you’re into him. It’s embarrassing. Even before I broke up with him, you were always lurking around. I never said anything because I felt bad for you.”
Okay … she’s definitely a bitch.
“You should go for it,” Madison says. “Maybe Christian will take pity on you.”
The bitches burst out laughing.
Come on, Grace. Tell them to go screw themselves.
Grace stays quiet. All the pent-up emotions I held back during my conversation with Reed suddenly resurface. I slam my palm against the stall door, and it swings around and bangs against the next stall.
The three girls jump.
A quick assessment and I’m ninety-nine percent sure I have all the players pegged. The chesty brunette with freckles wearing too much eyeliner is the ex, April. The tall girl with a ponytail next to her—who looks like she lost a battle with a bottle of self-tanner—is Madison. And the petite girl fidgeting with the ends of her long, straight black hair must be Grace.