Crimson Death (Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter #25)(52)

“Yeah.”

“I would go with you if I could.”

I tried to smile, but my muscles worked against me. The thing is, he could. He was just choosing not to. And whether they were good reasons or not, he was still choosing not to go with me. And if he absolutely had to do that, fine, but couldn’t he go alone?

I probably should’ve said that to him, but I didn’t for two reasons. One, because I was terrified he’d hear me practically beg him to do something important for me and still say no. Two, because I didn’t want him to go alone because I asked him to. I wanted him to go alone because he truly believed that if he couldn’t go with me, he didn’t want to go with anyone.

“I can’t wait to see you all suited up,” Will said in a quiet voice. “I really do wish I could go with you.”

He was looking at me in this intense way. No one had ever looked at me like that before. Like I was the most special person in the world, and he’d only just realized.

I opened my mouth, and a whole bunch of really appropriate things were supposed to come out. Something along the lines of “Thank you,” or, “I’ll text you later,” or, “It’s super cold out here, huh.”

But then my mouth—completely of its own accord, may I add—did something really stupid.

It said, “I love you.”

Will and I both froze. I don’t know which of us was more shocked, to be honest. Where the hell had that even come from? Of all the times I could’ve picked, and I’d gone with “right after being told he’s going to the dance with his ex-girlfriend.” I didn’t have a clue why I’d said that. Why did I say that? I was so angry, and hurt, and I came out with that? If your meal has a freaking toenail in it, you don’t ask for a dessert menu. If your not-really-boyfriend does something selfish that makes you feel worthless, you don’t tell them you love them.

I guess I’d wanted to hear him say it back. Because as long as he loved me, then the other stuff didn’t matter, right?

Right?

He gave me a sort-of-smile, but it was more of an “I don’t know how to make this less awkward” smile than an “oh my God the guy I love loves me back” kind of smile.

Mayday. Time to bail out. Immediately. “Well, anyway, I—”

“I really, really like you,” Will said at the same time.

“Oh.” Wow, that came out more high-pitched than I’d hoped. “Cool. That’s really—”

“I care about you a lot.”

“Awesome.” I had to leave right now or it was going to be super obvious I was upset. “Thank you. Wow, it’s, uh, super cold out here, huh? Hey, I actually have this huge essay due Monday and I really need to get home and start on it. So, I’ll text you later?”

Nailed it.

Will studied me for so long I thought he was going to try to let me down easily. I sent him a firm message with my eyes. Don’t. Do not. Please pretend I never said I love you. Please ignore it for me.

“Yeah, sounds good,” he said finally. “I’ll see you later.”

Then we walked away from each other.

Wait, so he was just going to ignore it? The audacity. I tried not to look like I was stalking my way to my car, even though that’s exactly what I was doing.

Okay, so maybe I didn’t want to pretend I’d never said it.

But I didn’t want to hear how much he liked me, either.

I wanted to hear he loved me.

Why didn’t he say it?

Had I said it too soon? How soon were you supposed to bring that up? Why hadn’t I done some research on this first? I’d never said I love you before, I didn’t know how it worked. I mean, we’d been a thing for seven months now, on and off. It was reasonable to love someone by seven months, right? Wasn’t it weirder that he didn’t love me yet?

Oh my God, he didn’t love me.

My hands were shaking as I got out my keys, and it took me three tries to slot one into the ignition. As soon as the car started, a Letlive song blasted out at full volume. I smacked the power button so hard I hurt my hand. It didn’t matter, though. I just needed to leave. Now.

I got out of the parking lot and drove over several streets. I didn’t know which way Will took home, but there was no way he’d come down this many side streets. Still, I weaved my way through a few more to be safe. I drove aimlessly for a while, then my breath started catching in my throat. I managed to pull to the side of the road, swore as loudly as I could, and then smacked my fist against the dashboard.

But yelling and hitting things didn’t make it go away. Images started swirling around and around and around. Will screwing up his face at the thought of dressing like me. Turning his back on me at the beginning-of-school party. Looking at me across the cafeteria then looking away. And those endless weeks of silence after summer.

He could’ve logged into his accounts on someone else’s phone, I realized suddenly. I’d accepted his excuse at the time, him being grounded and all. But so what? Why didn’t he try harder? If he really cared about me, why didn’t he find a way around the rules, even if it was only to let me know why he’d be AWOL? Surely he’d realized what I’d be thinking when he disappeared. How I would’ve felt. Why didn’t he care enough to find a way to reach me?