Crimson Death (Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter #25)(60)

“Just say it’s not like that, then! You don’t need to get with a girl to prove there’s nothing going on with me.”

“They’re always, always digging, Ollie. I told you how they used to joke about you, right? You don’t know the half of it. You aren’t friends with them. You don’t know what they’re really like.”

“But that’s the point,” I said. “I’m not friends with them. But they’ve been friends with you for ages. They know you. They like you.”

“Exactly. It’s different for you, because they haven’t known any other version of you. You’re wearing a fucking necklace right now, and no one’s said shit. It’s, like, your thing. But it’s not my thing. My thing is being a basketballer, and being one of the guys. You think I’d get away with coming to school tomorrow wearing a necklace with a pendant on it?”

“Look,” I said. “I get why you’re scared, honestly. Of course you are. Coming out is scary, and—”

“I’m not ready to come out!” he shouted.

“I am not asking you to,” I said, slapping the steering wheel in frustration. “But if I’m with someone, yeah, I fucking expect that they aren’t going to go dirty dance with someone else to prove a point, or insult the way I dress or act in front of their friends.”

“I said I’m sorry!”

“I don’t care if you’re sorry! I didn’t want an apology. I wanted you to think of me, and care about how I’d feel, before you did something horrible. But you didn’t. So how can I keep doing this if I know the thought of breaking my heart isn’t enough to stop you from doing something no one is forcing you to do?”

“I did it so we can keep hanging out without—”

“No, no, don’t try to act like last night was for my benefit. Why don’t you just admit last night was one hundred percent about you being terrified someone might figure things out, and zero about me?”

“So what if it was?” Will asked. “Am I not allowed to be scared?”

“Of course you are. But that’s the problem. If you’re so worried about what people might think that you need to do shit like that as a response? How am I supposed to be with someone who could do that to me?”

Will folded his arms and shook his head. Apparently he had no reply. Which only incensed me more.

“You treat me like dirt. You’ve noticed that, right? And every time you apologize, I think it’ll be different this time, but it’s never different. You genuinely do not seem to give a shit about whether I’m okay.”

“That’s not true—”

“It’s true, Will! I would never do something I knew would hurt you. Not to save myself from embarrassment, or to throw people off my tracks, or anything. I just wanted that from you.”

“I didn’t—”

“I just wanted you to care,” I cried. My throat felt clogged up, and I knew I’d start crying any second now, so I chose anger. Better than sadness. And hurt. “But you didn’t, and you don’t. So, get the fuck out of my car and leave me alone.” He paused for a while, and I shoved my key in the ignition. “I said get out of my car. I need to go babysit the kids. I’m already late.”

He nodded. Silently, blinking, he climbed out of my car and walked across the parking lot with his arms still folded tightly across his chest. A junior accidentally stopped in front of him, and Will shoved his way past with way more force than he needed to, lowering his head as he went.



And so, Will and I commenced operation: silent treatment.

It was hard to say who was ignoring who, because we both put our best effort into pretending we had no idea who the other was. No texts, no eye contact, no speaking in class. It was too late for him to move desks in Music Appreciation, but he pettily started sitting as far to one side of it as he could, with his back turned at a slight angle so he didn’t even have to see me in his peripheral vision.

It wasn’t so bad during lunch, at least, as Darnell suddenly didn’t seem to want anything to do with Niamh, so the basketball guys kept to their own table. Which sucked for Niamh, but it was hard to feel too sorry for her, because I was too relieved I didn’t have to field awkward silences from Will when all I wanted to do was eat a chicken panini in peace.

When Juliette had come back to school, high on life after nailing her audition at the Conservatory, she’d said it was like walking into the aftermath of a nuclear holocaust. “How did all three of you get into this much drama in the two days I was off school?” she’d asked when we finished filling her in during homeroom.

But we adjusted to the absence of the guys quickly enough, and after a couple of weeks we’d settled into a new vibe. A we-don’t-need-any-men (except Ollie, he’s all right) vibe. And everything was fine. You know, not epically great or anything, but fine. Right up until the day Juliette started sobbing into her cheeseburger at lunch, plumb out of nowhere.

Lara looked mildly alarmed at the sudden display of emotion, and Niamh and I sprang into action right away.

“Oh my God, what’s wrong, honey?”

“Hey, what’s up? You all good? Nah, you’re not all good; why’d I even ask that? What happened?”

Juliette buried her face in her hands and gave a frustrated, sobby groan. “I didn’t want to talk about this. I thought I was fine.”