Bright Before Sunrise(50)

I brace myself for an argument. Another twelve rounds of “you’re lying/am not.”

But when Carly opens her mouth and asks, “Why are you here?” the sentiment isn’t anger, it’s disappointment.

“I don’t know.” It’s one of the most honest things I’ve said all night.

“You need to do better than ‘I don’t know,’ because I can’t think of a single reason that doesn’t make you a complete jerk. Either you wanted to rub my face in it or if you’re telling the truth and nothing has happened between you two, then you wanted to call me a liar and humiliate her.” Carly’s words make my stomach sink. Both reasons are too close to true. I am a complete jerk—I’m worse than a jerk. “You weren’t always like this. I felt guilty when you left—but Sasha said not to and she was right, because a couple hours later you’re showing up here with the very girl you swore you’ve never touched. It doesn’t matter if that’s true anymore. I don’t know you.”

“Carly. Carly! Stop!” My voice echoes off parked cars and tree limbs. It’s loud enough for them to potentially hear in the basement. Even over the music. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“She’s exactly what I was afraid of.” This is Carly’s vulnerable voice. The one that cries during ASPCA commercials or calls me at two a.m. to tell me she misses me.

“What do you mean?” Without thinking, I lean forward and cup her elbows. It’s natural to touch her. Unnatural to stand apart.

“Jonah, you had no choice about the move—I get that—but you never let me into your new life. We used to share everything, and now I only get a part of you. I don’t understand. What’s so good about Cross Pointe that you couldn’t share with me?”

“So good?” I step back and take a deep breath. Then take another one. My hands are shaking. My voice is too. “You want to hear the truth about my new life, Carly?”

The words are a boulder, sitting on my chest, crushing the air from my lungs and making it impossible to lift my head and look at her when I continue. “It sucks. I hate Cross Pointe. I’m a loser there. Both at school—where I’m invisible and ignorable—and at home, where I’m a disappointment and a screwup. I spend my whole week wishing I were here and avoiding talking to anyone there.”

My confessions poured out in rushes. Now I’m breathless and panting as I wait for her reaction. Wait for her to laugh or scoff.

Or … shrug. “Jonah, it’s a town. You moved, okay? It’s not the end of the world. People move all the time—you need to start dealing with it. People change all the time. You can’t go flipping out because I dye my hair or get a new job or apply to a college you didn’t know about. Life didn’t just freeze because you live in Cross Pointe now.”

“Whatever. I didn’t say it did.” I’m leaning away, shoving my hands in my pockets.

“Come on! Quitting baseball. Asking a zillion questions about everyone here but not offering a single detail about your life there—it makes so much more sense now.”

“Don’t act like you’ve got me all figured out.”

“But I do.” She reaches out and touches my shoulder. “Jonah, I know you. I guess I just didn’t realize how hard this move was for you.”

She approaches me and holds out her arms. I lean into the hug, and she rests her head in the space between my shoulder and chin, a space that’s always seemed designed for her. I inhale the scent of her hair spray and cherry lip gloss while I rub her shoulder. Too relieved, exhausted, and surprised to say anything.

“You should’ve told me,” she coos. “I would’ve understood.”

“I tried to tell you. You were too busy giving me shopping lists.”

“What?”

“All you ever want to hear are stories about their money.”

“What!” she repeats. It’s not a question this time, and she’s leaning back to look up at me. “When have I ever cared about money or designers? I think you might be confusing me with Brighton.”

“How about when you asked to see the label on my new jeans?”

“Um, to get you out of them?”

“And the limo, and the earrings, and cupcakes from that ridiculous CP bakery. Do you know how expensive all that is? I don’t have a job anymore, Carly. I’m scraping the bottom of my bank account to get you all these things you ‘need’ to be happy.”

“I need? Jonah, you used to talk nonstop about how ridiculous everyone was with their money. It was the one thing you would talk about.” She’s blinking back tears. “The limo was fun, the earring are pretty—but what I really wanted was for you to say, ‘I still love you.’ I wanted you not to be too embarrassed to bring me to Cross Pointe. I wanted to walk down their Main Street holding hands, without you worrying that everyone who saw us would think I was your maid or something.”

“They wouldn’t have.” This was a truth I wouldn’t have believed earlier in the night, but that didn’t make it any less true. “Carly, they’re not like that. At least, not most of them.”

“I wish you’d just been honest with me. I don’t want us to fight anymore.”