If I'm Being Honest(35)
I have to work harder when Jason forces himself between Elle and me and plants himself on our bench. I pointedly lean away from him, turning to face Morgan.
“What are you doing?” Elle’s voice is prickly with annoyance.
“Sitting with you at lunch,” Jason replies, clearly pleased and pretending this is normal.
Elle drops her voice, but her impatience with Jason is unmistakable. “That’s girlfriend-boyfriend territory. I’m fairly certain your girlfriend is over there.”
Elle doesn’t dance around what she wants. It’s the same when it comes to her YouTube career and her personal life, and it’s why she has the success she does in the former—and, honestly, very little in the latter. She never compromises. I’ve known her long enough to know Jason’s seriously getting on her nerves. I glance over and, sure enough, I recognize her stony expression and the deepening line in between her eyebrows.
“Come on”—Jason nods in Leila’s direction—“it won’t be long before that’s over.” He looks at Elle with what appears to be earnestness. “We could have all the girlfriend-boyfriend territory. Just say the word.”
Elle avoids his eyes, her voice unwavering. “We talked about this, Jason.”
He places his hand on top of hers. “Elle—”
She yanks her hand away. “Just don’t,” she says dismissively.
The arrogance falls from his face, replaced by something almost vulnerable. “So I’m good enough for fifteen minutes at lunch, but I’m not good enough for a relationship?” I hear the hurt in his voice hidden under indignation.
“I told you what I wanted from the beginning,” Elle replies furiously. “You have no right to be surprised.”
Jason gets up abruptly, nearly knocking my soda onto Morgan’s lap. “You know,” he says, “you’re the one who found me at that party, while I had a girlfriend. You convinced me to cheat. What, did you only want to screw up my relationship with Leila? Because you obviously weren’t really interested in me.”
“I wanted what I wanted. I don’t have to explain it.” Elle’s expression is flat, disinterested. “Go away, Jason.”
Jason waits for a moment, probably hoping she’ll reconsider. But when Elle doesn’t even look up, he finally walks off without a word. With a nonchalant flip of her hair, Elle returns to her lunch.
I watch her, feeling an unfamiliar unease. I’ve never cared about Jason and Leila’s relationship. I don’t even like Jason Reid. I just can’t help noticing how devastated he is, and it’s obvious how little Elle cares. How . . . content she looks to ruin his relationship because she wanted him and then didn’t.
It’s not only the ruthlessness of Elle’s behavior that bothers me. It’s the recognition I felt watching her wreck someone without a thought except for herself.
It’s something I would do. Something I have done, with Grant and Hannah.
I don’t know if it’s because I want Andrew to think I’m a decent human being or because consciously admitting and cataloguing my misdeeds has me seeing them in a new light, but the idea of treating people like Elle just did twists my stomach in a knot. I’d never known it for what it is, never known Elle and myself for what we are.
Selfish.
Elle peels an orange, digging her perfect nails under the skin. One by one, she places pieces of the rind in a discreet pile. “Brad, you’re going to the college fair, right? You have to talk to Harvard,” she says, every trace of Jason forgotten.
* * *
I finish today’s hill run in a minute over my usual time. I’m distracted, and now it’s even affecting my cross-country performance. I walk in the gates to Beaumont’s back field, wringing my headband in frustration. The sun’s come out, because once again, the California weather can’t make up its mind. The cheerleaders are constructing a human pyramid on the field for practice, and next to them is the soccer team, which I avoid looking at.
When I reach the girls’ locker room, I’m greeted by the sight of Jason making out with Leila against the concrete wall of the gym. I know he’s hoping I’ll run and tell Elle, and she’ll become insanely jealous and want him back.
Not going to happen. I walk into the locker room without a second glance.
As I’m collecting my bag, I hear Leila come in. She opens her locker next to mine. “Good run today,” she says, sounding unsurprisingly chipper given the five solid minutes she just spent enmeshed with Jason.
“Yeah,” I reply. I don’t know what to say. Zipping up my bag, I head for the door.
But with one hand on the handle, I pause, remembering for the hundredth time today when I was cruel to her about Jason. How the pain bled into her eyes. Why she’s thrilled Jason’s paying attention.
Leila’s on my amends list. Better now than never.
I take a breath and walk back to her locker. Her eyes flit up to mine, questioning. “Hey,” I begin. “I’m sorry for what I said on Tuesday, about your boyfriend not being interested in you. It was a shitty thing to say, and I want you to know I regret it.”
Leila’s smile slips. “Thank you,” she says. “It’s big of you to apologize. Besides”—she nods toward the door—“I think it’s pretty obvious you were wrong.” She puts her hands on her hips, but her voice is thin, like she’s not convinced.