If I'm Being Honest(74)
I’m the pathetic one. The thought is too heavy to reach my voice. Everyone knows it anyway, Paige especially.
“See?” Paige says. “Not like your dad at all, are you? Has he ever given a genuine apology like that in his life?”
The thought crumbles into a thousand little pieces. “No,” I say, surprised. “I don’t think he has.” It sounds like such a small difference between him and me—just a few words. I’m sorry. But it’s not small. It’s actually really huge. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before.
“Besides,” Paige continues, “you weren’t entirely wrong. You were just saying something I didn’t want to hear.”
“No—” I try to protest, but she cuts me off.
“I hooked up with Jeff Mitchel, and I didn’t even like him. It’s why I was crying when I stumbled into you. I was disgusted with myself, with what a pathetic thing I’d done, and I was starting to wonder if it wasn’t all just a big excuse. If I tell myself I’m doing it to get my parents to notice me, but really I’m just a screwup.”
“You’re not,” I say quickly. “Not at all. Maybe—okay, definitely—hooking up with Jeff was a mistake. But no one’s perfect, right?” She smiles, and I know she remembers the speech she gave her friends before Rocky. “I mean, if it’d make you feel better I could list all the mistakes I’ve made.”
Paige’s lips twitch. “That’s okay. We can’t sit here all night.”
I pull an indignant expression, but Paige starts the car. “Wait, what are you doing?”
She drives back down the block without hesitating. “Your mom’s not home, and we just had a major bonding moment.” She steals a glance at me. “I think you should sleep over. Isn’t that, like, something popular girls like to do?”
I laugh and settle into my seat. “I told you you didn’t know anything about popular girls.”
Paige raises an eyebrow. “Maybe. But I don’t think you do, either. I think you’re just you.”
We sit in comfortable silence the whole drive to Paige’s house.
Thirty-Five
I STARE UP AT PAIGE’S CEILING. HER room is dark, and she’s snoring softly. I’m waiting for sleep, feeling peaceful in a way I could get used to.
It was past eight when we pulled into Paige’s driveway. We ordered pizza—it felt fittingly stereotypical for a slumber party. Brendan didn’t join us. I don’t know where he is, and I didn’t go looking for him. Paige forced me to watch three episodes of Boys Over Flowers, which ended up being nearly four hours because Korean TV episodes run over an hour each. While I didn’t understand everything, I’ll admit she wasn’t forcing me by episode three.
Paige fell asleep pretty much immediately after we finished watching. It’s two in the morning now. I get up and tiptoe to the door, wanting a glass of water.
But when I walk into the hallway, I can’t help noticing an illuminated strip on the floor under Brendan’s bedroom door.
I hesitate. I haven’t wanted to tell Brendan the truth because I haven’t wanted to face how uninterested in me I have to assume he is. It felt like worthwhile reasoning yesterday, even hours ago. Now, I don’t know. I’ve told myself Brendan wouldn’t fit into my life, but just because I haven’t worked it out on paper doesn’t mean it won’t work.
I’ve been honest with everyone else in my entire life, even when it’s to my detriment. If I’m not honest about my feelings toward Brendan I’m not just giving up the possibility of us, I’m betraying myself. If that honesty leads to getting rejected, then okay. I’m not afraid anymore, not after opening up to Paige about things I’ve never felt comfortable telling people close to me. Real friends like Paige accept me for who I am. I won’t be alone even if Brendan rejects me.
I walk decisively to Brendan’s door. Without knocking, I barge in, realizing a moment too late what a sixteen-year-old boy could be doing alone in his room in the middle of the night. Thankfully, Brendan’s only writing in a bulky SAT book when I walk in.
He spins around in his chair, obviously startled. “I didn’t kiss you to resuscitate your social life,” I say, not giving him the chance to ask why I’m here.
His mouth works hopelessly to form words. “Cameron, it’s the middle of the night. Why are you even in my house?”
I close the door and don’t bother with his question. “I kissed you because I had to know what was between us,” I inform him.
Confusion fades from Brendan’s features, replaced by astonishment and finally something guarded. His voice is unsteady when he asks, “What did you conclude?”
“I have to admit something before I tell you,” I reply. I draw in a breath. I’m perched at the edge of a cliff, and finally I’m ready to dive. “You once asked me why I wanted to make amends for the things I’ve done. The truth is, I was doing it to become a better person.” Brendan opens his mouth, but I hold up a hand, halting him. “And I wanted to become a better person so Andrew Richmond would date me.”
Brendan’s expression clouds over with hurt. “Wait,” he says darkly, his eyes flashing, “our entire friendship, you were just using me to impress some other guy?”