Leah on the Offbeat (Creekwood #2)(38)

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because.” I swallow. “I don’t want to make things weird for you.”

“You’re not.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“About Nick?” She presses her lips together.

“We don’t have to,” I say quickly.

“No, it’s fine. I’m just . . .” She nods, staring at the road. “Okay, this stays between us, right?”

“Of course.” I smile. “Whatever happens in Athens stays in Athens.”

“We’re not in Athens yet.”

I glance up at the exit signs. “Okay, whatever happens in Lawrenceville . . .”

“Promise?” She stretches her hand toward me, pinkie extended.

I hook it with my own. “Promise.”

I don’t think I’ve pinkie sworn since I was ten years old.

“I don’t know what to do, Leah.”

“About Nick?”

She tucks a curl behind her ear and exhales. “Yeah. Kind of. I mean, I talked to Simon, and he obviously thinks I’m making a huge mistake, but . . . I don’t know. Like, do I feel shitty right now? Yeah. But it’s not because I want him back.”

I just look at her. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. I know Simon would want me to challenge this somehow, or at least press for details. But it’s like I’ve been pushed onto a stage to recite lines I’ve never rehearsed. How would I know how a breakup’s supposed to feel? I’ve never even kissed anyone.

Finally, Abby sighs. “I just feel like such a bitch. We’ve been dating for over a year. I love him. I do. It’s just.” She taps the steering wheel. “I don’t want to do long distance. Like, at all. But a part of me feels like I owe him that, since I’m not following him to New England or whatever. Which is ridiculous, I know, but I just feel so guilty.”

“Because you’re not giving up your scholarship to pay student loans for the rest of eternity?”

“Right.” Abby sighs. “I mean, yeah. Why is this even a question?”

“Look, if he wanted to simplify this, he could have applied to Georgia.”

“Yeah.” Abby bites her lip. “Though I’m glad he didn’t.”

Oh.

“Okay.”

“Like, am I the biggest jerk? He’s an incredible guy. He’s been an incredible boyfriend. I mean, he’s Nick. I just can’t . . .” She laughs wryly. “You know, I kept wanting to imagine there was something going on with him and Taylor, because then there would have been a reason to break up with him.”

“Why do you need a reason?”

“Because it sucks that there wasn’t one. I just wasn’t feeling it. At least not as much as I should be? Like, I’m sad about it, but it doesn’t wreck me, and I really feel like it should wreck me.”

I glance at her sidelong. “You want it to wreck you?”

“Do I want to love him enough that leaving him would wreck me? Yeah.”

And somehow, that single word expands like a balloon. It fills the whole car. Yeah.

“Then I think you did the right thing,” I say after a moment. I feel strangely charged up. Like if you touched me, I’d zap.

“I know,” she says softly.

For a minute, we’re both quiet.

“God. I just feel so bad. His birthday’s coming up. Prom’s in two weeks. Like, I’m pretty sure I just ruined everyone’s senior prom.” She laughs flatly. “That’s going to be a fun limo ride.”

“You can’t stay in a relationship just so prom won’t be awkward.”

Abby’s lips tug upward. “It sounds so ridiculous when you put it that way.”

I shrug.

“It’s just such a weird feeling. I’ve never broken up with anyone before.”

“Really?”

“Well, I only had only one real boyfriend before Nick, and he dumped me.” She rakes a hand through her hair, smiling sadly. “Like, how does this work? Am I even allowed to feel good about this?”

“I mean . . . probably not in front of Nick. Or Simon.”

“Yeah.” She laughs out loud. “God. Boys are just so . . . ugh. I’m never dating one again.”

“Maybe you should date girls,” I say.

She grins. “Maybe I should.”

I turn quickly toward the window, face burning.

Just. Holy fuck. I said that.

I didn’t plan to. I don’t know where it came from. But I said it, and it’s out there, thickening the air between us. I have this sudden mental image of our car filling with smoke. But maybe it’s all in my head, because suddenly Abby’s singing along to Wham! like it’s nothing.

I’m sure it really is nothing. Just like the drawing was nothing.

Except she kept it, and I can’t imagine why. I wonder what she thinks about it—or if she even thinks about it at all. She probably just likes how I colored the background. Or she forgot it’s in her phone in the first place.

But here’s what Simon doesn’t know: the drawing’s in my phone, too.

The traffic on Route 29 is suddenly fascinating. There’s a minivan in front of us, with a little stick figure family in the corner of the rear windshield. Perfect magic hetero dream family: mom, dad, two girls, and a boy. Now I’m picturing my own family as a sticker tableau. Mom and me hanging tight in the left corner; Dad on the top right, mostly out of frame. And, of course, Wells creeping his way in on the side. Just your basic American love story.