The Deal(133)

But then he keeps talking and my anxiety eases. “After that, I sobered up and wised up and decided to make better use of my time. So…I’ve had seven whole days to analyze and reanalyze what happened between us, to dissect what went wrong, to reexamine every word you said that night…” He slants his head. “Do you want to know the conclusion I reached?”

God, I’m terrified to hear it.

When I don’t answer, he smiles. “My conclusion is that you lied to me. I don’t know why you did it, but trust me, I intend to find out.”

“I didn’t lie,” I lie. “We really were moving too fast for me. And I really do want to see other people.

“Uh-huh. Really?”

I put on my most insistent tone. “Really.”

Garrett goes quiet for a moment. Then he reaches out and lightly strokes my cheek before pulling back and saying, “I’ll believe it when I see it.”





42




Hannah


Christmas break doesn’t come soon enough. I am literally a mess as I board the plane to Philly—dressed in sweats, sporting bedhead, and covered with stress zits. Since the showcase, I’ve run into Garrett three times. Once at the Coffee Hut, once in the quad, and once outside the Ethics lecture hall when I came to pick up my graded paper. All three times, he asked me how many guys I’ve dated since our breakup.

All three times, I panicked, blurted out some excuse about being late, and ran off like a coward.

Here’s the thing about breaking up with someone under false pretenses. They don’t buy your bullshit unless you actually turn around and do the thing you said you wanted to do. In my case, I need to be dating a whole bunch of randoms and getting my exploration on, because that’s what I told Garrett I wanted, and if I don’t put my money where my mouth is, he’ll know something’s up.

I suppose I could ask someone out. Go on a very public date that Garrett will no doubt hear about and convince the guy I love that I’ve moved on. But the thought of being with anyone other than Garrett makes me want to throw up.

Fortunately, I don’t have to worry about any of that right now. I’ve gotten a reprieve, because I’ll be spending the next three weeks with my family.

I get on the plane, and for the first time since Garrett’s father issued his punishing ultimatum, I’m finally able to breathe.


Seeing my parents is just what I needed. Don’t get me wrong, I still think about Garrett non-stop, but it’s a lot easier to distract myself from the heartache when I’m baking Christmas cookies with my dad or being dragged into the city for a day of shopping with my mom and aunt.

On our second night in Philly, I told my mom about Garrett. Or rather, she wrestled it out of me after she caught me moping in the guest room. She informed me that I looked like a hobo who’d just crawled out from under the boardwalk and proceeded to shove me in the shower and force me to brush my hair. After that, I spilled my guts, which prompted Mom to launch what she’s now calling Operation Holiday Cheer. In other words, she’s crammed a gazillion holiday activities down my throat, and I love her dearly for it.

I’m not looking forward to going back to Briar in three days, where Garrett is undoubtedly planning his own not-so-covert op—Operation Get Hannah To Admit She Was Lying. I just know he’s going to try to win me back.

I also know it won’t take much effort on his part. All he has to do is look at me with those gorgeous gray eyes, flash that crooked grin of his, and I’ll break down in tears, throw my arms around him, and tell him everything.

I miss him.

“Hey, sweetie, are you coming down to watch the ball drop with us?” Mom appears in the doorway and holds up a bowl of popcorn enticingly, and I’m reminded of the first time I spent the night at Garrett’s, when we stuffed ourselves full of popcorn and watched hours of television.

“Yeah, I’ll be down soon,” I answer. “I just want to change into comfy clothes.”

Once she walks off, I climb off the bed and dig around in my suitcase for a pair of yoga pants. I wiggle out of my skinny jeans and replace them with the soft cotton pants, then head downstairs to the living room, where my parents, my aunt and uncle, and their friends Bill and Susan are all lounging on the L-shaped couches.

I’m spending New Year’s Eve with three middle-aged couples.

Par-ty.

“So, Hannah,” Susan pipes up, “your mother was just telling me that you won a prestigious scholarship recently.”