Tutoring the Player (Campus Wallflowers #1)(70)

“Then tell me one thing.”

“Anything.”

“If Liam had never wanted to ask me out and I hadn’t shown interest in him, would you have ever looked twice at me?” Her voice is steel, and her eyes brim with unshed tears.

“I don’t know.”

She smiles sadly and nods, then heads toward the door.

“Don’t go. Please?”

She doesn’t stop.

“Daisy, wait,” I say. “I love you.” The words are out before I can process them, but I know they’re true instantly.

Her body stills. I hold my breath and wait for her reaction.

“You don’t love me,” she says.

“I do,” I insist. “Maybe it started for all the wrong reasons, but I love you.”

“No. This isn’t love. It can’t be. I could never love someone that could do something so cruel.”

My heart cracks wide open as she slams my bedroom door. I rush after her, reaching her as she’s about to give the hallway door the same treatment. With a hand, I stop the door. “I’m so sorry. I should have told you sooner.”

“Yes, you should have. Or maybe just left me the hell alone in the first place.”

“Please don’t go. I need you.”

“No. You don’t. You were pretending to need me, remember?”

Liam’s coming up the stairs. He looks wide-eyed between us and raises a hand in a tentative greeting. “Hey.”

Daisy swipes tears from her cheeks before she faces him. “Can you give me a ride home?”

I start to move in front of her. “Daisy, plea—”

“No,” she says, refusing to look at me. “I don’t want to hear anymore. I just want to go home.”

“Let me take you.”

“Still trying to keep me from him?” She laughs softly. “Don’t worry, after tonight I don’t ever want to see either of you again.”

Liam glances at me, and I nod. He goes out the door first, and she finally looks at me. “She said you would destroy me.”

Violet’s words tear through me, and I want to refute them a thousand times over, but the words sound weak now, all things considered.

She whispers four final words, ripping my heart from my chest. “And she was right.”





30





DAISY





By Wednesday, all evidence of the rain and gloomy weather is gone, and in its place, the sun shines bright and taunting. I pull the pillow over my head. I’m all out of tears which is too bad because for once, I’d like to wail and scream instead of being shy, quiet Daisy.

The house is still. I haven’t seen or spoken to Violet since Saturday night. Jane and Dahlia check on me at least once a day, but the only time I’ve left my room is to go to campus. Violet’s either in her room with the door closed or not home. It hurts to fight with her like this, but after everything that went down Saturday night, I don’t have the energy to hear her say, ‘I told you so’.

I haven’t spoken to Jordan either, though he’s texted and must have come by the house because I found a box of candy on the doorstep when I got back from class yesterday. No note (I guess he figured the dozen of I’m sorry texts were enough), just the entire candy aisle of the gas station up the street. The box is now shoved under my bed with all the other things I don’t know what to do with. Like my heart.

I meet Dahlia downstairs to walk to campus. We have a psychology class together this semester.

“Hi,” she greets me with the same tone you might use when approaching a wounded animal.

“Hey.” We start down the sidewalk. “Thanks for sending your notes from Monday. Mine were a mess.” Like me.

“You’re welcome. How are you doing?” She’s the only one who knows about Jordan. I ran into her when I came home Saturday night and broke down the second I saw her. I needed to tell someone so I could stop hoping it was only a bad dream.

“Okay. Terrible. Depends on the minute.”

The hockey team is out of town for an away game, but it doesn’t stop me from imagining him around every corner as we get to the heart of campus. Every dark head of hair and backward hat makes my pulse spike and my stomach twist. He’s everywhere and nowhere, and I can’t decide which is more devastating.

“Have you talked to Violet yet?”

I don’t answer, but the cutting look I shoot her is all she needs.

“She’s hurting too. You should talk to her.”

“And hear her tell me how she was right? No thanks.”

“Come on. Vi wouldn’t do that.”

I’m not so sure. Not even sure I don’t deserve it. I thought what I had with Jordan was so different than whatever she’d had with Gavin. Untouchable even. That’s the problem with falling in love. It makes you feel invincible. Or maybe that’s just the problem with falling for someone like Jordan.

When class is over, I linger on campus, avoiding home. I go to the bookstore and look around, but the Valley Hockey merch reminds me of him. From there, I go to the art lab and pull out my sketchbook, but after forty-five minutes of holding my pencil to the pad, I haven’t summoned the desire to draw anything. My creative muse is drowning her sorrows in a bottle of Fireball.