Undecided(96)

“Yeah. I know.”

“Then…what?” I think about all my unanswered texts. The apologies. The Christmas present. “The necklace?” I ask softly. “It’s on the counter. I can get it. I was going to ask Kellan to return—”

“Not the f*cking necklace, Nora.”

I’m mid-turn, one foot on the bottom stair, when the quiet words bring me to a halt. There’s no vehemence there, no anger, only sadness. Exhaustion. As though being angry has left him wrung out and raw. I know the feeling.

For a long, exposed minute, we just look at each other, and then I can’t do it anymore. I blink away tears as best I can, but I feel them catch on the ends of my lashes and finally I give up and shrug helplessly. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I texted you a thousand times, I left messages. I’m sorry, Crosbie. I’m so sorry. I don’t have anything else to say.”

His jaw flexes and he nods. “Right.”

“Do you want me to say something else? To say I regret it? That I regret not telling you? That I regret going to that stupid party? Because I do. I regret everything. But how was I supposed to know you—I—this—” I gesture between us weakly, “was going to happen? I couldn’t know—I didn’t know—” I break off when the tears are too heavy and I taste them on my lips. “I need a tissue.” What I really need is space. Because though I’ve spent the past two weeks wanting nothing more than to see Crosbie, talk to Crosbie, the reality of him is so much different now.

The reality of me is different for him, too.

I’m Nora Bora and Red Corset and everything in between.

I grab a tissue from the bathroom and mop up my eyes, dragging in deep breaths and willing myself to calm down. When I come back out, Crosbie’s sitting on the arm of the couch, jacket unzipped. With the exception of the now-missing Chrisgiving decorations, the place looks pretty much the same. My life had been contained to my room, and unless he went to the door and peered inside, there’s really no way to tell I’d ever been here.

I just stare at him. I don’t know what else to do.

“It’s not fair,” he says, scuffing his socked toe on the hardwood floor.

I swallow. “I know.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not fair that I have a list I have to f*cking paint over, and you have, what—five minutes in a closet?—that gets you a nickname and a witch hunt.”

I’m not sure I’m breathing anymore. “Wh-what?”

“I mean, it’s not fair that my girlfriend had sex with my best friend, but how could we have known?”

“Cros—”

“I was at that party, Nora. And I never saw you. You were wearing a f*cking red corset and I never saw you. Then you show up here, trying to be invisible, and all of a sudden I couldn’t see anybody else.”

“Wh—”

He scrubs his hands on his thighs, as though his palms are sweaty. “I had to think about things. You broke my f*cking heart that night. I know you didn’t mean to, but it doesn’t mean you didn’t.”

I wince. “I know.”

His gaze travels across the room to the little red box sitting on the counter. “I guess you do.”

“I’m sorry, Crosbie.”

“I went home because I thought the distance would make it easier, that not seeing you would make it easier, but it didn’t. I think about you all the time. I have, ever since September. And I tried going out, doing whatever, and I just couldn’t stop thinking. I couldn’t turn it off. Because I don’t want to be that guy on the bathroom wall, anymore than you wanted to be the girl on Kellan’s stupid list.”

Even though I know we’ve been broken up for weeks, the thought of him going out and “doing whatever” still makes my heart crack in two. “Did you—”

He shakes his head, knowing exactly what I’m thinking. “I didn’t mess around with anybody. I was home by nine every night. That’s when my parents knew something was up.”

“What did you tell them?”

“That there was a girl.”

“What’d they say?”

He smiles faintly. “That it was about time.”

“Did you tell them about…” I can’t say the words. Now that they’re out there, I can’t say them anymore than I can take them back.

“No. Of course not. That’s your secret to tell. Or not.”

“I’d really rather not.”

“Me either.”

The silence stretches thin again.

“Crosbie.” The word sounds scratchy. “Why are you here?”

He lifts a shoulder helplessly. “Because I wanted to see you. I always have.”

“Even—”

“I got your texts.”

I stop.

“All one hundred and fourteen of them.”

I cringe. “I didn’t—”

“It’s okay. Kellan sent three hundred and twenty-two. Compared to him, you were completely uninterested in my well-being.”

I laugh weakly. “Did he tell you he kicked me out? That’s why I’m moving.”

“Yeah. He told me.”

“Did he tell you bros before hos?”