Don't Kiss the Messenger (Edgelake High School, #1)(69)

“Oh my gosh, CeCe. This is such a mess.”

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” I said. “It was all an accident.”

“Or maybe it was fate?” Tuba offered. I threw her a warning glare. She wasn’t helping. I glanced over at Bryn. I waited for her to yell, to scream, to tell me I was a lying bitch, the lowest common denominator of a human being, all the things I probably deserved to hear. But she was too damn polite. She just sat there, staring at the Christmas lights on our mantel, pouting.

“He’s still your boyfriend, Bryn,” I said. I swallowed because I knew my next words were a lie. “We can fix this.”

She looked over at me and a small grin lifted her lips. I saw amusement behind her eyes, surprise, even relief. I stared at her with disbelief. Maybe she was suffering from shock at being rejected for the first time in her life. Shouldn’t she be irate?

“He just got done telling me you’re the one he wants. I mean, I couldn’t even make out with him. It’s like all my hormones shriveled up.” She looked absolutely defeated. “I couldn’t make out with Emmett Brady. Because I knew he was thinking about another girl. I’ve gotta go,” she said. She stood up and I heard the door shut tightly behind her.

I stared down at the ground. I couldn’t believe what she had said. Emmett didn’t want me.

This had to stop. All of it. I had gone too far. But how do you stop loving someone? How do you cut yourself off from someone who makes you feel alive?





Chapter Twenty-Seven


Emmett


My phone buzzed and I looked down at the message. It was from Bryn. Maybe an apology for the crazy way she had been acting, as if the last few weeks had never happened?

I read the text.

“Hey, Emmett. It’s Bryn. So, lately I’ve been spending a lot of time with Prentice, you know, the rower? We really hit it off. We have a lot in common. Anyway, we want to start dating. I’m sorry! I hope you and I can still be friends. Have a great Christmas break!!!”

I stared at the words. I narrowed my eyes and reread the message. Was this some kind of a joke?

I thought back to the last email she sent me, two days ago. Raw and honest and amazing. Something wasn’t connecting. Then Bryn texted me again.

One more thing.

I waited. A new message popped up.

I think you should know that I didn’t write any of those emails. All the emails I sent you, those were all from—

I didn’t have to finish reading to know what it said.

Maybe, in a way, I had known all along.

I sat on the edge of my bed for a second, frozen, but then adrenaline pushed through my veins. I bolted out of my chair and stomped down the stairs.

I swung the front door open and forgot to grab my coat, but my anger kept me warm, like a tight insulation of heat. I ran toward CeCe’s apartment. Part of my brain told me to calm down first, but I had too much forward momentum to stop. The cold air didn’t cool my mind. My breaths blew out steam like exhaust, like my insides were on fire.

My pace turned into a full-out sprint. I played back the last couple of months in my head. I felt my mind untwisting. It all made sense now. Those emails. Those words.

My heart rapped against my chest.

Who was the fool? Bryn? Me?

I ran up the stairs to her front porch and before I knocked, I stalled. CeCe was clever. Would she deny all of this? Would she lie her way out of it? I had to play this right. I had to catch her in her own trap. I looked down at my phone and opened up the last email that she sent me, two days ago.

I curled my hand into a fist and pounded on the door. A second later, a girl answered that I didn’t recognize. How many girls lived in this place? She must have sensed my confusion or maybe I just looked irrationally angry.

“I’m Kelsey,” she said.

“I need to talk to CeCe,” I said.

She backed up a step and let me in the house. I walked inside and the living room suddenly felt charged with a heated energy. I heard footsteps on the stairs and I looked up when I saw CeCe. I stared at her, trying to wrap my mind around the emails we had exchanged over the last few months. Her mind was behind all of them. Her heart.

She cautiously met my eyes. I had my game face on—intense stare, no smile, hiding any hint of emotion. I had perfected this glare. Even now, with heated anger swarming my head, I could play it cool. I crossed my arms over my chest. My presence probably had all the warm greeting of an interrogation.

CeCe stood quietly at the bottom of the stairs like an actor with stage fright who hadn’t rehearsed her lines.

Kelsey looked between us, sensing we needed privacy.

“Um, I have to run out,” she said and excused herself. She grabbed her winter jacket off the hook on the wall and shut the front door.

We stood there silently for a minute. The radiator hummed next to the window. CeCe looked over at the Christmas tree and back at me.

“So, what’s up?” she asked.

Her question infuriated me. I handed her my phone. It was game time.

“Bryn sent me this email a few days ago.”

CeCe’s eyes narrowed. Her hands stayed at her sides. I might have smiled at her hesitation if I wasn’t so furious. She knew exactly what it said. She didn’t need to be reminded. They were her words.

She shook her head.