Don't Kiss the Messenger (Edgelake High School, #1)(74)

Back to the moment you started lying to me? I figured.

“Back to the accident,” she said.

This detail surprised me. I sucked in a breath and nodded for her to continue.

“I don’t remember a lot. Just this red heat when the dashboard hit my face. Then I was in and out of surgeries for a few weeks. I can remember waking up and feeling gauze on my face, like I suddenly grew alien skin.” She reached up and rubbed the right side of her face. “It’s weird, that feeling never really went away.”

She swallowed. I could tell she wasn’t used to talking about this. Maybe she had never talked about it before. I dug my hands in my sweatshirt pockets.

“I overheard my dad and my aunt talking in the hospital room when they thought I was asleep. My aunt said she thought I needed an outlet, something to keep my mind off of my face. She was worried how people would react. Then she said anyone who is worth anything would be able to see past the scars. That’s what my mom always says, too. That’s what everybody says, you know, like my face is some obstacle people need to get past.” CeCe smiled this sad smile. She lifted her shoulders and that confident edge filled her eyes. “But my dad said something that day that I’ll never forget. He said anyone who is worth anything will love me all the more because I have the scars.”

A single tear crawled down her cheek. I bit my lips together. It was killing me to see her break. Half of me wanted to forgive her, instantly. Half of me still felt betrayed. I knew she had a messed up past, but it didn’t justify her actions.

“It still doesn’t excuse what you did,” I said.

She nodded. “I know,” she said. “But you thought everything I wrote was a lie, and you’re wrong. It was all true. Every word I wrote was true. I was trying to tell you how I felt about you.”

Something inside of me started to shift. “Then why didn’t you just tell me? You used Bryn. You hid behind her.”

She nodded slowly. “You’re right.”

“Then why did you do it?”

She threw up her arms. “How else was I supposed to tell you?” she said. She looked relieved to finally come clean. “How else would you have listened?”

“I would have listened,” I insisted.

“You should see the way you looked at Bryn. Like she was a mythical creature you could barely accept as being real. I could see poetry behind your eyes when she walked in the room.”

I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t deny that I thought Bryn was gorgeous, but that’s not why I fell for her.

“I just couldn’t imagine that you would ever be able to look at me that way.”

I stared at her. It didn’t make sense. “Are you talking about your scar? Your scar’s never turned me off. If anything, it makes you stand out. It makes you who you are. Don’t you see that I get that?”

“Yes!” she cried. “You’re the first person who ever has. By the time I realized it, things were such a mess. I’m sorry, Emmett, I thought those first texts would just be harmless. I didn’t expect to fall for you.”

She shrugged her shoulders, helplessly.

“I didn’t know any other way to tell you.”

She turned and headed down the sidewalk. I watched her disappear down the street. I thought about her question. Would I have listened? Would I have noticed her while I was so captivated by Bryn?

I hadn’t forgiven CeCe, but I was starting to understand. I had a part to play in this, too.

Another thought surfaced in my head. If it was true, if she really fell for me, and everything that I wrote was true as well, where did that leave us?





Chapter Twenty-Nine


Emmett


A week later I sat on a piano bench in the music studio. I had opted for practicing at school, so I didn’t disturb my roommates and lately I had been craving to play. Strumming a guitar no longer sufficed—I needed to pound my frustration out on the keys, the same way CeCe’s confession was pounding my brain.

I felt like someone was watching me and I turned and saw Frank leaning against the door frame like he was a sudden apparition.

“Do you always creep up on people like that?” I asked.

“They don’t call me The Ghost for nothing,” he said.

“Among other nicknames,” I reminded him. The Ghost was his most charitable.

“Shouldn’t you be heading home for the holidays?” he asked. The campus had slowly been filtering down the last few days, and now the only people left were athletes and an occasional professor.

“We have practice for a few more days,” I said. “What about you?”

He shook his head. “Forced merriment and jubilation isn’t really my thing.”

He surprised me and walked all the way into the room. He sat down on a red vinyl stool in the corner and stretched out his legs. He pushed the stool back and forth. He folded his fingers over his stomach, always clad in thin black gloves.

I stared at him. Was Frank attempting to be social?

“So, your music’s been sounding pretty good,” he said.

Coming from Frank, the king of insults, I knew it was a compliment. I nodded slowly and looked down at the keys. Lately I had preferred the company of piano keys over people. They made a hell of a lot more sense.