Chapter 40

Tuesday passes in a slog.My morning classes crawl by, then I have to see Carter again for the first time as an ex. He doesn’t look at me once in history class, and he doesn’t look sad either. He has bounced right back, his mask has slid right back into place, and he sits over there like he used to up until a few weeks ago, blissfully unaware of my existence.
Since he showed up in my bedroom last night, it crosses my mind a couple times that maybe he will hang back after class like he used to when he was pursuing me, drape an arm around my shoulder and lightly harass me before I make my way out to my car for lunch.
He doesn’t. He walks right past me toward the cafeteria, and I go out to my car in peace. Too much peace. I miss his stupid harassment.
Slamming my car door shut once I’m inside, I lean my head forward and rest my forehead against the steering wheel, trying to get my bearings. I can’t be the only one sad about the break-up I initiated. Carter wanted to stay together, I’m the one who said no. I can’t be the one sitting in my car feeling rejected while he is laughing with his friends at lunch.
Shaking off the light grasp of misery, I tell myself I have two days. Two days to be sad and mourn the relationship that barely got to happen, then I’m done and I move on with my life.
Work helps the evening hours pass, and Wednesday passes more quickly because of youth group in the evening. It’s a light night and we end up playing games. I beat Luke’s ass at air hockey twice, then we break for snacks.
“Wanna go a little easier on me next time? Man, you’re an air hockey beast,” he tells me, shaking his head as he takes a seat on the couch beside me.
I smile, looking down at my plate. Grace was on snack duty tonight, and Grace just can’t help doing too much. Last time I was on snack duty, I brought chocolate chip cookies and a gallon of milk. Grace set up an apple dipper buffet. Every different kind of apple wedge, a trio of dips—peanut butter, caramel, and chocolate—and an assortment of toppings to sprinkle on top, for the adventurous. I got adventurous. I have a peanut butter dipped McIntosh slice coated in graham cracker crumbs, a chocolate dipped slice coated in crushed up Oreos, and a caramel Granny Smith slice covered with salted peanuts. I also grabbed a spoonful of baby marshmallows, for good measure.
“I don’t know, I think after all this sugar, I might be even more ruthless,” I tell him.
Cracking a smile, he looks down at his own plate. He was less adventurous. Three identical wedges covered in caramel with no toppings. “That spread sure is something, isn’t it?” he remarks.
“Grace always goes all out. She knows no other way, I swear.”
“That’s for sure,” he agrees.
I feel a touch awkward eating with him watching me, but I want to try this Oreo-coated deliciousness, so I go ahead and take a bite anyway.
“You should bring Carter to youth group one of these weeks,” Luke says, suddenly.
Just as my tastebuds are dancing with glee at the combination of flavors, he has to go and bring up Carter. “Oh, I don’t think so,” I offer, shaking my head faintly. “Youth group isn’t really Carter’s scene.”
“Sure, maybe it isn’t, but guys tend to do things they don’t always want to do to please their girlfriends,” he tells me, smiling faintly. “I’m sure we’d all like the chance to get to know him. There must be somethin’ we’re not seeing if you think he’s—”
“We’re not together anymore,” I blurt, wanting out of this conversation promptly.
“Oh.” Concern transforms his features. “I’m sorry to hear that. Are you okay?”
“Yep.” I take another bite of my Oreo apple, then lean forward to grab my bottle of water so I can take a drink.
Seeing that I’m not in a sharing mood, he lets it go, simply telling me, “Well, if you ever need to talk about it…”
“I don’t.” I flash him a smile that I hope doesn’t look as stiff as it feels. “Thanks.”

Thursday marksmy official End of Sadness deadline, so I start the day with gumption and sail through with intentional joyfulness. I make it to history, but my mood takes a hit when I see Carter turned around at his desk, offering a charming smile to some girl he is chatting up at the desk behind him. A leggy blonde in snug jeans smiles back, twirling a lock of her chin-length hair and mooning at him.
Two days. God, he doesn’t take long to move onto the next, does he? He might be doing it just to spite me, but it’s entirely possible he’s not, too. The more he projects that he doesn’t care, the more I can’t help believing him.
Oh well. Doesn’t matter. It’s deadline day, and no matter how much flirting is probably going on over there, I will be happy, dammit!
That’s the plan, but I underestimated Carter’s evilness. Throughout the whole class—to the point of the teacher shooting him an evil eye that warns Carter Mahoney or not, he’s about to say something—Carter and Blondie are shameless. She does stupid things to get his attention, and boy, does he give it to her. She pretends to accidentally kick the leg of his chair, so he shoots her a playfully devious look over his shoulder. She drops her pen on the floor in front of her desk, and he oh-so-gallantly bends to pick it up. Cutesy smiling bullshit, casual playfulness—I hate everything.
I can hardly sit still for the bell. When it finally rings, I already have my stuff hugged close to my chest. I’m up and out of my seat, pushing my way down the aisle with mumbled apologies, but I have to get out of this classroom. I can’t breathe.
I practically run to the bathroom, locking myself inside a stall, dropping my books on the floor, and taking a few deep breaths. My tummy is twisted up in knots, my heart beats entirely too fast, and Carter Mahoney is an asshole.
I hate him. He is the absolute worst and I hate him. He knew I could see that shit. Even if he actually likes that girl, he didn’t have to make a spectacle right in front of me when our break-up is still so fresh. He did that shit on purpose, and he is an asshole.
Once I’m calm enough to hold my shit together until I can get to my car—and enough time has passed that the bathroom has emptied of other girls—I collect my things and make my way out of the bathroom.
“Upset stomach?”
I nearly jump out of my skin at the sound of Carter’s voice. When I look back over my shoulder I see him leaning against the wall. He’s wearing jeans and a white T-shirt today. His arms are crossed, his well-shaped biceps grabbing my attention. I might enjoy the sight of them a little more, if not for the new memory of Blondie touching that bicep when she leaned forward to get Carter’s attention about 20 minutes ago.
It’s not enough to ignore him—I want to ignore him so hard it hurts. I want him to feel a sudden Arctic chill from the blast of my coldness. I’m too riled to think straight though, so I settle for glaring at him wordlessly and turning to walk away.
Kicking off the wall, Carter follows after me. “Whoa, princess, what’s that look for?”
“Do not call me that. My name is Zoey. Call me Zoey or Ellis, don’t call me princess.”
“Hm, irritable, too,” he muses. “Maybe I did knock you up.”
“Or maybe I had to pee and I just don’t like you,” I suggest. “Much simpler explanations.”
“That can’t be it. You liked me fine a couple days ago. Oh, wait,” he drawls, annoying the everloving fuck out of me. “You’re not salty because of me and Jenna, are you?”
I want to tell him to go die, but that would only verify I am annoyed by his flirting. “Nope. Don’t even know who Jenna is. New girlfriend already?”
“Nah, you know me. Not big on girlfriends. I prefer playthings.”
Somehow, that hurts more than hearing he has a new girlfriend. My heart shrivels up until it’s too small to fit inside its natural cavity, then it drops into my gut with a painful thud. I can’t come up with anything quick and snappy to toss back. My mind assaults me with a vision of him and the blonde, her in his bed just like I was, her arms wound around his neck, his lips blazing a hot path along her bare skin.
Now I really do want to throw up. Maybe I’m just imagining it, but I can feel his satisfaction. Whether it’s real or imagined, I want to demolish it. That’s the only excuse I have for the lie that tumbles out of my mouth next.
“Good. I’m seein’ someone else already, too. I’m glad we’re both movin’ on.”
“Bullshit,” he fires back.
I cock an eyebrow and look over at him. “Bullshit? You think you’re the only guy in the world, Carter? Not hardly. Plenty of other fish in the sea. Fish that won’t fuck around with their ex-girlfriends, crazily enough. I know, I was surprised, too. Turns out you just have to date the good guys if you don’t want endless drama and heartache.”
That dig seems to do more to legitimize my lie. He stares at me, openly confounded, then snaps, “Who?”
“None of your business,” I tell him. “You have your new plaything, I have someone who meets my needs… we both win.”
“Meets your needs?” he snaps, grabbing me by the arm and yanking me closer.
My gaze drops to his hand on my arm, then moves to his face. “Let me go.”
Instead, he glances around the hall, locates the nearest empty classroom, and drags me into it.