After Math (8 page)

I adjust the strap of my bag on my shoulder. “It was good.”

“Do you have time to grab a coffee?”

We both know the question isn’t
do I have the time
, but will I agree to it.

I’m tense enough with the test looming on Friday, I’m not sure I need this aggravation. I brush the back of my hand against my forehead. “I really need to study.”

His mouth purses. “It’s only twenty minutes. Then you’ll have an hour before Arabic.”

I’m irritated that he’s trying to arrange my study time, but he’s right. It’s only twenty minutes out of the seven hours I estimate that I have left to study. “Okay.”

He grins, looking so happy that I feel guilty for almost telling him no.

Daniel talks about the movie on the way to The Higher Ground. Since I didn’t notice most of it, I have little to contribute, not that he seems to notice. I could be offended by this but instead see it as a relief. I’m not required to carry much of the conversation.

He remembers how I take my coffee—medium roast, room for cream and sugar—and orders mine with his.
That’s thoughtful, right
? Is it wrong that I have to ask myself?

We sit at a table by the window, and I see Tucker walking across the campus. He’s with a group of people, and he’s in the center. I recognize two of the guys from the party a couple of weeks ago. My heart seizes when I realize they are coming to The Higher Ground. What will he think about me sitting with Daniel? Then again, maybe he’ll be happy. He was the one who encouraged me to date him.

My frustration mushrooms. This is why I need rules. I know he cares
something
about me, but I can’t help thinking it’s more than just friendship. He never told me why he came over last night, and his comforting seemed to be more than that of just a friend.

Life is so freaking complicated. People make it even more so. Why can’t they just follow rules?

Daniel has stopped talking. His face is expressionless as he watches me, and I wonder what I’ve done or missed. A quick mental inventory reveals only one thing—my attention is at the door where Tucker came in, my gaze fixed on his group. My chest locks down, and I push against the panic that fills my head.

Why am I freaking out?

“You don’t have a thing for Tucker Price, huh?” Daniel asks, his voice cold.

Tucker’s face looks up from the pastry case at the sound of his name. His eyes widen when he sees me.

“Daniel,” I say as calmly as possible, willing my racing heart to slow down. “You know I tutor him.”

“Does that mean you have to check him out the minute he walks in the door?” he asks in a hateful tone.  “I see the look on your face, Scarlett. You have a thing for Tucker Price just like every other slut in this school.”

Tucker’s face contorts into an expression I’ve never seen him wear. Cold rage. He’s next to our table in two seconds, looking at Daniel through narrowed eyes. “Is there a problem here, Bailey?”

Daniel stands and grabs his backpack. “I don’t see how it’s any of your fucking business.”

“It became my business when you brought my name into it.”

I’m in the middle of a nightmare. It has to be, because there’s no way I could be caught in something like this in real life.

Daniel shakes his head with a sneer. “So what? You’re an attention whore. You should love that I’m throwing your name around.”

Tucker’s jaw clenches. “I don’t give a fuck if you talk about me. But I
do
give a fuck how you’re talking to Scarlett.”

Disbelief sweeps across Daniel’s face. “You’ve got to be shitting me.” His gaze moves to me and back to Tucker. “You don’t think you fucked enough of the girls on campus? Now you’re going after the academic type? Or are you
just
interested in the girls I want to fuck?”

I don’t realize what’s happened until Daniel falls to the ground. He clutches his face as blood gushes from beneath his fingers. Tucker has just punched him.

Tucker leans over him and points. “If I ever hear you talking about Scarlett like that again, I’ll beat the living shit out of you. Got it?” His voice is cold and hard and scary.

Everyone stands around us in shock. Then their eyes turn to me.

I’m still in my seat, my mouth hanging open. My diaphragm is stuck, refusing to push up or pull in oxygen to fill my lungs.

Tucker’s face softens as he squats in front of me. “Let’s go.” He grabs my arm and pulls me up, picking up my bag with his other hand. Since my feet have forgotten how to move, he drags me outside and around the side of the building where the gawkers can’t see us. Pushing my back against the wall, he drops my bag to the ground and leans over into my face. “Scarlett, take a breath.”

I look up at him wide-eyed. My head is getting fuzzy.

He cups my jaw and his fingers softly stroke my cheek. “You’re safe now. No one is watching you. Just relax.”

His touch is magical because that’s the only explanation I can come up with that explains why my body responds to his commands. My lungs inflate as I close my eyes.

“I’m sorry.” His forehead leans against mine. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

My eyelids flutter open to see despair on his face.

He lifts his head. “Has anyone else given you shit about tutoring me?” His voice is quiet, but there’s a hardness that tells me that he’s about to hunt people down if I say yes.

I shake my head. “No. Just Daniel.”

His eyes enlarge, and his words are tight. “Did you go on a date with him last night?”

“Tucker—”

“He’s the one who made you cry?” He starts to pull away from me, but I grab his arm.

“Tucker, please. Don’t.”

His expression softens. “I’m sorry, Scarlett. I was the one who forced you into this situation. I encouraged you to go out with him.”

“No. I decided to go out with him on my own.”

“I just want you to be happy.”

I gawk at him. He knows what will make me happy, yet he’s not interested.

“I feel like I’ve screwed up your life, barging in and forcing you to tutor me. I’m sorry.”

I shake my head. “I’m not sorry.”

“How can you say that?”

How do I answer him? I want to say that he makes me feel like maybe everything can be okay, as long as he’s with me. That he makes me realize things about myself I never considered before. That my short time with him makes me want to live my life, not just watch it pass by. But my tongue refuses to respond except for three little words. “I like you.”

His eyebrows lift, then he laughs softly. “I like you, too.” Then his laugh fades and his eyes darken. “I think I more than like you.”

“I more than like you, too.”

His hand returns to my cheek, tilting my face up to his. His eyes search mine. “I’m not good enough for you, Scarlett. You deserve a hell of a lot better than me and for sure a hell of a lot better than Daniel Bailey.”

“That’s for me to decide, not you.”

“I’ll hurt you, Scarlett. I hurt every single person who gets close to me. I
always
fuck it up.”

I think about what he just did to Daniel and how he makes me feel. “I’ll take my chances.”

He draws a ragged breath and looks like he’s in pain as he exhales. “If I kiss you now, I won’t be able to let you go, and you’ll end up hating me. Tell me to walk away right now before it’s too late. Tell me to leave you alone so you can have the life you deserve, Scarlett Goodwin, and not get stuck with a fuckup like me.” The agony on his face tells me he believes every word.

It makes me want him even more.

Chapter Seventeen

On Thursday, Tucker shows up for Western civ, but other than offering me a sad smile when he walks in, he doesn’t pay any attention to me for the rest of the class. When the hour’s over, he leaves before I can say anything to him. Not that I would. He made his choice. I won’t beg him.

I don’t want to arrive at Panera early, but it’s like a sickness and I can’t help myself. I’m not sure what I’ll find. Will Tucker be early again? Will he even show at all?

But he’s here. Waiting outside. The day is overcast and his hands are stuffed under his armpits. He turns his head toward me, but there’s no smile this time. Only sorrow and disappointment.

He opens the door for me, and we walk inside without saying a word. I head straight for our usual table, but Tucker goes up to the counter and returns with coffees and a bagel for me. I look up at him, and he stares back, his face expressionless, as though he’s waiting for my reaction.

The events of yesterday come rushing back in to my head. My eyes well with tears. Tucker’s eyes widen before he slides into the booth seat next to me, wrapping an arm around my back and pulling my head to his chest.

“Scarlett. I’m sorry.”

I have no idea what he’s sorry for—for my tears, for his unwillingness to take a chance on me—I only know that when he holds me close, the anxiety is gone even if the pain remains. For the last nine years, since my first panic attack, I’ve searched everywhere for a way to ease the panic. And here it is with Tucker.

Where is the justice in that?

We sit like this for a long time, like the night outside my apartment. Tucker presses his cheek to my temple.

“Are you better?”

I could tell him no, in hope that he’ll hold me longer, but I refuse to lie to him. Especially him. Even if it gets me what I want most in the world. “Yes.”

“Want to talk about it?”

What is there to say? He told me what he wanted yesterday. There’s nothing to discuss. “I think we should get started with your lesson. We’re already late getting started, thanks to me.”

“Scarlett…”

I shake my head as he watches me. “Don’t.”

He nods and moves across the table, pulling his books out of his bag.

I reach for my coffee, and my hand shakes.
Damn it
. The stress of this week is destroying all the progress I’ve made in the last two years. All this time, I thought that if I worked hard enough at school I’d graduate and get the perfect job, and then I’d be totally self-sufficient and never need anyone to make me feel complete. My mother spent my entire life running after men, trying to find one who would take care of her. Admittedly, most were losers, but there were a few who were kind to me and stuck around long enough to fill in for the father I’d never known but always longed for. Yet every time I got attached one of them and relied on them to be part of my life, Momma soon moved onto
greener pastures,
and I was left with a giant hole in my heart. It didn’t take long to see that I couldn’t count on anyone or anything to stay with me. My life is a revolving door for people. I’ve accepted this, and despite my occasional dating attempts, I’m prepared to live my life alone.

What Tucker doesn’t know is that I don’t expect him to stay. I don’t expect anyone to stay.

His hand covers mine, and I realize I’m looking out the window, crying. He wipes my tears from my cheeks and stares at me, his face unreadable.

He doesn’t say anything, and my heart is breaking into pieces. How can I feel this way about someone I just met a few weeks ago? Perhaps it’s because for the first time in my entire life, I’m not invisible.

Panic swims in his eyes when my tears still flow. “I think I get this part.” He points to his notebook. “Do you want to work on something of your own?”

I pull out my own books, starting to freak out that I’ve spent so much time crying about my love life, or at least my pathetic attempts at it, that I’ve lost valuable study time for my math test on Friday. And when I have attempted to study, I’ve been unable to focus. I take several deep breaths. I need to calm down.

His hand reaches across the table and covers mine, and I close my eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I push out. “I have a test tomorrow, and I’m not nearly ready.”

“You’ll do fine, Scarlett.”

I open my eyes and search his face. His smile is full of confidence and pride.

“How can you possibly know that?”

He turns serious, his thumb stroking the back of my hand. “Because I believe you can do anything you set your mind to.”

I bite my lip, uncertain how to respond. How can this boy I’ve known such a short time have more faith in me than my own family? More faith than anyone who’s ever been part of my life?

How can he expect me to sit here with him when he admits he wants to be with me, yet refuses to do anything about it? I’d rather he take a chance and break my heart than tease me with something I can never have.

I close my books and pick up my bag. “I can’t do this.” I shake my head, and my fingers tremble as I try to open the clasp of my pack. “I thought I could, but I just can’t. It hurts too much.” Maybe I look like a fool telling him that, but I promised myself I’d be honest with him. If I’m telling him goodbye, he deserves to know why.

His face pales, and he reaches for my hand. I close my eyes as he cradles my palm, waiting for him to say something. Anything.

I wait for at least ten seconds.

Maybe we can be friends later, but for now, I need some distance. I pull my hand from his. My trembling fingers struggle to shove my books in my bag. Then I stand, hesitating. Giving him one last chance before I walk away.

He looks up at me in horror, but remains silent.

My only thought is that I need to escape to the sanctuary of my room. I’ve held it together as long as I can. I walk as calmly as possible out to my car, but my fingers fumble with my keys. Frustration wells up in me, adding to my heaping pile of pain and fear, and a sob escapes. Why can’t I open the damn door? It’s such a simple thing. It’s a fucking door, but I can’t even do that right.

I can’t ever do anything right. My own mother doesn’t want me. Why would I think someone else would?

I’ve always known I’d be alone. How is it that for years I’ve accepted that fate without qualm, yet a few weeks with Tucker makes that feel like a death sentence?

More tears blur my eyes, and the keyhole is impossible to see. I need to calm down. I need to get myself together and get out of here before I make a fool of myself.