“I appreciate that, but —”
“I mean, you have your phone back now,” I said. “And I haven’t IMed Ryder in forever, so the catfishing is over.”
“Good …” She took a deep breath. “But it’s more than just that.”
“I know,” I said. “The texts were kind of dirty and that’s weird for you, and I’m really —”
“Sonny, no,” she said. “I mean, yes. It’s weird. But that’s not what I’m trying to say.”
“Well, then, say it.”
“I’m trying.” She sighed. “I know you really like him. And I know you didn’t mean to upset me. You’d never mean to do that. But … this whole thing has gone on a lot longer than I thought.”
“What whole thing?”
“Your plan,” she said. “To make Ryder like you and not like me. Me acting weird and rude around him. I just … I really don’t feel comfortable doing it.”
“I know,” I said. “I know. But we’re so close.” I moved to sit on the bed beside her. “Really, really close, Amy. It won’t take much longer.”
“You’ve said that from the start,” she said.
She wasn’t wrong about that.
“But, Amy —”
“Wait. Just … let me finish.” She tugged on a curl and stared at the wall for a second, silent. “I know you like him,” she said again. “But I don’t think I can do this anymore. I can’t keep lying. I’m not good at it the way you are. And I don’t like being rude. And I don’t like him thinking I’ve been sending those texts —”
“I told you. I don’t do that anymore.”
“But it’s already been done,” she said. “And he thinks it was me who sent them.”
“So … what are you saying?” I asked.
“I guess I’m saying that I want out,” she said. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”
“But you said you’d help me.”
“It didn’t feel like I had a choice,” she admitted. “And I didn’t think it would go this far. I’m sorry, Sonny. I just … I can’t.” She wrung her hands in her lap and took another deep breath. “And … and I want you to tell him the truth. That none of it was me.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t seen that last part coming.
“I just … I think he should know,” she said. Every word seemed to cost her something. “And I need him to know. It’ll be better for all of us.”
I nodded, but inside I was a mess of feelings. Anger at Amy, guilt, regret, heartbreak. Because for all the good things Wesley had said on our hike that day, about Ryder maybe surprising me, I knew it didn’t matter now.
If Amy wasn’t going to play along anymore, I didn’t have a choice. I was going to have to come clean, and that meant I had no chance with Ryder. All of our progress had been for nothing.
“I’m sorry,” she said again.
“I understand,” I said.
And I did. As upset as I was that she was bailing, I knew why she wanted out. This scheme had gone on a lot longer than either of us had expected, and I’d known for a while she wasn’t happy about it. I’d just hoped that if I pressed on, things would get better.
They hadn’t.
“So … you’ll tell him?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “I guess I will.”
“Thank you.” She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and rested her head on top of mine. “Thank you for understanding.”
As we changed into our pajamas and climbed into the bed, I tried to look on the bright side. Everything was about to crumble with Ryder, but at least I had Amy back.
That’s what really mattered, right? It was like Wesley said. Amy and I had been together forever. We needed each other. It would be crazy to let a guy — even a great guy like Ryder — come between us.
That didn’t make what she was asking easy, though.
In the other room, Bianca and Wesley cheered as the television counted down. “Three! Two! One!”
“Happy New Year, Sonny,” Amy whispered.
“Happy New Year.”
Chapter 21
I was dreading history class on Wednesday morning, the first day back from break.
Not only would it be my first time seeing Ryder since our almost-kiss in the Rushes’ driveway and my first contact with him since I’d promised Amy I’d tell him the truth, but we were also beginning our unit on World War I, which I — personally — found super boring.
I hadn’t figured out yet when or how I was going to confess my myriad of lies to the boy of my dreams, but I had a feeling that doing it at school, with everyone around, was a bad idea. While part of me was glad to have a little more time, another part just wanted to rip off the damn Band-Aid and get it over with. It was going to be ugly no matter when I did it, and I knew, without a doubt, that it would end any hope I’d had of winning him over in the long run.
Which was why seeing him smile up at me when I walked into class that morning was so incredibly painful.
“Hey, Sonny,” he said, swiveling in his seat to face me as I sat down behind him. He gave me a slightly nervous smile and adjusted his thick-framed glasses. “How was the rest of your break?”
“Good,” I mumbled as I pulled out my textbook. “How was yours?”
“It was fine.”
There was a long, awkward pause. I fidgeted in my seat and fiddled with the pages of my book. Finally, I looked up and caught him watching me. I expected him to ask about Amy, but he didn’t. “You okay?” he asked. “You seem a little … off.”
He was right. Sonny Ardmore wasn’t known for avoiding people’s eyes. Or for mumbling. Today I was definitely “off.”
I shook my head. “I’m good. Just … trying to get back into the swing of things. It’s always hard after a long break…. And you know how much I hate talking about World War One.”
He laughed. “Yes. I think the whole class does. You’ve been pretty vocal about it. You actually asked Mr. Buckley if we could skip the whole unit last semester.”
“And I’m going to ask again,” I assured him. “Persistence is a virtue.”
“I thought patience was a virtue.”
“A virtue I lack.”
Oh, no. I was doing it again. Sinking into the rhythm of our conversation, letting myself get swept up in it. I needed to stop this. I couldn’t let myself fall any harder for him. Not when it was all about to go up in flames. Time to get started on that Band-Aid.
“Hey, listen, Ryder,” I said. “Are you … are you busy this weekend?”
He raised an eyebrow, and I realized with a jolt what my question must have sounded like.
“Just to hang out … as friends,” I added. I almost told him that I needed to talk to him about something, but I knew that would just solicit too many questions. I wanted to tell him on the weekend, sometime when he wouldn’t have to see me the next day. I figured it would be kinder to the both of us.
“Actually,” he said, brightening, “I was going to invite you to a party. I’ve somehow managed to acquire an invitation to Chris Lawson’s on Friday night. I guess my efforts to be less of an asshole have paid off.”
A party wasn’t exactly the scenario I’d had in mind — again, too many of our classmates would be around. But at least the music would be loud enough that, hopefully, no one would hear him screaming at me. Or maybe I could pull him into a bedroom or somewhere outside. Or, even better, I could get him drunk before I told him the truth.
Or maybe I just secretly wanted to go to a party with Ryder Cross at least one time before this all fell apart.
“That sounds great,” I said. But then, knowing what he might say next, I preemptively added, “I don’t think Amy can come, though. She’s got plans this Friday. With her parents.”