“So,” Harper began again, casually, “who do you think spray-painted the billboard? My money’s on the sophomores-it was so lame. Reeks of some pathetic attempt to establish a rep. As if-”
“Don’t do that,” he said abruptly.
“What?”
“Don’t act like everything’s normal.”
“It can be,” she pointed out. Pleaded.
“No.”
She’d tried being patient and giving him his space, but that just wasn’t her. She couldn’t just wait-she needed to act. She refused to let Beth win, and she was physically incapable of just letting him go. If it meant sacrificing her precious dignity and making him understand how much she needed him, then that’s just what she would do. And so she’d formulated her plan, and now she just needed to push through his anger and pride, and uncover that piece of him that still loved her.
“Adam, you want Beth to forgive you, right?”
“Don’t talk about her.”
“I know you do. Everyone sees you running around school after her and-”
“I said, don’t talk about her.”
“Okay, fine. I just… I just don’t get it. How can you expect… some people to forgive you, but you won’t forgive me?”
“It’s not the same,” he snapped.
“But, why? Okay, I lied-so did you. I screwed up-so did you. And I still love-”
“It’s. Not. The. Same,” he repeated.
“You’re right, because what you and I had together, it’s nothing like you and Beth. It’s so much more-”
“You really want to know?” he asked, loudly enough that the woman across the aisle looked up from her book in alarm. He whirled around to look at Harper, who resisted the urge to sink back into her own seat and turn her face away from his expression and what it meant.
“Of course I do.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I really do.” Though she wasn’t sure it was true. “Tell me. Why can’t we just get past this?”
“Because it’s not what you did!” he yelled, as if he’d been holding the words in for weeks and they had finally battled their way out. They were all looking at her now: the old woman across the aisle, the mother with two squirming kids who kept shooting her a sympathetic smile, the preteen girls two rows ahead who couldn’t even be bothered to disguise their eager eavesdropping. Harper knew exactly how pathetic she must look, but she forced herself not to care what a train full of tourists thought of her. Today only one person’s opinion mattered.
It’s not what you did. Then… what?
“It’s who you are, Harper,” he said, more quietly. This was how a doctor’s face must look when he’s telling someone the patient died, Harper realized. Adam was pronouncing their relationship. Time of death, 6:09.
“I don’t get it,” she said, but that was just another lie. After all, hadn’t she already been treated to this little speech? Hadn’t she already been informed of what a horrible, irredeemable piece of trash Harper Grace had become?
“Look, with Kane, what he did? It was shitty, but… no big surprise. I knew better than to trust him. But you?” Adam sighed. “I always trusted you. Out of everyone, you were the only one…”
“That’s what I’m saying, Ad,” Harper begged. “It’s different between the two of us. You can’t let one screwup ruin everything.”
“It’s not just about that,” Adam said. “It doesn’t matter if I forgive you. I can’t be with someone like you. Or be around someone like you. Not someone who’d do what you did.”
“Someone like me?” Harper cried. “Someone who’s been your best friend since you were eight years old?”
He shook his head.
“You’re not that person. I thought you were, but… something’s different.You’re…”
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
“What? Just say it.”
“Wrong. Okay? Something in you, it’s like… it’s gone bad. Rotted.”
Harper just looked at him, her eyes watering, her hair falling down over her face. Surely he would look at her and see that she was still the same person, that however much of a bitch she could be, it didn’t define her. She’d done the wrong thing, she conceded that-but it didn’t mean there was nothing right left in her. It wasn’t fair for him to think that. It wasn’t right for him to say it.
And when he saw how he’d hurt her…
But he did look at her, and his face didn’t soften; in fact, his mouth tightened into a hard, firm line. And then he turned away and settled back into his seat.
“I told you that you wouldn’t want to hear it,” he said, and his voice was casual, almost sneering, as if he couldn’t hear her collapsed onto the seat behind him, choking back her sobs. But of course he heard; he just didn’t care.
“Want some?”
Beth shuddered. She’d come out here hoping to be alone. No one used the playground this time of night, and she figured there’d be no one to see her huddled under a tree, her knees tucked up to her chest and her eyes filled with tears. Fleeing from Powell, she’d needed to go somewhere safe, and for Beth, the playground felt like home. All the more reason to be displeased when some stoner in a weathered leather jacket and torn black jeans slumped down beside her, waving a joint in her face. (At least, Beth assumed that’s what it was-she’d never seen one in real life, not this close.)
She shook her head and laid it back down on her knees, hoping that if she closed her eyes and ignored him, maybe he would slink away.
“I just figured, you know, your eyes are going to be all red, anyway,” the guy explained. “So, might as well take advantage of it.”
She didn’t say anything.
“Pot joke,” he said. “Not funny, I guess.” He paused, and she could hear him inhale deeply. “Look, you sure you don’t want any? You look like you could use…”
Beth looked up then, and faced him with a fierce expression, silently daring him to finish the sentence. That’s all she needed to hear right now, some burnout telling her that she was an uptight “Miss Priss” who could use a little fun in her life. She didn’t know whether he was trying to insult her or pick her up, but either way, she wasn’t in the mood.
“A break,” he concluded, blowing out a puff of smoke. “Bad day, huh? Me too.”
“I’m sorry, I really don’t want to be rude, but I don’t even know you, and-”
“Reed,” he said, raising the joint as if to toast her. “Rhymes with weed.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Another joke,” he added. “Still not funny?”
It suddenly occurred to Beth that she was alone on a deserted playground with this guy-anything could happen. But whether it was his amiable expression or her exhaustion, she didn’t feel threatened, just worn out. “Like I was saying, I came here to be alone, and I’m sure you’re a nice guy and all, but-”
“I’m not trying to pick you up,” he said suddenly.
“What?”
“Too much trouble.” He leaned back against the tree, staring up at the sky. “Girls. Women. Whatever you call yourselves. I’m out.”
“Uh, congratulations?”
“Damn right.” Reed closed his eyes and took another hit.
“So what do you want, then?”
“World peace? A Fender Stratocaster?” he grinned. “How ‘bout a warm breeze and a good buzz?”
“What do you want from me?” Beth clarified, not sure whether to be annoyed or amused. “If you’re not trying to pick me up, what are you doing?”
“You were crying,” he said, as if that explained everything.
“And?”
“And I wanted to make you stop. Which you did.”
“Oh.” Beth blushed, feeling a little silly for having assumed some dark ulterior motive.