Curvy Girls Can't Date Bad Boys - Kelsie Stelting Page 0,66
eyes softened, and she set the pen down. “I have a few aptitude tests if you want to try one.”
“Do you think it will help?”
She shrugged. “It’s not a bad place to start if you have a little time.”
“I have until the end of Jordan’s FMP meeting, so I might as well.”
She got out one of the school’s laptops and pulled up an online test. While I waited, I looked around her office, taking in the diplomas on the wall from Ivy League colleges and her cross-stitched decorations. This woman really was a bundle of contradictions.
When the page loaded, I was faced with a series of true or false questions. Asking whether or not I liked working outside, whether I preferred to work alone or in a group—on and on until I reached the very end. The second I hit submit, my answer appeared on the screen.
Leadership.
They said that I would be great working with others, leading teams, and utilizing my problem-solving capabilities with others. I frowned at the screen.
“What did it say?” Mrs. Bardot asked.
I spun the screen to face her, and her eyes moved left and right as she read. “This is great,” she said. “There's so much potential here.”
That was the problem. When you have limitless options, choosing one of them means saying no to everything else. And what if I chose unwisely? I didn’t have a great track record of decision-making skills.
She shut the laptop screen slowly and clasped her hands. “Zara, I'm not speaking as your guidance counselor. I'm speaking as an adult who's made her own fair share of hard decisions. Any choice you make is the right one for you because you'll make it work no matter what.”
My chest constricted at the idea. Was Mrs. Bardot right? I felt like I had already made so many mistakes. But what if they weren't really mistakes? What if they were just the right decisions for me at the time? I hadn't wanted to tell Ronan about my relationship with Ryde because I still hadn’t known what it meant or how to get out of it.
There were better ways to handle things, sure, but now they were lessons, not errors. I could only fix the things I could and learn from the rest, and I planned to do just that.
Forty-One
I used Jordan’s phone to send Ronan a message on the way home.
It’s Zara. Can we talk?
He didn't respond. Not after five minutes, not after ten, not after Jordan and I walked inside, finished our homework.
“What’s up?” Jordan asked, putting her books back in her backpack. “I mean, aside from everything else… You’ve been quiet.”
I shook my head. “I want to make things right with Ronan, but how can I do that if I can’t even get him on the phone?
She pressed her lips together and look down thoughtfully. “Can’t you just go see him?”
“I don't think it would be a good idea to show up at his apartment unannounced.” I sat back in the chair and ran my hands over my hair. “He's not the kind of guy you sneak up on, you know?”
She nodded, fiddling with the zipper of her bag. “Do you think he just needs more time?”
My eyes stung, and I tried to wipe the tears away. I would give Ronan anything he wanted—time, space, anything—if it meant he would give me another chance.
Jordan rubbed my back. “It's okay.”
But it wasn’t. “I feel terrible. He thinks I cheated on him, and the cops are looking for him, and his stepdad is talking about him at a press conference tomorrow, and I feel like it’s all my fault.” I sucked in a deep breath to catch up after all I’d just said.
Jordan lifted my chin and made me look at her. “You didn't know it was all going to go like this. You were being forced into a relationship you didn’t choose. The Alexanders and your father should be cleaning up this mess, but you have such a good heart that you’re trying to fix it. They're the ones who should be dealing with this. The fact that you’re trying so hard just proves how much you care about Ronan.”
“But they're not doing anything,” I said, “and you know Roy’s just going to get up there and talk about what a disappointing vagrant his stepson is, how he's not in college, how he has tattoos, basically say he's worthless. And there's not going to be anyone there to tell the press otherwise. Ronan’s name