My Life After Now - By Jessica Verdi Page 0,67

today…”

Evan looked away. “It’s none of my business.”

“No, it’s okay. I know you’re freaked out about it. But you should know that I didn’t put Ty at risk. I was really careful and we used a cond—”

“Lucy, please. I don’t need the details,” he cut me off.

“Sorry. I just want you to understand that you don’t have to worry about Ty.”

“Lucy, I couldn’t care less about Ty.”

I blinked. “But you were so upset…”

He looked me directly in the eye. “I was upset because you were with someone else, not because of Ty’s health.”

Wait. What?

I stared at him, my heartbeat picking up speed.

“Is that…why you were shouting in Ty’s face during rehearsal?” I said slowly, piecing it all together.

“You caught that?” He looked sheepish.

“I think everyone caught that.”

“Oh. Well, yeah, I hate that guy.”

“But you don’t like me anymore!” I cried. “You won’t even look at me half the time!”

“Lucy, I’m in love with you,” Evan said, embarrassed. “I’m always looking at you. I’m just good at hiding it, I guess.”

I gaped at him.

He looked down. “I’m so sorry about the way I treated you. I was just…scared.” The way he said it, it was like he couldn’t believe he was even admitting it.

“But you’re…not scared anymore?” I nudged.

He sighed. “I still am. But I’ve done a lot of reading, and I think I understand it all a little better now.” He took my hand.

As I considered our entwined fingers, Evan’s thumb stroking the back of my hand, I thought back to the last time I’d tried to touch him, the last time we were in a parked car together. It was only five weeks ago, but it seemed so much longer. So much had happened since then; things were different now. And, judging from the way Evan’s warm skin felt against mine, those things weren’t all bad.

“But I was a total jerk to you, and I get it if you don’t feel the same way about me. Or if you’re still into Ty or whatever.”

“I’m definitely not still into Ty.”

Evan’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Really.” But then a searing shot of pain coursed through my injured arm, reminding me that things still weren’t exactly simple. I exhaled. “But I don’t know, Evan…”

His thumb stopped moving. “You don’t know what?”

“I don’t know if you and I could ever really work. It’s complicated.”

“Because of the HIV?”

“Well, yeah. That’s the big thing, obviously. I’m in for a lifetime of health problems and medication side effects and doctors’ appointments and group meetings. It’s a lot to deal with. But also because you really hurt me, and honestly, I’m still working through that. And I know you said you’ve done a lot of research and all that, but I can’t help but worry that you’ll always be a little skittish around me.”

Evan slowly released my hand, nodding. “Okay. I understand.” He started the car and began driving in the direction of my house.

I was a mess inside. I wanted to be with him. I wanted to kiss him and have him hold me and be loved by someone as good as him. But what I said was the truth, and I had to take care of me now.

“But thank you,” I said after a while. “For everything you did today. I mean it—I’ll never forget it.”

He kept his eyes on the road and didn’t respond.

Before long we were pulling up my driveway.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said, getting out of the car. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Lucy, wait,” he called out, just as I was about to close the door. I swung it open again and bent down to look at him. “Just…think about it, okay?”

I gave a tiny smile. “Okay.”

34

Don’t Cry for Me, Argentina

Dad and Papa were waiting for me when I went inside the house, identical masks of concern superglued on their faces.

“What happened?” Dad asked.

It took me a second to realize he was talking about the accident at school and not about what had just passed between me and Evan. “You already know what happened—I got sliced up with a sword.”

“Come on, Lucy, you know what I mean. Was anyone exposed?”

The image of Evan’s hands saturated red flashed before my eyes, and I winced. It’s okay, I reminded myself. He didn’t have any open cuts. He’ll be fine.

“No,” I lied, and immediately felt a spasm of guilt. I hated lying to my dads. But they couldn’t know how badly I’d screwed up. Trying to shift the direction of the conversation, I added, “But I