New Girl - By Paige Harbison Page 0,51
stomach clenched. Why was she staying with Max? Was it worth it?
Johnny nodded once and walked past her toward the dorms. She called his name, but he didn’t turn. She looked around to see if anyone had seen. No one seemed to have.
That was why she was staying with Max—because Johnny could walk away. And when he did, she would feel like this.
Becca flew down the stairs and into the bathroom. The tears were threatening again; her heart and throat were hot and sore from being in knots. She was on the brink of letting it out when she came upon two girls.
“Becca! That was so sweet! Are you—are you okay?”
It took everything she had to look blasé. “Am I okay? Yes, I’m okay. Just…freshening up before I go to Max’s room.” She smiled and tried to blink the tears away.
She looked in the mirror and wiped any running mascara from under her eyes. She looked pitiful, she thought. The crown looked like it was making fun of her. She left the bathroom and the two girls, whatever their names were, and went up the stairs toward Max.
What was his room number? He’d said something about it the other day because his parents had sent a letter to the wrong room. They sent it to eight. He was in…ugh, for once she wished she’d listened to him. Eighteen? Twenty-eight? It was one of those two. She’d just have to try both.
She found door eighteen. She knocked. No response. She tried the knob, and it was open. She peered in and saw an empty, messy room.
Door twenty-eight. No answer. Locked.
Dammit. Was it…maybe his room was number eight?
She found it and knocked. She shouldn’t be here. She should be trying to fix things with Johnny. She was on the brink of running when Max opened the door.
Becca reminded herself that this was the way to be happy. To have who everyone wanted. And not risk real heartbreak.
She threw her arms around Max. “Oh, thank God you opened the door. I’ve been looking everywhere!”
“Becca, what are you doing?”
“I’m so sorry. I…I just…”
He stepped back, throwing her arms from him. “Stop.”
“I love you. And I mean it.” The words sounded unnatural.
It was the first time she’d said it to anyone. He still looked livid, but she could see in his eyes that he was working to understand what she’d said. She took his hand to squeeze it for emphasis. The emotions from a moment before were threatening to come back.
“I do…and I know you don’t believe me, Max. But I do. I just…don’t know what to do with it. I’ve never been in love before. I just don’t know how to act.” She let go of his hand and stepped backward. She felt herself mean the words she said. But not toward Max. “I’m so sorry. I guess I just hoped you’d say it if I did that.” Her voice was small. She wasn’t this person. Why was she feeling like this? “I feel like everyone knows you don’t like me that much and it’s so embarrassing.” Becca drew her eyebrows together, and let her hands drop to her sides.
Her knees felt week. She succumbed to it and sat down. She stared at the floor and tightened her jaw. This wasn’t where she wanted to be. Not with Max, not on his floor, not in love with someone she feared wouldn’t love her, too.
“Becca, I’m sorry. I can’t…say that back to you.”
She shook her head. “I don’t need you to. I shouldn’t have said it.”
There was silence while she breathed deeply and tried to keep the tears at bay. She was using every muscle in her body to not scream and burst into shuddering, pathetic tears.
“What should we do now?” he asked. “Are we…”
“I want to stay with you,” she said. “I’m really sorry.”
“If we do, you can’t do things like that.”
She nodded and tightened her stomach. “I know.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
IT WAS THE FIRST DAY WE HAD PAINTING SINCE Halloween. It’d be the first time I’d seen Max since he walked me to my dorm. I tried hard not to wonder what it would be like, where our conversations would go now. We’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms, as lame as that sounds, and now…how were we going to act? How was I going to make an idiot out of myself this time instead of being cool and collected?
I shivered as I thought of Becca. She probably wouldn’t feel nervous at all. She’d probably