Still not into you - Charlotte Byrd Page 0,42

nose bleeding. I don’t remember this, but that’s probably when I must’ve passed out.

I sit up and look around. I can barely see out of my left eye. The eyelid feels incredibly heavy and I don’t have enough strength to lift it. All I can make is a little slit.

“You need to put some ice on that,” Juliet says. She goes to the refrigerator and gets me a bag of frozen berries.

“Here. We don’t have any peas, but this should do.”

“Where’s Hudson?” I ask, taking the berries. I press the bag onto my eye. It relieves some of the pain from the swelling but brings about more of a different kind of pain from pressing something so cold onto such a sensitive surface.

“I don’t know,” she says with a shrug.

“He’s outside,” Dylan says.

“What the hell happened, Dylan?” I ask.

“I don’t know, what the hell happened to you? You weren’t supposed to tell him anything! Don’t you remember that little promise?”

“I wasn’t going to, but that stupid hotel sent us a postcard thanking us for getting married there, with some sort of discount for future stays. He saw it,” I say.

I point to the dining room table where the postcard, which has ruined my life, lies innocently.

“Shit,” Dylan says, picking it up. “Why would they do this?”

No one says anything for a few moments.

“It’s probably for the best,” I finally say. “He was going to find out anyway.”

“Not like this,” Dylan says.

Dylan goes to his room and then comes out with a concerned look on his face.

“Do you know where my phone is?” he asks. “I just had it.”

“I saw it earlier,” Juliet says. “It was on the floor when you two were fighting.”

Juliet helps Dylan look for his phone while I continue to sit motionlessly in a daze.

“It’s not here,” Dylan says. His voice is getting frantic. What’s the big deal? I wonder. Who the hell cares about a phone right now?

“It’s not here, Alice,” he says.

“So?”

“So? So? Don’t you know what this means?”

“What?”

“Hudson must’ve taken it,” Dylan says. His face drains of all color. I stare at him.

“Why would he want your phone? He has his own.”

“Because his has Peyton’s number on it,” Juliet says quietly.

Oh, no, I think. I shake my head.

“Hudson wouldn’t do that,” I say slowly.

“Of course he would,” Dylan says. “He’s really pissed at us.”

“Do you know her number?” Juliet asks. “You can use my phone.”

Dylan walks around, trying to remember. No, he shakes his head.

“I used to know her old one, but she recently got a new one with a New Haven number,” he says.

“Wait, I called her a few weekends back. I think I can find it. What’s the area code?”

“203,” Dylan says.

Juliet scrolls through her phone. Eventually she finds it and hands Dylan her phone. He’s about to dial it, but then hesitates.

“I can’t,” he says, shaking his head.

“You have to know,” Juliet says.

“How will I know? Do I just ask her?” he asks.

“You won’t have to,” Juliet says. “If he called her and told her…you’ll know right when she answers.”

Dylan breathes in deeply. I look at Juliet. We both seem to hold our breath.

“Peyton?” Dylan says after she finally picks up. “Hey.”

His face simply grows white. All blood drains from his cheeks and his lips turn almost blue. Dylan’s shoulders slouch and he drops down to the couch as if his legs can’t hold him up anymore. Without saying a word, he looks down at the phone.

“She hung up,” he says, even though no explanations are needed. Juliet and I both know that Peyton knows.

A week passes. My eye manages to heal somewhat, not look so black and blue. I can see out of it again. Unfortunately, my life is a little harder to heal. Hudson doesn’t return any of my calls or texts and he refuses to talk to me. One day we ride the elevator down together. No matter how hard I try, he ignores me. I’m not even a stranger to him anymore. I’m worse. I’m a ghost. He doesn’t even acknowledge my existence.

The worst part? I know that I deserve it. I should’ve just told him the truth right away. I shouldn’t have led him on and acted like everything was fine when he made up with me. I shouldn’t have done a million things, but if I were to do it again, I would. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to be with him. If only one last time. Looking back now, I wonder if