Senior Year, '94. Megan B. March

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the wondering, the small talk and the continuous bread eating, Jensen finally let me in on why he was there. I watched as he swallowed and then looked at me with a look that seemed torn somehow. Wanting to yell at him to just fucking spit it out, I kept my cool as he reached his hand across the table like he was going to take mine but suddenly stopped.

      “I’m not a hundred percent match,” he revealed in a menacingly quiet voice, blinking his eyes and furrowing his brow. His fingers rubbed against the white tablecloth.

      “What does that mean, not a hundred percent match?”

      “It means my fucking brother slept with my girlfriend!” Jensen growled in a whisper to keep the other patrons from hearing the shocking news.

      For a moment, I forgot to breathe and I dared not move. What Jensen blurted out was more than I could have ever imagined, and when he finally opened his eyes they were so full of anger that I didn’t know quite what to say.

      “Emery?” I asked, as if there would be anyone else. Him doing something like that was unthinkable.

      “I called Emery as soon as I found out and he admitted to it. He said that he was driving back from lunch and ran into Savannah outside of school about a week before she left. She was apparently really upset; crying and shit. Anyway, he said he picked her up with the intention of just talking, but apparently one thing led to another.” Jensen’s jaw flexed in quick succession and he balled his fist up on top of the table.

      Questions swirled around in my head, but I didn’t dare ask them out loud. The only question I dared to ask was, “Does Madison know?”

      “I don’t know and I don’t fucking care. Mom and Dad were too shocked and disappointed to say much, but I know that they’re fucking pissed at both of us—being irresponsible and all. They didn’t say much when Emery finally got around to telling them, only that Mom would call their lawyer and get his advice on what to do.”

      Jensen shut his eyes and didn’t open them for quite some time. By the look on his face I knew just how hurt he really was, and confessing my actions with Nate right then would be more than cruel. I knew how much he looked up to Emery, and I also knew how much Savannah had meant to him at one time. The two of them betraying him was just too much. And then there was Alyna. And then me. Fuck!

      Jensen spoke up again. “You thought I needed time to think about what I want, but in truth it’s always been you. There was never any doubt and I didn’t need time to tell me that.”

      “Why didn’t you say anything when I was being stupid and trying to leave?” I whispered, reaching over to cover the remaining distance between us with my hand. I covered his lightly balled fist.

      “I thought space was really what you wanted, although if I had it to do over again I wouldn’t have given in so easy.” Jensen’s face darkened and I wondered if he was thinking of me calling off our engagement and then leaving. Our food came before either one of us could comment.

      With the revelation of Emery being the father of Savannah’s kid and not Jensen, the remainder of dinner stayed relatively quiet between the two of us and I wasn’t sure why. I was relieved with the news, of course, but Jensen was obviously angry and saddened and empathically, that bothered me. The entire time I sat there picking at my dinner, I couldn’t help but wonder if Jensen was upset because of the fact that he wasn’t Solveigh’s father like he’d been led to believe. Oh, don’t be stupid, Mia. He’s pissed at Emery for screwing him over, even though that happened long ago. I looked at Jensen for some clue as to what he might be thinking and immediately averted my eyes when his met mine. Our waiter, who must have been watching nearby, stepped over to our table and asked if he could clear away our half-empty dishes. Almost too quickly we both said yes and readily accepted the dessert menus he set on the table.

      Normally we wouldn’t have considered having dessert at this point, but we were both desperate for anything that would divert our attention away from the uncomfortable person sitting in front of us.

      After ordering a chocolate mousse to share and receiving another “very good choice” from our waiter, Jensen sat back and placed his hands in front of him on the table. “Mia,” he said, “on top of everything else I want to tell you how sorry I am about what happened between me and Fallon and the tension it’s put between us.”

      Fallon? Really? Fallon was the least of my concerns. There was definitely tension between us, but not because of Fallon or their ‘make out’ session together. No, not this time. He could think that all he wanted, but the fact-of-the-matter was we’d gotten pregnant and I lost the baby. And then there was the minor detail of me fucking around with Nate, a guy Jensen had never thought much of. No, Fallon had nothing to do with the tension that surrounded us.

      “I get it if you can’t forgive me or you want some time apart,” Jensen said, still thinking of Fallon. “I’ll fucking hate it, but if that’s what you want I’ll give it to you.”

      All I could do was stare at him and blink. The chocolate mousse was then eaten with as much enthusiasm as dinner had been, with half of it still on the plate by the time our waiter came to the table with the check. Before he could ask if everything was alright with dinner, Jensen explained the mousse had been rich, but delicious.

      Leaving the restaurant, Jensen walked me to my truck with his hand lightly around my waist, helping me inside like a guy might on a first or second date. He was polite and gentlemanly, almost to the point of being overly so, and I felt it necessary to tell him that I loved him and that I just needed some time.

      “Mia, don’t give up on me. Please.” He reached out and gently took hold of my chin, turning my head his way so that I was seeing him and the pain that he was feeling. Sighing heavily, he said something along the lines of him hoping that we weren’t breaking up.

      Why does he always need me to define what we are at any given moment, especially the bad ones? And why does he always assume the worst? I lifted and tilted my face for a kiss to assure him that I wasn’t ending our relationship. Automatically Jensen moved in and pressed his lips softly to mine and held them there for a few seconds without trying to escalate it by coming closer or kissing me deeply. He was careful to maintain the distance he knew I needed. Driving away, I looked into the rearview mirror and saw Jensen standing there with his hands in the pockets of his khakis and his head bowed toward the ground.

      The sight made my heart hurt.

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      The following morning, Jensen came over dressed in black shorts and a red Stanford t-shirt, the goatee suddenly absent and replaced with smooth skin. He picked me up to take me somewhere we hadn’t been for quite some time—The Club. Maybe he saw it as a way of us starting over as a couple, being that The Club was significant at the beginning of our relationship. It didn’t matter what his reasoning was, at least this time I didn’t have to endure Bree’s flirtatious behavior toward Jensen when being assigned a racquetball court because there was a guy working the front desk. She always flirted with him while giving me looks of death.

      Even though neither one of us had played for some time, getting back into decently playing racquetball came quite easily, and I barely outscored Jensen to win the first game. I wondered if he was still being polite and let me win, but before I could think about it too much he thought it was a good time to start a conversation.

      “What happened with Fallon was a mistake,” Jensen began.

      Here we go again! I tried to keep from getting angry. The day had started out so

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