Chapter 9
Jaime’s bloodied fingers were still hanging in midair.
But my gaze went right past him, and for a moment, I saw him at 16, grinning at me as he lay in a bed of broken glass, bleeding because he’d tried to save me.
That year, his school uniform sleeves were so soaked with blood you could wring them out, yet with his battered arms, he wiped away my tears. “Gia, why are you crying harder than me, and I’m the one who’s hurt?”
Later, I scoured every pharmacy in town to collect all the cartoon
bandages. He’d complain, “So childish,” but secretly tucked every used Hello Kitty bandage into his diary.
“Gracie…” Now, Jaime’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he spoke, blood still streaming from his wound. “It hurts so much…”
“If it hurts so much, go to the hospital,” I cut him off.
Jaime’s hand slowly dropped, beads of blood blooming like dark red flowers on the floor.
Outside, the setting sun slanted through the window, stretching his shadow long across the ground.
Kamden suddenly draped his jacket over my shoulders, the cuff brushing by and leaving a trace of cedar in the air.
Jaime stared at that jacket for a long time.
Chapter 9
So long that when Celia tugged at his sleeve, he instinctively murmured, “Gracie, don’t make a scene…”
The moment the words left his mouth, the four of us froze.
“Let’s go.” Kamden turned me away, his palm warm through the fabric.
As we rounded the corner, I glanced back one last time and saw Jaime bending down to pick up the blood–stained mug from the floor, his profile blurred in the golden light like a faded old photograph.
The next day, Celia cornered me in the break room.
“Gracie,” she blocked my way, her face tense and agitated, “you must be so pleased with yourself, aren’t you? Jaime had a high fever last night–he kept calling your name in his sleep! Bet you’re thrilled.”
I calmly wiped the milk splatter from the back of my hand. “I’m not like you. I’m not interested in someone else’s boyfriend.”
Her pupils contracted sharply.
The same girl who once played the “attention seeker” and swept through the company with her act now looked like a broken marionette, her mouth twitching uncontrollably. “You better mean that…”
“No need to fish for answers,” I cut her off. “I’ll tell you the truth–Jaime and I will never get back together. I don’t go back to old flames. You can relax.”
Her body went rigid.
I smiled.
As I walked away, I heard Celia’s final, desperate question, “Just because he threw a cup of coffee at you, you’re willing to throw away all those
Chapter 9
years together?”
“Yeah, I am.
