Her palm is still on Grey’s chest. Grey realizes it the same moment I do and hastily moves away.
Stacey laughs, her eyes shining as they loop from my face to Grey’s, reading the situation. “And is this what it looks like?”
“Yeah. It is,” Grey says, and pointedly steps around Stacey and grabs for my hand, tugging me away toward the parking lot.
But Stacey’s not done.
“What is it with you and my sloppy seconds?” she calls after me. “First Jake and now Grey?”
I stop dead in my tracks, pulling Grey to a halt.
“Oh, you didn’t know?” she says. “Grey and I dated for the last two years. Who do you think held my hand on the ride to the hospital after you punched me?” I wince, and this hurts more than what Stacey did to my eye at that last softball game.
Grey tugs at my hand. “Dated. Past tense. Come on, Liv, I’ll explain.”
But my heels are planted on the concrete.
“Oh, yeah, explain,” Stacey says. “Don’t forget the part where I dumped you and you were so upset you wrapped your car around a tree.”
I shut my eyes.
The wreck.
I just totaled my car, busted my collarbone, and my hard-ass mom took away all my driving privileges and refused to buy me another car.
“I wasn’t upset,” Grey snaps.
She cuts him off with a single laugh. “You were three beers in—which is worse. Too drunk to drive, too emotional to Uber.”
When I open my eyes, Grey’s face is pale and his hand has gone clammy around mine.
He didn’t just want to hide his concussion from recruiters. He needed to hide the fact that he drove drunk, too—no college wants to touch a quarterback stupid enough to do that with a ten-foot pole.
The concussion. The drunk driving. Two years with Stacey.
What else is he hiding?
And then—I see it. As clear as the perfect pitch coming my way, begging to be smashed.
Recruiting me, befriending me, even the starry eyes and kisses no one saw.
I’m not just his girlfriend—I’m a means to an end.
Because what better way to push back against a broken heart than to date the girl who shattered Stacey’s nose?
And the lies. The lies by omission over the course of our relationship are suddenly so dense, piling together and splitting apart until I’m blinded by the spread of them.
Again, Grey tries to tug me away, to the privacy of Helena the Honda and then to celebratory pancakes with friends. But I’m frozen in place.
I slip my hand free of Grey’s.
Now Stacey’s the one moving, sweeping past us. She turns midstride, teeth flashing. They’re whiter than they were all those months ago, too. It’s like she got a makeover simply for this moment. “Rodinsky, I almost feel sorry for you. Not only is your whole relationship a revenge plot, but it’s a shitty one. Because guess what? I don’t actually care what Grey does with his time. Or who he does.”
And that’s when I walk away. Because I don’t need to hear a single thing Grey has to say.
30
“LIV! HEY! LIV!” GREY IS ON MY TAIL AS I BURST OUT OF the shadow of the main building and into the parking lot.
Oh, hell no.
I pick up the pace until I’m literally sprinting toward where Helena’s parked next to an island.
A crush of disappointment, shame, and anger constricts my lungs until I can’t breathe. It’s like I’m piled under a bunch of bodies yet again, nose to the turf. Still, I weave through the cars. Why the hell are there so many people still here?
“Liv! O-Rod, please.”
The tears squeak through my eyes now. Goddammit, why can’t they wait until I’m in the car?
I will not sob. I will not break down. I can’t—
“Olive.” There’s a hand on my shoulder.
Fresh tears immediately fall as I wrench myself away. I don’t want him touching me again. Not now. Not ever. I wheel on him, backing toward my car.
“Don’t.”
Grey’s hands are raised in front of his body. I want to slap him. I want to leave angry red fingerprints on his cheek.
“Liv. Listen—”
“Don’t you dare.”
“If you’d let me explain—”
“Explain what?” Car doors are swinging open, people coming to see what the commotion is all about, and I suddenly don’t care. Let them see and hear the whole damn thing. “That you didn’t mean to use me as revenge? Against Stacey?” My eyes tighten. “To make yourself feel better about your colossal mistake?”
Grey draws himself up to his full height, hands down, features granite. Bastard. “Don’t act like you weren’t out for revenge, too.” He leans in, suddenly mindful of our growing audience. Out of the corner of my eye, I recognize Jake taking a step toward us, only to be pulled back by Kelly. “You can say it was all about getting on the softball team. But I know you. I know that deep down in your heart, being on this team was just as much about steamrolling Jake as it was about impressing my mother.”
He’s right. I saw my opportunity for revenge before Grey and Shanks had even finished their pitch.
“Maybe that’s true,” I shoot back at him, not bothering to lower my own voice. There’s definitely a crowd now. The bodies are a blur—teammates, classmates, teachers, parents. Hell if I know. A big fat tear rolls into my mouth as I draw in a breath. “But you lied to me. I believed you when you said you wanted to be my friend. I believed you when you said you liked me. I believed you when you kissed me. I’m your girlfriend and you still used me. I may have had my own motives for joining the team, but I never lied to you.”
I place both hands squarely on his chest and shove him away.
But Grey’s not done.
“I overheard you in Mom’s office and I felt sorry for you—I know how much of a hard-ass she can be. And then I saw you play with your brother and I had to tell Shanks. So what if you punched my ex-girlfriend? Who cares what she would think?”
“Then why didn’t you tell me about Stacey? She ruined my life. You knew that. A lie by omission is still a lie.” Staring him down, I dare him to glance away. Dare him.
And suddenly, there’s real anger in his face, not just frustration. “She didn’t ruin it. You punched her. You broke her nose. You got yourself kicked out of that fancy-ass private school. You did that. Nobody else.”
The words sound like something he’s told himself over and over since his stupid car crash. Maybe something his mom drilled into his head.
But, even still, the words hit their mark and anger rips through my veins, shoving past the sadness. The embarrassment. The shame.
I finally get my fingers wrapped around my keys. I yank them out of my bag and stare him down. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
I turn and stuff my keys into the lock, but Grey dares to touch me again. “I did this for you. Ninety-nine percent of my motivation was to help you and the team. I swear.”
I want to believe it. But I just can’t.
“Bullshit, Worthington.” Jake’s wiggled out of Kelly’s arms and moved next to Grey, his left eye swollen shut. Behind him, I see half the team there—not just Kelly, but Topps, the whole offensive line, Sanchez, Brady, Tate, Smith. I don’t see my family, though, or Addie and Nick, and it’s a major relief. “You were using her and we all knew it.”