By the time I got to school on Monday, it was clear that the events from the party were the talk of the town.
I kept my head down when I could, ignoring the too-interested glances that came my way as I walked through the halls. I'd ended up telling Alyssa, Reed, and Olivia about what happened over the weekend because I knew it was inevitable for word to spread, and I wanted them to have at least heard it from me first. They were all upset and shocked and angry—maybe even more so than I'd been, if that were possible. But I was glad to have them. It made bearing with the aftermath just a bit easier to know that my friends were there for me.
I didn't see Evan in any of my classes. I wasn't sure he was even at school.
I walked into my last class of the day late on purpose—so I could minimize the time I had to speak or look at Dez. I was relieved when I walked in and realized the lights were dimmed because Mr. Matthews had chosen to spare us from our labs for the day, instead throwing on a movie for the entirety of the class.
After half-heartedly scolding me for being late, Mr. Matthews just ordered me to take my seat. I walked with my head held high as I took those few steps to my table, felt Dez shift beside me as I sat down, turning to cast his gaze along the side of my face.
I didn't acknowledge that stare. Not for fear that I'd say something I'd later regret, but because if I looked at him now, the small thread that had been keeping me stitched together all day might have snapped altogether. And I knew whatever it released was sure to be ugly.
So I ignored him and kept my eyes trained on the screen ahead. Even when he eventually tapped my shoulder. Even when he eventually whispered my name.
When it became clear that he would be getting no response for me, Dez backed off.
Until—he passed me a note.
Do you hate me?
Because he knew that no matter how many times we'd bickered, I'd never actually hated him—not really. No matter how many times I told myself I did, hate was too strong a word for what I'd felt for Dez. Annoyance, yes. Dislike, maybe. Hate? Maybe not before.
But now . . .
I tucked the sheet away and ignored him.
He passed me another one not two seconds later.
Can we talk after class?
Again, I folded that sheet and put it aside.
Again, Dez came up with another sheet of his own.
You're wasting precious paper, you know.
I still didn't respond and simply tucked the sheet away as I avoided his gaze, and for a moment, I thought he'd actually given up.
It was only after ten minutes passed that another paper slid out in front of me.
I told you not to come.
I tightened my grip around my pencil, nearly snapping it in half.
Dez had told me not to come—and that was supposed to make it okay?
Are you looking for a thank you?
My writing nearly tore through the page. Dez took the note and read it before looking over at me, and for once I let myself look back at him. Let him look into my eyes and see what he'd done to me when he sat there for three days and didn't tell me a thing. I returned his stare, daring him to look away first—and he did, but only to write:
I'm sorry.
I didn't write him back.
Two minutes later, another note appeared.
I should have handled it differently. I made a mistake, and I'm sorry... but there's so much that you still don't know about that night. What went on with my team. Everything. Please, just let me explain.
I shook my head and reached to fold away the paper, but Dez took it before I could and flipped it over to the back.
Lewis didn't know.
And that was all it took.
For me to think of Hannah and to see the devastation on her face as she looked at Lewis that night. To see the same hurt and helplessness on his face as he watched us leave.
If Lewis hadn't known . . .
Another note from Dez.
Let's talk after class? Please.
I didn't know what to say.
He added: Please x2
And when I still didn't respond, he added another two zeros.
x200
Another.
x2000
By the time he'd filled half the page with his seemingly infinite 0's, I snatched the sheet from him. He was going to keep writing to me regardless of how much paper I wasted or how many times I tried to ignore him. So, I wrote back. Not exactly a yes but . . .
You'll just chase me down the hall if I say no anyway.
His shoulders seemed to sag in relief as he read it.
His reply came quickly.
Now you're getting the hang of it ;)
But I was still pissed at him, so I had no control over my hands as I tore a new piece of paper from my notebook and wrote back—
I'm only doing this for Hannah and Lewis. You're still an asshole.
I knew that he saw what I'd written before I'd even handed it back to him because when he looked at me, there was nothing but burning regret in his eyes.
When I turned to face the screen again, however, I realized I was facing my teacher instead.
Mr. Matthews was standing in front of our table.
Shit.
"Something you want to share there, Lyra?"
My cheeks flamed as his eyes flew to the folded note.
Oh my god—
Mr. Matthews shook his head in disapproval as he reached for it.
But Dez was faster. He took my paper before the teacher could get his hands on it, tore it up, crumbled those pieces together—and swung his arm like the star pitcher that he was.
The note landed perfectly into the trash bin across the room. Mr. Matthews didn't dare stick his hands in there.
***
Dez hadn't uttered a word as the bell rang, as we left the classroom, or as he followed me down the hall to my locker. He only stood in silence as I put away my books, his gaze darting from me to his shoes and back again. From the corner of my eye I saw him, on more than one occasion, open his mouth to speak. But he always seemed to decide against it as the silence stretched until I finished putting away my things and shut my locker.
Since Mr. Matthews caught us passing notes in class, he didn't attempt to write another one. Instead he'd sat in earnest, fidgeting in his seat while his fingers drummed restlessly against the table—as they now did against the locker beside mine. A definite contrast to his usual playful and cocky demeanor, there was an air of uncertainty around Dez now that seemed foreign, almost wrong. If I didn't know any better, I might've thought that Desmond Warren—the same person who had Evan's murder written in his eyes this past Friday night—was nervous.
Good.
I waited until there were less people standing by us until I turned to him and said, "I get it."
Dez's gaze slowly lifted to mine, and indeed, that was a spark of uncertainty edged beneath it. His brows furrowed. "You do?"
I nodded, admitting what I'd realized the moment he'd thrown away the note that insulted him and spared me from the embarrassment of Mr. Matthews reading it aloud—saving me. Again.
"I was rude to you," I said to him, "I've done nothing but judge you since we've met, and to top it off, I spilled vinegar all over you the other day. To you, I was just another stuck-up snob." I echoed the words he'd spoken to me in the woods outside of Lupe's Cocina and in class. "So yes, I get why you didn't tell me. You don't owe me anything. Those were your boys. Your close friends. Why should you betray them for someone who's been nothing but awful to you?"
"No, that's not why—" Dez ran a hand through his hair and exhaled. "I don't think you're stuck-up or a snob. I was upset when I said those things. I didn't mean it. You have to know that I didn't."
"It's whatever now."
"No. It is not whatever." He scowled. "It's important, Peacock."
I lifted a shoulder in a lazy shrug. "What do you want me to say?"
"I want you to say that you don't—" Dez closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. He looked at me before exhaling and leaning against the locker once again, staring blankly at the wall in front of us.
"You didn't answer my question earlier." He kept his gaze averted. I waited, and then his eyes flashed to mine. "Do you hate me?"
I didn't have to think twice about my response.
"No Dez, I don't hate you," I answered honestly. His shoulders relaxed an inch until I added, "I can't hate you when I don't care about you."
I said it gently enough as to not sound like an insult, but as a simple fact.
It didn't seem to be the answer Dez wanted, but he nodded.
"So, Lewis—that's why we're here aren't we?" I prompted. "How is it that he didn't know, but you did?"
Dez didn't seem to hear any of that as all he whispered with a shake of his head was, "I should have known. I should have told you why I didn't want you there. I wanted to tell you."
I ignored the sick feeling in my stomach.
He pushed himself off the locker and faced me fully. "I almost told you, Lyra. When I saw you walk in the night of the party, I almost told you."
The admission stunned me enough to shut me up.
But all I could think about was the way all those boys had tried to dance with me or touch me one way or another. How Evan's filthy hands felt around my waist, pulling me back against him, his foul breath at my neck, my ear . . . and Dez wanted to tell me.
But he didn't.
"I should have," he said, almost as if he were responding directly to my thoughts.
"Why didn't you," I breathed. It was all I could manage to say as I again saw all those eyes on us that night, the shocked stares that reminded me too much of another night, of another life.
"Come on, kids. School's over. Make your way towards where you need to be and clear the halls." One of the security guards approached from the end of the hall. I hadn't realized it, but Dez and I were the only ones left. The rest of the hallway was completely empty.
We started moving toward the exit and to the parking lot, but my heart was still pounding beneath my chest.
"Are you busy tonight?" Dez said as we walked, "I have practice until five, but I can meet you around six if you want. We can grab dinner and talk. Any questions you have, anything you want to know, I'll tell you everything. I swear it."
That brought me back out of my thoughts enough to look at him.
Dinner with Dez . . . I chewed on my lower lip. It certainly didn't feel like the best idea; every time we saw each other, we always seemed to bump heads—and that was around other people. The ten seconds we spent alone in the woods proved catastrophic enough. But alone for an entire meal? I didn't want to think about how much damage we would do.
"You were supposed to be telling me about Lewis just now and look how that went," I said.
It was a stupid excuse, and we both knew it. But Dez said, "I'll make you a deal."
I half turned to him.
"If," he said, "after I tell you everything, you decide you never want to talk to me again, then I will accept that. I will not attempt to speak to you ever again, I will not bother you, I will not even be in the same space as you. It will be as if we don't even go to the same school—it's a big school anyway. It's not hard to avoid certain people if you really try."
I was going to ask him how he was going to manage that when he was my lab partner, when he said, "Give me a chance to explain everything tonight, and I'll go to the scheduling office first thing tomorrow morning and go back to my old schedule. That is my deal."
We paused at the threshold between the front of the school and the side-hall that would lead Dez to the baseball fields for practice. I stared at him half in shock—and half in doubt.
"You'll really go back to your old schedule?" I didn't bother to try and hide the hopefulness in my tone.
Dez gritted his teeth but said, "If that's what you want, then yes."
I didn't know what it was. Perhaps it was the way his shoulders straightened just slightly or the way his eyes never left mine as he said it, but I believed him.
He glanced at a nearby clock. "I have to get to practice, so just let me know what you decide." He held out his hand. "Give me your phone."
"Why?"
"Because if I ask you for your number, I have a feeling you wouldn't be too keen on giving it to me." He smirked. "You'll have all the control here. You could choose not to text me, and I won't have any way of contacting you to get you to come."
I didn't argue with that.
"Text me by five if you want to meet," he said as his fingers quickly worked over my screen. "If you don't text me at all, then I'll have my answer."
He handed my phone back to me. I checked the number saved—but there was no name above it. Only an emoji of a blue heart.
I stared at Dez but he merely shrugged as he turned away, heading for practice. "Blue's my favorite color."
***
"So, are you going?" Alyssa's voice blared from my phone as I put her on speaker. I'd called her ten minutes ago, when I got sick of staring at my phone in silence.
"I don't know." I dragged a hand over my face as I plopped down on my bed and let myself sink into the mattress. Part of me hoped the memory foam would swallow me up so I didn't have to do anything at all. "I don't want to see him more than I already have to, but if I go, he said he'd go to the office tomorrow and go back to his old schedule so we wouldn't have to be lab partners anymore. I'd be free of him."
"Dez would really do that?"
"I think so."
"Damn." Alyssa laughed. "He must mean business if he's willing to struggle going from his morning practices to his labs every day."
"How'd you know about that?"
"I have first period Bio lab. Two guys from the team had to do the same with their schedules in my class. I assume it's the same with Chem, right?"
"Oh," I said, "Yeah, it's the same. He'd have to go back to first period lab."
I heard Alyssa sigh. "Then its up to you, Lyra. Keeping what he knew a secret from you, regardless if he hated you or not, was awful of him. And I swear if I ever see him again, I will knock his pretty teeth right off his pretty face. But think about it. If you don't go, you'd have to deal with seeing him every single day for the rest of the semester. One dinner with him and you'll get rid of him for good. Do you think you can stomach an hour, an hour tops, alone with him?"
I glanced at the blue heart on my screen. And then the clock above it.
4:50.
"I don't know, Lyss. But I have ten minutes left to decide."