“Ugh!” K.C. grumbled in disgust. Standing up, she straightened her cut off jean skirt and stalked off towards the cafeteria doors, but Madoc and I still couldn’t control ourselves.

God, he’s the best.

“K.C., wait!” I shouted after her, not really trying to bring her back.

Madoc stood up, still chuckling. “K.C., come on. It was a joke.”

But she didn’t turn around.

And we kept laughing.

* * *

Tate and I had made eye contact a few times throughout the day. The storm in her eyes had turned to a drizzle, but I didn’t spend time thinking about it.

I couldn’t. The shit between us was over. It had been over for her a long time ago, but for me, it needed to end pronto.

Themes class passed peacefully, but Penley had us arrange our desks in circles, so I had a perfect view of Tate sitting across from me. Every once in a while, I would catch her glancing at me, the thoughts behind her eyes unclear.

We’d just moved our desks back into the regular position, and Mrs. Penley was talking about monologues that we were supposed to perform in the next two weeks. I was ready to just get the hell out of here and take Madman to the lake. Poor dog had been ignored lately with my work, school, and being gone on the weekends. Sometimes I took him with me when I spent time with Jax, but sleeping in my bed was usually the only time I got to hang out with him.

It briefly crossed my mind to see if Tate wanted to take him sometimes—give the guy some extra attention—but I pushed that thought out of my head right away.

We weren’t friends, and I wasn’t asking her for shit.

As if reading my thoughts, I noticed her shift in her seat, and I looked up to see her turned around, staring at me.

She blinked, looked down, and back up again like she was sad, lost, and something else. Something like regret or despair. Why was she sad? I narrowed my eyes, and tried to look away. I didn’t need to know what was going on with her.

“Now, class,” Penley spoke, her attention still focused on the piece of paper she wrote on. “Don’t forget that the anti-bullying assembly is on the twenty-ninth. Instead of going to first period, go to—”

Tate’s hand shot up. “Mrs. Penley,” she interrupted.

The teacher looked up. “Yes, Tate?”

“We have five minutes left of class.” Her voice was polite. “May I perform my monologue now?”

What the hell?

This project wasn’t due for a while, and everyone’s eyes, including Penley’s, bugged out.

What the hell was Tate doing?

“Um, well, I wasn’t expecting to grade anything yet. Do you have your essay ready?” Penley asked.

“No, I’ll have that by the due date, but I would really love to perform it now. Please.”

My teeth ground together.

“Okay.” Penley let out a reluctant sigh. “If you’re sure you’re ready…”

Great.

The last thing I wanted to do right now was look at Tate or hear her voice. Mostly because I knew it would be a struggle to not watch her.

Noise. Space. Distraction.

Slouching in my seat, I stretched out my legs and crossed my ankles. Picking up my pen, I pressed my pen onto my notebook paper and started drawing three dimensional cubes.

“I like storms,” I heard her start, but I kept my eyes trained on the lines I drew. “Thunder, torrential rain, puddles, wet shoes. When the clouds roll in, I get filled with this giddy expectation.”

I pinched my eyebrows together. Tate loved the rain.

“Everything is more beautiful in the rain. Don’t ask me why.” She sounded light and natural, like she was speaking to a friend. “But it’s like this whole other realm of opportunity. I used to feel like a superhero, riding my bike over the dangerously slick roads, or maybe an Olympic athlete enduring rough trials to make it to the finish line.”

She paused, and I lifted my pen, realizing I’d been outlining the same box over and over again.

“On sunny days, as a girl, I could still wake up to that thrilled feeling. You made me giddy with expectation, just like a symphonic rainstorm. You were a tempest in the sun, the thunder in a boring, cloudless sky.”

Suspicion inched its way under my skin, and my breathing got shallow.

This wasn’t a monologue.

She continued, “I remember I’d shovel in my breakfast as fast as I could, so I could go knock on your door. We’d play all day, only coming home for food and sleep. We played hide and seek, you’d push me on the swing, or we’d climb trees.”

I couldn’t help it. My eyes snapped up to meet hers, and my fucking heart…it was like she was reaching out and squeezing it in her hand.

Tate.

Was she speaking to me?

“Being your sidekick gave me a sense of home again.” Her eyes were locked with mine. “You see, when I was ten, my mom died. She had cancer, and I lost her before I really knew her. My world felt so insecure, and I was scared. You were the person that turned things right again. With you, I became courageous and free. It was like the part of me that died with my mom came back when I met you, and I didn’t hurt anymore. Nothing hurt if I knew I had you.”

I couldn’t catch my fucking breath. Why was she doing this? I meant nothing to her.

“Then one day, out of the blue, I lost you, too. The hurt returned, and I felt sick when I saw you hating me. My rainstorm was gone, and you became cruel. There was no explanation. You were just gone. And my heart was ripped open. I missed you. I missed my mom.”

A tear fell down her cheek as I felt my own throat tighten.

She was looking at me like she used to, like I was everything.

Piles and piles of fucking shit swirled through my mind as I watched her.

All the crap I’d done to prove that I was strong. To prove that I didn’t need someone that didn’t want me. I swallowed, trying to calm the pounding in my chest.

Had she loved me?

No.

She was lying. She had to be.

“What was worse than losing you was when you started to hurt me. Your words and actions made me hate coming to school. They made me uncomfortable in my own home.”

Her eyes pooled with more tears, and I wanted to break shit.

She was hurting. I was fucking miserable. And for what?

“Everything still hurts, but I know none of it is my fault,” she continued and thinned out her lips in a hard line. “There are a lot of words that I could use to describe you, but the only one that includes sad, angry, miserable, and pitiful is “coward.” In a year, I’ll be gone, and you’ll be nothing but some washout whose height of existence was in high school.” Her eyes zoned in on me again, and her voice grew strong. “You were my tempest, my thunder cloud, my tree in the downpour. I loved all of those things, and I loved you. But now…you’re a fucking drought. I thought that all the assholes drove German cars, but it turns out that pricks in Mustangs can still leave scars.”

My hands balled up, and I felt like I was crammed into a tight space, looking for a way out.

I barely registered the class clapping for her—no—cheering for her. Everyone thought her “performance” was great. I didn’t know what the hell to make of it.

She acted like she cared about me. Her words told me she remembered everything that used to be good between us. But the ending…it was like a goodbye.

She bowed, her hair falling around her with her dip, and she smiled a sad smile. Like she felt good but guilty that she felt good.

The distant cry of the school bell sounded, and I moved out of my seat, past her desk where she’d sat back down, and out of the room feeling like I was in a damn tunnel. People scurried around me, giving Tate congratulations on a job well done, and going about their business as if my world wasn’t crumbling.

Everything was white noise around me. The only sound that filled my ears was my own heartbeat as I walked in a daze into the hallway.

I pressed my forehead into the cool, tiled wall across from Penley’s classroom and closed my eyes.

What that hell had she just done to me in there?

I could barely breathe. I tried forcing air into my lungs.

No, no…

Fuck this.

She was lying. It was all an act.

All I’d wanted when I was fourteen was her. And she hadn’t been thinking about me when I was screaming for her. She didn’t miss me while I was at my father’s that summer. She didn’t want me then, and she didn’t want me now.

The day I got back, I’d needed her so goddamn much, and she hadn’t given me one fucking thought.

Goddammit, Tate. Don’t do this. Don’t fuck with my head.

Jesus, I didn’t know what I wanted to do anymore. I wanted to leave her alone. I wanted to forget her. But then I didn’t.

Maybe I just wanted to hold her and breathe her in until I could remember who I was.

But I couldn’t. I needed to hate Tate. I needed to hate her, because if I didn’t have a place to sink all of my energy, then I’d spin out again. My father would have me, and I wouldn’t have her to zone in on.

“See ya, Jared.”

I twisted around and blinked. Ben had called out to me, and she was with him.

She was looking at me like I was nothing. Like I wasn’t the focus of her life when she was the focus of everything in mine.

I stuck my fists into the pocket of my hoodie so they wouldn’t see me clenching them. It was kind of a natural thing for me to do now when I was in public. To keep my temper in check so that no one would notice what was boiling underneath.