Anna and the French Kiss
Page 71
“But that’s just it!” I burst from my chair, and suddenly he’s right on top of me. “I don’t know you. I tell you everything, St. Clair. About my dad, about Bridgette and Toph, about Matt and Cherrie. I told you about being a virgin.” I look away, humiliated to say it aloud. “And what have you told me? Nothing!
I know nothing about you. Not about your father, not about El ie—”
“You know me better than anyone.” He’s furious. “And if you ever bothered to pay attention, you’d understand that things with my father are beyond shite right now. And I can’t believe you think so poorly of me that you’d assume I’d wait the entire year to kiss you, and then the moment it happened, I’d . . . I’d be done with you. OF COURSE I was with El ie that night. I WAS BLOODY BREAKING UP WITH HER!”
The silence is deafening.
They broke up? Oh God. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I can’t—
He stares me directly in the eyes. “You say that I’m afraid of being alone, and it’s true. I am. And I’m not proud of it. But you need to take a good look at yourself, Anna, because I am not the only one in this room who suffers this problem.”
He’s standing so close that I feel his chest rising and fal ing, quick and angry. My heart pounds against his. He swal ows. I swal ow. He leans in,
hesitantly, and my body betrays me and mimics his in response. He closes his eyes. I close mine.
The door flies open, and we startle apart.
Josh enters detention and shrugs. “I ditched pre-calc.”
Chapter forty-three
I can’t look at him for the rest of detention. How can I be afraid of being alone, if it’s the only thing I’ve been lately? It’s not like I’ve had a boyfriend all year, like he’s had a girlfriend. Though I did cling to the idea of Toph. Kept him as—the thought makes me wince—a reserve. And Dave.Wel . He was there,
and I was there, and he was will ing, so I was, too. I’ve been worried that I was only with Dave because I was mad at St. Clair, but perhaps . . . perhaps I was tired of being alone.
But is that so wrong?
Does that mean it’s not wrong that St. Clair didn’t want to be alone either? He’s afraid of change, afraid to make big decisions, but so am I. Matt said
that if I’d just talked with Toph, I could have saved myself months of anguish. But I was too scared to mess with the relationship we might have, to deal with what we real y did have. And if I’d bothered to listen to what Matt was trying to tell me, maybe St. Clair and I would have had this conversation ages ago.
But St. Clair should have said something! I’m not the only one at fault.
Wait. Isn’t that what he was just saying? That we’re both at fault? Rashmi said I was the one who walked away from her. And she was right. She and
Josh actual y helped me that day at the park, and I ditched them. And Mer.
Oh my God, Meredith.
What’s wrong with me? Why haven’t I tried apologizing again? Am I incapable of keeping a friend? I have to talk to her. Today. Now. Immediately. When
Professeur Hansen releases us from detention, I tear for the door. But something stops me when I hit the hal . I pause beneath the frescoed nymphs and
satyrs. I turn around.
St. Clair is waiting in the doorway, staring at me.
“I have to talk to Meredith.” I bite my lip.
St. Clair nods slowly.
Josh appears behind him. He addresses me with a peculiar confidence. “She misses you. You’l be fine.” He glances at St. Clair. “You’l both be fine.”
He’s said that to me before. “Yeah?” I ask.
Josh lifts an eyebrow and smiles. “Yeah.”
It’s not until I’m walking away that I wonder if “both” means Meredith and me, or St. Clair and me. I hope both means both. I return to Résidence Lambert, and I knock on her door after a quick trip to my own room. “Mer? Can we talk?”
She cracks open her door. “Hey.” Her voice is gentle enough.
We stare at each other. I hold up two mugs. “Chocolat chaud?”
And she looks like she could cry at the sight. She lets me in, and I set down a cup on her desk. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Meredith.”
“No, I’m sorry. I’ve been a jerk. I had no right to be angry with you.”
“That’s not true, I knew how you felt about him, and I kissed him anyway. It wasn’t right. I should have told you that I liked him, too.”
We sit on her bed. She twists a glittery star-shaped ring around her finger. “I knew how you felt about each other. Everyone knew how you felt about each other.”
“But—”
“I didn’t want to believe it. After so long, I stil had this . . . stupid hope. I knew he and El ie were having problems, so I thought maybe—” Meredith
chokes up, and it takes a minute before she can continue.
I stir my hot chocolate. It’s so thick it’s nearly a sauce. She taught me well .
“We used to hang out all the time. St. Clair and me. But after you arrived, I hardly saw him. He’d sit next to you in class, at lunch, at the movies.
Everywhere. And even though I was suspicious, I knew the first time I heard you cal him Étienne—I knew you loved him. And I knew by his response—the way his eyes lit up every time you said it—I knew he loved you, too. And I ignored it, because I didn’t want to believe it.”
The struggle rises inside me again. “I don’t know if he loves me. I don’t know if he does, or if he ever did. It’s all so messed up.”
“It’s obvious he wants more than friendship.” Mer takes my shaking mug. “Haven’t you seen him? He suffers every time he looks at you. I’ve never seen
anyone so miserable in my life.”
“That’s not true.” I’m remembering he said the situation with his father is real y terrible right now. “He has other things on his mind, more important
things.”
“Why aren’t the two of you together?”
The directness of her question throws me. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think there are only so many opportunities . . . to get together with someone. And
we’ve both screwed up so many times”—my voice grows quiet—“that we’ve missed our chance.”
I know nothing about you. Not about your father, not about El ie—”
“You know me better than anyone.” He’s furious. “And if you ever bothered to pay attention, you’d understand that things with my father are beyond shite right now. And I can’t believe you think so poorly of me that you’d assume I’d wait the entire year to kiss you, and then the moment it happened, I’d . . . I’d be done with you. OF COURSE I was with El ie that night. I WAS BLOODY BREAKING UP WITH HER!”
The silence is deafening.
They broke up? Oh God. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I can’t—
He stares me directly in the eyes. “You say that I’m afraid of being alone, and it’s true. I am. And I’m not proud of it. But you need to take a good look at yourself, Anna, because I am not the only one in this room who suffers this problem.”
He’s standing so close that I feel his chest rising and fal ing, quick and angry. My heart pounds against his. He swal ows. I swal ow. He leans in,
hesitantly, and my body betrays me and mimics his in response. He closes his eyes. I close mine.
The door flies open, and we startle apart.
Josh enters detention and shrugs. “I ditched pre-calc.”
Chapter forty-three
I can’t look at him for the rest of detention. How can I be afraid of being alone, if it’s the only thing I’ve been lately? It’s not like I’ve had a boyfriend all year, like he’s had a girlfriend. Though I did cling to the idea of Toph. Kept him as—the thought makes me wince—a reserve. And Dave.Wel . He was there,
and I was there, and he was will ing, so I was, too. I’ve been worried that I was only with Dave because I was mad at St. Clair, but perhaps . . . perhaps I was tired of being alone.
But is that so wrong?
Does that mean it’s not wrong that St. Clair didn’t want to be alone either? He’s afraid of change, afraid to make big decisions, but so am I. Matt said
that if I’d just talked with Toph, I could have saved myself months of anguish. But I was too scared to mess with the relationship we might have, to deal with what we real y did have. And if I’d bothered to listen to what Matt was trying to tell me, maybe St. Clair and I would have had this conversation ages ago.
But St. Clair should have said something! I’m not the only one at fault.
Wait. Isn’t that what he was just saying? That we’re both at fault? Rashmi said I was the one who walked away from her. And she was right. She and
Josh actual y helped me that day at the park, and I ditched them. And Mer.
Oh my God, Meredith.
What’s wrong with me? Why haven’t I tried apologizing again? Am I incapable of keeping a friend? I have to talk to her. Today. Now. Immediately. When
Professeur Hansen releases us from detention, I tear for the door. But something stops me when I hit the hal . I pause beneath the frescoed nymphs and
satyrs. I turn around.
St. Clair is waiting in the doorway, staring at me.
“I have to talk to Meredith.” I bite my lip.
St. Clair nods slowly.
Josh appears behind him. He addresses me with a peculiar confidence. “She misses you. You’l be fine.” He glances at St. Clair. “You’l both be fine.”
He’s said that to me before. “Yeah?” I ask.
Josh lifts an eyebrow and smiles. “Yeah.”
It’s not until I’m walking away that I wonder if “both” means Meredith and me, or St. Clair and me. I hope both means both. I return to Résidence Lambert, and I knock on her door after a quick trip to my own room. “Mer? Can we talk?”
She cracks open her door. “Hey.” Her voice is gentle enough.
We stare at each other. I hold up two mugs. “Chocolat chaud?”
And she looks like she could cry at the sight. She lets me in, and I set down a cup on her desk. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Meredith.”
“No, I’m sorry. I’ve been a jerk. I had no right to be angry with you.”
“That’s not true, I knew how you felt about him, and I kissed him anyway. It wasn’t right. I should have told you that I liked him, too.”
We sit on her bed. She twists a glittery star-shaped ring around her finger. “I knew how you felt about each other. Everyone knew how you felt about each other.”
“But—”
“I didn’t want to believe it. After so long, I stil had this . . . stupid hope. I knew he and El ie were having problems, so I thought maybe—” Meredith
chokes up, and it takes a minute before she can continue.
I stir my hot chocolate. It’s so thick it’s nearly a sauce. She taught me well .
“We used to hang out all the time. St. Clair and me. But after you arrived, I hardly saw him. He’d sit next to you in class, at lunch, at the movies.
Everywhere. And even though I was suspicious, I knew the first time I heard you cal him Étienne—I knew you loved him. And I knew by his response—the way his eyes lit up every time you said it—I knew he loved you, too. And I ignored it, because I didn’t want to believe it.”
The struggle rises inside me again. “I don’t know if he loves me. I don’t know if he does, or if he ever did. It’s all so messed up.”
“It’s obvious he wants more than friendship.” Mer takes my shaking mug. “Haven’t you seen him? He suffers every time he looks at you. I’ve never seen
anyone so miserable in my life.”
“That’s not true.” I’m remembering he said the situation with his father is real y terrible right now. “He has other things on his mind, more important
things.”
“Why aren’t the two of you together?”
The directness of her question throws me. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think there are only so many opportunities . . . to get together with someone. And
we’ve both screwed up so many times”—my voice grows quiet—“that we’ve missed our chance.”
