A guy, who looked awfully like Micah from behind, had a girl pressed up against the counter at the back of the room, kissing her hungrily as his hand worked beneath her skirt.
“Micah, oh my God, don’t stop,” a familiar breathy female voice filled the darkroom.
I knew the perfect profile of the girl who threw her head back in pleasure.
Christy McAlister. Senior. Blond. Five foot ten.
Student body president.
Cheerleader.
My exact opposite.
I quickly pulled the door closed before either of them caught sight of me.
Tears burned in my throat and eyes.
This whole time Micah was screwing around with Christy?
Christy only dated older guys. Not younger ones!
Of course, she’d break her rules for Micah.
And he’d been in there… touching her!
Oh my God, I was such an idiot.
I’d look back on this moment as an adult and cringe but when you’re fifteen, in love with a boy, and you find out that you’re the exact opposite of the kind of girl he likes to be with… well, let’s just say it feels like the world is ending.
Tears streaming down my face, I hurried back to my class; I explained to my teacher I wasn’t feeling well and she took me to the office. They thankfully let me go home.
As soon as I got in the car, my tears got out of control.
I tried to calm down long enough to drive home without crashing the car.
Mom calling my cell was the splash of cold reality I needed. I knew I had to answer or she’d come home. “Mom,” my voice broke on the word.
I wanted to tell her the truth. That I loved Micah and he liked someone else.
But I could never tell her that stuff. She always made everything I felt seem small and childish.
“Valentine, are you okay?” she sounded concerned, making me feel terrible for thinking badly of her. “The school just called.”
I sucked back more tears as I lied, “I threw up. I really don’t feel well.”
“Okay. It worried your teacher you’re driving home alone.”
“I’m okay. I just need to go to bed.”
“Well, I hope it’s just something you’ve eaten and not a bug. You’ve got end of semester exams to concentrate on.”
Gee. Thanks for the sympathy, Mom.
“Right. I gotta go.”
“Oh, sweetheart, I didn’t mean it like that. You know how I get. I just want you to do well. Text me when you arrive at the house. Feel better.”
I texted her when I got to the house but I didn’t feel better.
First, I stopped in the doorway of Micah’s room, was just down the hall from my bedroom. It had once been a nicely appointed guest room.
Now it smelled like Micah, and he had posters and drawings on the wall. Mostly posters of favorite bands, books, and artists. The drawings were sketches of building designs he’d imagined. He was so talented. So smart. Smarter than me.
Smart like Christy.
Of course he was into intelligent, stupidly gorgeous, blond cheerleaders with legs up to their ears.
I promptly returned to my room, curled up on my bed and sobbed until it felt like my entire body ached.
It couldn’t have been that much longer when my eyes cracked open at the feel of a hand on my arm.
I knew who it was without turning my head.
The last person I wanted to see.
“Hey.” His deep voice made my chest hurt. His palm brushed down my arm in comfort. “Kim said you had to come home early.”
My swollen eyes moved to the vintage alarm clock on my bedside table. School had only just let out. “Shouldn’t you be at practice?” I sounded rough, croaky.
“Cupid, you don’t sound so good.”
I squeezed my eyes closed at his nickname for me. He thought it was interesting that my parents, who didn’t seem all that romantic, would give me such a romantic name. But they met on Valentine’s Day. Hence my name. And Micah’s pet name for me.
A pet name I moronically thought meant something.
Turned out it was because he saw me like a little sister.
“I’m fine. Practice?”
“Four guys on the team got detention today. Coach was so mad he cancelled practice. And then Kim told me you left school cause you were sick. I got worried.” He gently pulled on my arm so I turned to look at him.
His handsome face clouded over, those amazing gray eyes of his filled with suspicion and concern. “You’ve been crying. You’re not sick, something happened.” Micah seemed suddenly fierce. Like he’d fight off an army for me.
The vision of him and Christy in the darkroom flashed before my eyes and I turned away from him. “Nothing. I’m okay.”
Hurt silence filled the air between us.
I never shut out Micah.
But that was the problem.
“Valentine.” He leaned over me, brushing my hair off my face. I suppressed a shiver. “You’re really worrying me.”
“There’s nothing to worry about,” I whispered, my voice cracking as I fought back more tears. “It’s just stupid girl stuff.”
“Oh. Is it… is it your period?”
My eyebrows hit my hairline and I looked at him in surprise. Most boys (even my dad!) couldn’t even say the word, let alone think it.
Micah grinned. It was crooked and boyish. And I was so in love with his smile. “I grew up with just my mom. I’m not squeamish. Girls get periods, it sounds like they suck, and I don’t envy you. Unfortunately, they’re kind of a big deal in the perpetuation of humanity, and you ladies have to bear it for us men because we have a zero-pain threshold. And the baby thing. No way we could do that. So… thanks. For all of that.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed at his rambling.
His eyes brightened. “That’s better.” He shook me gently. “Come on, Cupid. Tell me what’s wrong.”
A tear escaped before I could stop it. “It’s not my period… I found out today that the boy I like, likes someone else.”
He seemed shocked. Uncomfortable. His hand withdrew from my arm.
I turned away. “Told you it was stupid.”
“Hey, hey.” Micah leaned over me again and I couldn’t help but meet his gaze. He studied my face like I was precious. I wish he wouldn’t. It just confused me. “Any guy who doesn’t see how unbelievably special you are, isn’t worth all these tears.”
Right.
Except he was.
I lowered my gaze so he wouldn’t see the truth.
“Come here.” Suddenly he hauled me into his arms. A big part of me wanted to shove him away. But I loved the feel of Micah’s strong arms around me. I pressed my cheek to his shoulder and held on as he whispered against my hair, voice gruff, “There is no one like you, Val. No one. Don’t waste your time on any guy that doesn’t realize how fucking lucky he is that you want to be with him.”
I smiled sadly against his shoulder and held on a little tighter as my dreams of us each being part of one whole disappeared.
I decided then and there that I would take Micah Green’s advice to heart.
3
Micah
AGE 18