“Oh really? That’s interesting. And what is Diego doing right now?” Mom’s lips grow tight.
She didn’t like him much when we dated, and it made her crazy that we were together for so long. She hated how serious we became. He is the complete opposite of me, of us. My family is quiet and subdued and…I don’t know. Normal? Boring? No one ever really argues or causes problems. Us kids do as we’re told. Mom and Dad aren’t yelling at us on a constant basis.
His family is loud and boisterous and his mother is just—there are no words to describe her, though I did appreciate how much she loved and protected me. Always reminding Diego I was the perfect girl for him.
Guess that prediction didn’t come true.
Mom and Dad didn’t like Diego’s mother. They found her too loud, too rude. Too—everything. They thought the same about Diego. He’ll bring you nothing but trouble is what my mother said when I first started seeing him. When I asked her exactly why she thought that, she didn’t have a good answer.
The gleam in his eyes is what she finally came up with.
Her constant nagging on me, telling me I shouldn’t be with him, only drove me away from her. Who can resist a bad boy? In my parents’ eyes, Diego was that and more.
Whatever Mom. Looks like you were right.
“What do you mean, what is Diego doing right now? He’s going to school, like the rest of us,” I tell her. “The football team is still in the playoffs.”
“So his life goes on perfectly normal, while your entire world is completely rocked.” Mom shakes her head, her disappointment—and disgust—clear.
“The curse of being female, I suppose,” I tell her, my voice light, my thoughts chaotic. The burden of a baby is on the female only because of biology. Not like Diego can get pregnant. But he suffers no consequences while I walk around campus with an imaginary red A on my chest like my new idol, Hester Prynne.
“Are you going to be okay driving home by yourself? You can ride home with me. I’ll bring you to school tomorrow,” she offers.
“No, I’m okay.” I shake my head and pull her in for a quick hug, clinging a little too long when I smell her familiar, comforting scent. Holding onto her makes fresh tears spring to my eyes and I push away before I start full-blown crying. I don’t want her to see me like that. She’ll start crying too. “I can drive home. I’ll see you in a bit.”
“Drive carefully!” she calls as she unlocks her car and opens the driver’s side door, sliding inside.
I watch her back the car up and pull out of the spot before I turn and head for the student parking lot. There is truly no one around. Basketball is practicing inside, as is the wrestling team. The football team might be on the field, but that’s on the other side of campus, so no worries of running into Diego.
Thank goodness.
Music is coming from the cheer room as I walk past it, and the flicker of relief knowing I won’t run into Cami either is reassuring. She avoids me, and I avoid her, but she’s been known to be confrontational. I’m surprised she hasn’t said something shitty to me yet.
That moment is coming, I’m sure.
I’m passing by the gym when a door swings open, and I hear a familiar voice. I start walking faster, my sixth sense kicking in, fear wrapping all around me at the possibility of who that might be.
No. Life doesn’t work like that. It can’t be him. He wouldn’t be in the gym.
I’m almost to the parking lot, and my car is in sight. I pick up speed, my heart dropping when I hear pounding footsteps coming from behind me. Like someone is following me. I don’t bother looking over my shoulder.
Without hesitation, I break out into a run.
When I’m close to my car, I feel fingers wrap around my upper arm, halting me from making my escape. Out of breath, I turn, knowing who it is before I even see his face. I recognize his scent. His touch. His freaking aura.
“What do you want?” I ask, my voice hostile, my entire body tense. And why isn’t he at football practice?
Diego’s grip lessens on my arm, but he still doesn’t let me go. My gaze drops to his hand, my lip curling in disgust. I don’t want him touching me.
His fingers spring away from me and he takes a step backward, giving me much-needed space. “You won’t answer my calls.”
He’s actually tried to call me? What does he want? “I blocked your number.” I blocked him everywhere I could. I didn’t want to see him or have a constant reminder of him on social media.
His expression turns incredulous, as if he can’t believe I would actually block his ass. His ego is enormous, though most of it is a front. Though I have to admit, my ex-boyfriend is very attractive. Dark hair, dark eyes, tall and broad. He used to have an easy smile but over the last six months or so, he’s become angrier. Those smiles don’t come as quick as they used to.
And now they’ll eventually belong to someone else.
“Why the hell would you block me?” He sounds genuinely confused.
Why are men so stupid?
“Because I don’t want anything to do with you anymore, Diego.” I say the words slowly, and they drip with anger. I haven’t talked to him face to face in weeks, and now he acts like it’s no big deal that we’re having a conversation.
Clearly, he’s delusional.
“But—”
“No buts. No arguments. Nothing you can say will change my mind.” I sound like I’ve got this conversation—and my entire life—under control, but inside, I’m shaking. “Everything you’ve done since I told you I was pregnant proves to me how you feel about this—about me—and I get it. Go back to Cami.”
I start to walk away, but he grabs me yet again, and I violently jerk my arm out of his hold, glaring at him.
“I’m not with her,” he says, his voice turning plaintive. “I haven’t been for a while.”
“How unfortunate. I’m sure you’ll find someone else.” I start walking.
So does he, keeping pace right beside me.
“I don’t want anyone else,” he says.
Keeping my gaze straight ahead, I pick up speed, grateful my car is nearby. “Have fun spending the rest of your senior year all alone. No one will want to get with the guy who knocked up his girlfriend.”
“Come on, Jocelyn,” he says, sounding frustrated.
“Fuck off, Diego.” I raise my hand up in the air and give him the finger, just as I’m about to get into my car.
“The reason I don’t want anyone else,” he hesitates and like a fool, I glance over my shoulder, my fingers still curled around the car door handle, “is because I’m—still in love with you.”
My heart trips over itself, then starts pounding out of control.
How—
Why—
Who the hell does he think he is?
Whirling around, I march up to him, ignoring the fact that I’m only about five-foot-seven to his six-foot. I’m not short, but standing next to him, he makes me feel like I am.
At the moment, though, I’m on him as if we’re equals in height and strength, drilling my index finger into his chest as if I want to puncture his heart.
Which I sort of do.
“Fuck you and your love. It’s meaningless. You put me through straight hell the last six months of our relationship, and now you claim you still love me? After you accuse me of getting pregnant to get you back?” Yes, that’s one rumor I heard, though I’ve never mentioned it to him before. Not like we’re talking on a regular basis.