Definitely, Maybe in Love (20 page)

I felt like a traitor—to Julia, to myself, to everything I believed in. Even though I’d
unknowingly
been fraternizing with the enemy, I couldn’t stop the guilt. To block out that feeling, I concentrated on the anger, the betrayal. The only solace was that it had only been kissing.

Yes, despite what I’d wanted to happen, I’d only
kissed
him. And it meant nothing. He meant nothing.

Weakness and gravity pushed me onto the pillows, but that made my head throb more fiercely, so I rolled to my side and slid off the bed.

With all the lights off, the living room was murky. Shadows and bits of late afternoon sun broke though the overcast, painting shapes and curves on the eastern wall. At the foot of the stairs I stopped, glancing around the room. My backpack was sitting by the coffee table, the textbook and highlighter I’d dropped lying neatly on top.

Still standing on the last stair, I remembered there was also a bottle of aspirin in my bag, but I couldn’t seem to get my feet to move me in that direction. Instead, I stepped forward to the wall by the front door, leaned against it, and slid to the floor, my knees bending in front of my chest.

I shut my eyes, but my brain inside spun so fast I couldn’t focus, so I stayed curled in a ball. Less than a minute later, a noise startled me conscious.

I lifted my chin in time to see the front door next to me creak open.

Chapter 26

“Spring?”

I toyed with the idea of saying nothing, hoping he’d give up and back out the way he came.

“Spring? Are you awake?”

“I’m right here.”
Dumb ass.

Knightly jerked around. “Oh.” He exhaled a startled laugh, then cleared his throat. “You’re all right?”

“What are you doing here?” I pulled myself to my feet, gazed longingly toward the top of the stairs, but didn’t think my legs could carry me all the way up there. So, robot-like, I moved toward the couch.

He was right behind me. “I wanted to check on you. Tyler said—”

“I’m fine.”

He stepped in front of me, blocking my way. “You don’t seem fine.”

My temples throbbed, and while the rest of my body was clammy and cold, it felt like my head was on fire.

The dimness of the room cast a shadow over his frame. I scanned him quickly.

Nothing in his appearance had altered in the last five hours, causing images to flood my mind—images of a certain campfire, a certain gas station, and a face that had been so near to me for so many hours that I could see nothing else every time I closed my eyes.

It was an honest struggle to throw up a mental brick wall before any more memories and feelings could break through. A fresh jolt of anguish struck as I looked into his face now. Longing mingled with antipathy…I didn’t have the emotional experience to handle that; my feelings for him were too mixed up, too raw.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” I said. Stepping around him, I grabbed my backpack and hooked it over one shoulder. The simple gesture of moving made my body twinge in pain. That must’ve shown on my face.

“What’s…?” Henry asked, sounding alarmed.

When I tried to step around him again, he reached for my hand. The touch of his skin made me flinch. He didn’t let go.

I almost said something…but didn’t.

Midway through last semester, I’d grown a distaste for arguing with him—not our innocuous debates that often ended with a clearer understanding of each other’s views, but the
real
fights, the rows that left us both in bad moods, worse off.

As I stood before him now, trying my hardest to not look into those chocolaty eyes with the golden flecks, even as the quarrel was building on my tongue…I made a decision to let it pass. I would rather say nothing of it,
think
nothing of it, than fight. I didn’t have the strength. Or the heart.

Once I convinced him that I was fine, he would leave and I would never have to deal with him again.

Yes, it was a cowardly response, but the last thing I wanted to do was feel worse.

“Will you please sit down?” He took my arm and gently persuaded me to the couch. I didn’t bother protesting, because it truly felt like my knees were about to buckle. He sat on the next cushion, not too close. Maybe he thought I was carrying something contagious. At least that would keep him at a distance.

“Can I get you something?”

“I told you I’m fine,” I said coldly, trying to not breathe. The heady scent of him still registered in the back of my throat, making my mouth water.

“I don’t think you are.”

I made myself look his way. He was smiling, only slightly. Mostly though, I could tell he was concerned, anxious even, at what he was observing in me. A fist squeezed around my heart, knowing that a very big part of me longed to ease his anxiety. But then my stomach rolled, reminding me why I couldn’t.

“Are you tired?” he asked.

“Of
course
I’m…” But I made myself stop, not allowing my mouth to remind me aloud why it was that I was tired, why we’d been up all night. I sat forward, ramrod straight and pinched my eyelids together, concentrating on mentally folding an origami swan, blocking out the reasons for my anger.

Numb. Nothing. Blank.

“Ah, I see,” he said, and I felt my backpack leaving my shoulder, sliding off my arm. “Why don’t you relax and put your feet up.” His hands were on my shoulders, pushing me back against the cushions. I didn’t fight this, either.

I was aware that Henry had left the couch only when he returned. When I peeled my eyelids apart, there was a napkin and an open can of ginger ale on the coffee table before me. I closed my eyes again. A few seconds later, I felt the cold can between my hands. Mechanically, I lifted it to my lips and took a sip.

“Feeling better?”

“I said I’m—”

“Fine,” he finished for me. “I heard you the first three times.” He was studying me, wearing that anxious/concerned expression again, but when he met my eyes, he lifted an encouraging smile. “I was going to bring this up later,” he said, “but since you’re feeling fine and all…”

“What?” I asked, setting the can on the coffee table.

“I have news. A surprise.”

Oh, goodie
, the angry side of my brain jabbed.
Are you leaving now? Is that the surprise? Bon voyage, buddy. Don’t trip on your way out
. The very next moment, my chest and throat burned with anguish. I didn’t want him to go anywhere.

“A surprise for you.”

I pinched my dry, burning lids together in a long blink, then glanced across the room, trying to focus on anything else while he continued talking.

“Of course, there are two floors, like I was telling you yesterday,” he was saying. “Plenty of space—too much, really, but it’s a perfect getaway. Well-deserved, I think.” He laughed, but it had a bite of something else to it. “I don’t know what my family will say. Camille will be in favor; my parents, though, I don’t know. My father will freak out, but I think my mother will understand, maybe…”

I continued to sit still, my head throbbing, my stomach knotting up, not having a clue what he was going on about.

“But I don’t care. I haven’t for months, obviously. It’s a wonder I haven’t been thrown out of the program.” Another bitter laugh. “Law school, my family…none of it means much right now. I tried to put off any decision, thought moving would help, but nothing did any good, because here we are. At this point, the thought of living any other way is impossible.”

When he lifted my hand off my lap, I glanced at him, straining from the pressure writhing behind my eyes.

“We can go tomorrow,” he said. “Or tonight. Right now, if you want.”

When my eyebrows pulled together, it caused a new pain in my head. “Go?” I said, realizing I hadn’t been listening. “Where?”

He pressed his hands together, mine between them. “Tahiti.”

Even though I was physically immovable, my brain was working now, catching up to what he’d been saying.

“What?”
I pulled my hand free.

He seemed mystified by my reaction, because he only stared at me. A moment later, he sighed and the lines in his forehead smoothed out. “The invitation might seem out of the blue to you, but I’ve been thinking about it, about you, a lot, and you know how I feel…”

He looked into my eyes and leaned in.

I almost allowed it to happen. Part of me wanted it, wanted
him
,
needed
him. I could practically taste the delicious water waiting to quench my aching pain and thirst. My hands longed to touch him and feel him one more time, while another part of me knew better, and I followed its command.

“Don’t,” I said, scooting away and standing up. “Don’t do that.”

Knightly remained on the edge of the couch, looking a little rattled. “Why are you so upset?”

I put my hands on my hips. “Hmm, where should I begin?”

When he rose to his feet, I stepped back, keeping a distance. Henry stopped and watched me guardedly, like he was waiting to see if my head was about to burst into flames.

“Spring,” he said, sounding genuinely concerned and more than a little anxious. “What’s really going on? What’s wrong?”

“This
plan
of yours,” I began. “You expect me to drop out of Stanford, leave my whole life, and fly across the world?”

He moved toward me cautiously, his hands out like a cowboy approaching a wild mustang. “I’m sorry if I was undiplomatic about it. I’m not romantic, but I
am
only thinking of you. You can take a break there, finish your thesis. It’s all arranged.”

“You’re crazy, you know that? You’re insane, you’re—
Why
are you
laughing
?”

He slid his hands in his pockets, his huge grin about to break. “I so enjoy when you get like this.”

“You
enjoy
when I’m
angry
?”

He took a beat, his brows furrowing. “No, not angry,” he corrected. It was one of the few times I’d seen him backpedal. “You know when I’m just pushing your buttons.”

“You need to leave,” I said, realizing my do-not-argue plan had failed. “Right now.”

His smile dropped. “Why?”

I nodded toward the door, but he didn’t move. “I
swear
, Henry Knightly”—my voice was getting louder and higher pitched—“if you don’t
leave
this
instant
—”

“Spring.”

I jabbed a finger at the door, demanding that he go.

“I’m not leaving.” He took a step forward. “I’m in love with you.”

I blinked, and air whooshed from my lungs in one hard gust. “What did you say?”

He took another step. “I love you.”

For a moment, I still couldn’t breathe—I was in shock, his simple words derailing my anger completely. But the moment was up as quickly as it had come. He might as well have said his favorite color was blue.

“So?” I said, forcing my voice to regrip the anger.

I could both see and hear him take in a sharp breath.

“So?” He ran a hand through his hair. “I love you and I want you…to come with me, to
be
with me.”

“You seriously think I’ll run away with you because that’s what you happen to want at the moment?”

Words were flying at me, I could actually see them in my mind’s eye, forming into sentences. Aiding and abetting these words were memories from the past, bruised feelings that were supposed to be gone, that I
thought
were gone. I only had to open my mouth and they came tumbling out.

“May I remind you that the night we met you treated me like an ingrate? You were rude and judgmental because of what you heard and because of the way I looked, like I was beneath your dignity.”

“That’s not true.”

“Why don’t you take
Lilah
to Tahiti? I’m sure she’d be thrilled to pick up where you two left off.”

Knightly turned completely white. I thought this would please me, but it didn’t. In fact, it felt like the wind had been knocked out of me again. Once more, I wanted to go to him, to take back my words, to wrap my arms around him until the hurt in his eyes went away. In some sick, ironic twist, I knew that comforting him would comfort me. If the past didn’t exist, nothing would be in our way.

But the past was rushing back, too quickly for me to block, and it was very real.

“
Lilah
, Henry!” My voice broke. “What were you thinking?”

At that point, I didn’t know if I wanted an explanation from him, or an apology, or what. All I knew was suddenly the thought of them together was revolting.

He spread his hands. “Lilah was… Spring, she means nothing to me. It was nothing.”

“Nothing?” I repeated. “You have sex with her and that’s nothing? Even you can’t be that crass.”

He dropped his hands but didn’t reply.

“Is that what you expect out of me, too? I’m so sorry I disappointed you by not tearing off my clothes in front of the campfire.”

“I wasn’t going to sleep with you last night. It’s been one day, we’re not…” He trailed off and thrust another hand through his hair. “Lilah was a mistake that I’ve regretted every day since. Believe me.”

“Yeah, sure,” I scoffed, remembering how she was all over him at the street party. Sure, he hadn’t looked extremely into it, but I never witnessed him fighting her off.

“Well, I’m certain your family took to her much more than they ever would to me. Now you’ll never have to worry about what they’ll think.” I was so mad my mind went blank, yet the words kept flying out like darts aimed at his heart. “I know all about your family, and your
sister
.
Alex
told me everything.”

Knightly’s face warped from white to red. “Don’t believe anything he says,” he muttered, almost like a threat. “I warned you to stay away from him.”

“You
warned
me?” I echoed. “For your information, Alex told me about the crap-load of things you did to him in high school.”

“Me?” He pointed at his chest, sounding indignant. “To
him
?”

I nodded firmly. “And you obviously haven’t changed. You’re still duplicitous to anybody who happens to
not
have a million dollars in the bank.”

“That’s absurd,” he muttered, pacing the room like a flea-bag lawyer working a jury. He stopped and took a few breaths, raking both hands through his hair. “So that’s the reason you’re upset.” He dropped his chin and exhaled, calming himself down. “Do you honestly believe what he told you?” When I didn’t reply, he spun around. “It’s not true,” he said, his voice full of entreating. “You know me.”

“Do I?”

I’d spoken aloud, but I was asking only myself.

I don’t remember him reaching out or holding me by the arms, but there he was. His hands moved up to my shoulders, slight pressure to keep me still, reminding me of last night.

“Yes, you do,” he said softly, staring into my eyes. “Think. Please.”

So I did. About him, and about me. About what I thought to be the truth, and what I felt was true down to my toes. His kindness toward his friends, his brilliant mind, his patience with me, how strong I felt when we were together, how he challenged me and made me fight for what I believed in. From day one.

The anger was dissolving, and the queasiness settled. Because, yes, I knew.

“I…I guess I’m not sure what really happened between you and Alex,” I admitted softly. “And maybe it doesn’t matter, because what I feel…” He gripped my shoulders, easing me toward him. “I feel…” I touched his face, my fingers running across his chin, his parted lips, resting on his cheek.