The Deal by Elle Kennedy
“Those better be happy tears!” he says.
I touch my cheek, surprised to feel moisture there. I hadn’t even realized I was crying.
“That was spectacular,” a voice bursts out, and I turn to see Fiona marching toward me. She sweeps me into her arms and hugs me. “You were breathtaking, Hannah. Best performance of the night.”
Her words don’t ease the tight ache in my chest. I manage a nod and mumble, “I need to use the ladies’ room. Excuse me.”
I leave Dex, Fiona and Jae staring after me in confusion, but I don’t care, and I don’t slow down. Fuck the ladies’ room. And fuck the rest of this showcase. I don’t want to stand around and watch the senior performances. I don’t want to wait for the scholarship ceremony. I just want to get the hell out of here and find a private place to cry.
I sprint toward the exit, my silver ballet flats slapping the hardwood floor in my desperate need to flee.
I’m five feet from the door when I smack into a hard male chest.
My gaze flies up and lands on a pair of gray eyes, and it takes a second to realize I’m looking at Garrett.
Neither one of us speaks. He’s wearing black trousers and a blue button-down that stretches across his broad shoulders. His expression is a mixture of shining wonder and endless sorrow.
“Hi,” he says gruffly.
My heart does a happy somersault, and I have to remind myself that this isn’t a happy occasion, that we’re still broken up. “Hi.”
“You were…brilliant.” Those beautiful eyes go a bit glassy. “Absolutely beautiful.”
“You were in the audience?” I whisper.
“Where the fuck else would I be?” But he doesn’t sound angry, just sad. Then his voice thickens and he murmurs, “How many?”
Confusion slides through me. “How many what?”
“How many guys have you dated this week?”
I jerk in surprise. “None,” I blurt out before I can stop myself.
And I regret it instantly, because a knowing glimmer fills his eyes. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”
“Garrett—”
“Here’s the thing, Wellsy,” he interrupts. “I’ve had seven whole days to think about this breakup. The first night? I got wasted. Seriously fucking trashed.”
A jolt of panic hits me, because it suddenly occurs to me that he might have hooked up with someone else when he was drunk, and the thought of Garrett with another girl kills me.
But then he keeps talking and my anxiety eases. “After that, I sobered up and wised up and decided to make better use of my time. So…I’ve had seven whole days to analyze and reanalyze what happened between us, to dissect what went wrong, to reexamine every word you said that night…” He slants his head. “Do you want to know the conclusion I reached?”
God, I’m terrified to hear it.
When I don’t answer, he smiles. “My conclusion is that you lied to me. I don’t know why you did it, but trust me, I intend to find out.”
“I didn’t lie,” I lie. “We really were moving too fast for me. And I really do want to see other people.
“Uh-huh. Really?”
I put on my most insistent tone. “Really.”
Garrett goes quiet for a moment. Then he reaches out and lightly strokes my cheek before pulling back and saying, “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
42
Hannah
Christmas break doesn’t come soon enough. I am literally a mess as I board the plane to Philly—dressed in sweats, sporting bedhead, and covered with stress zits. Since the showcase, I’ve run into Garrett three times. Once at the Coffee Hut, once in the quad, and once outside the Ethics lecture hall when I came to pick up my graded paper. All three times, he asked me how many guys I’ve dated since our breakup.
All three times, I panicked, blurted out some excuse about being late, and ran off like a coward.
Here’s the thing about breaking up with someone under false pretenses. They don’t buy your bullshit unless you actually turn around and do the thing you said you wanted to do. In my case, I need to be dating a whole bunch of randoms and getting my exploration on, because that’s what I told Garrett I wanted, and if I don’t put my money where my mouth is, he’ll know something’s up.
I suppose I could ask someone out. Go on a very public date that Garrett will no doubt hear about and convince the guy I love that I’ve moved on. But the thought of being with anyone other than Garrett makes me want to throw up.
Fortunately, I don’t have to worry about any of that right now. I’ve gotten a reprieve, because I’ll be spending the next three weeks with my family.
I get on the plane, and for the first time since Garrett’s father issued his punishing ultimatum, I’m finally able to breathe.
Seeing my parents is just what I needed. Don’t get me wrong, I still think about Garrett non-stop, but it’s a lot easier to distract myself from the heartache when I’m baking Christmas cookies with my dad or being dragged into the city for a day of shopping with my mom and aunt.
On our second night in Philly, I told my mom about Garrett. Or rather, she wrestled it out of me after she caught me moping in the guest room. She informed me that I looked like a hobo who’d just crawled out from under the boardwalk and proceeded to shove me in the shower and force me to brush my hair. After that, I spilled my guts, which prompted Mom to launch what she’s now calling Operation Holiday Cheer. In other words, she’s crammed a gazillion holiday activities down my throat, and I love her dearly for it.
I’m not looking forward to going back to Briar in three days, where Garrett is undoubtedly planning his own not-so-covert op—Operation Get Hannah To Admit She Was Lying. I just know he’s going to try to win me back.
I also know it won’t take much effort on his part. All he has to do is look at me with those gorgeous gray eyes, flash that crooked grin of his, and I’ll break down in tears, throw my arms around him, and tell him everything.
I miss him.
“Hey, sweetie, are you coming down to watch the ball drop with us?” Mom appears in the doorway and holds up a bowl of popcorn enticingly, and I’m reminded of the first time I spent the night at Garrett’s, when we stuffed ourselves full of popcorn and watched hours of television.
“Yeah, I’ll be down soon,” I answer. “I just want to change into comfy clothes.”
Once she walks off, I climb off the bed and dig around in my suitcase for a pair of yoga pants. I wiggle out of my skinny jeans and replace them with the soft cotton pants, then head downstairs to the living room, where my parents, my aunt and uncle, and their friends Bill and Susan are all lounging on the L-shaped couches.
I’m spending New Year’s Eve with three middle-aged couples.
Par-ty.
“So, Hannah,” Susan pipes up, “your mother was just telling me that you won a prestigious scholarship recently.”
I feel myself blushing. “I don’t know about prestigious. I mean, they give them out every year for the winter and spring showcases. But yeah, I did win.”
Take that, Cass Donovan, my inner smug monster shouts.
I hadn’t planned on going back to the auditorium after I ran into Garrett at the showcase, but Fiona ended up catching me just as I was trying to sneak out and dragged me back to the stage. And yep, I can’t deny that hearing my name announced at the scholarship ceremony gave me a total victory high. And I’ll never forget the outrage on Cass’s face when he realized they hadn’t called his name.
Now I’m five grand richer, and my parents can take a breather because I’ll be able to pay my residence and meal expenses on my own for this upcoming semester.
At ten to midnight, Uncle Mark puts an end to our chatter by unmuting the television so we can watch the Times Square celebration. Aunt Nicole hands out cardboard noisemakers with pink streamers on them while my mother passes around handfuls of confetti to everyone. My family is cheesy, but I wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world.
My eyes
January 1st is also Garrett’s birthday.
I clamp my lips together to stop the rush of tears, forcing a laugh as my father spins me around in his arms and kisses my cheek. “Happy New Year, princess.”
“Happy New Year, Dad.”
His green eyes soften when he notices my sad expression. “Aw, kiddo, why don’t you pick up the phone and call that poor boy already? It’s New Year’s Eve.”
My jaw drops, and then I swivel my head at my mother. “You told him?”
She at least has the decency to look guilty. “He asked why you were mopey. I couldn’t not tell him.”
My dad chuckles. “Oh, don’t blame your mom, Han. I figured it out all by myself. You’ve been so miserable I knew it had to be boy trouble. Now go wish him a happy new year. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”
I sigh. But I know he’s right.
My pulse speeds up as I hurry upstairs. I fish my cell phone out of my purse, then hesitate, because really, this is not a good idea. I broke up with him. I’m supposed to be moving on and seeing other people and blah fucking blah.
But it’s his birthday.
I exhale a shaky breath and make the call.
Garrett answers on the first ring. I expect to hear noise in the background. Chatter, laughter, drunken yells. But wherever he is, it’s as quiet as a church.
His husky voice tickles my ear. “Happy New Year, Hannah.”
“Happy birthday, Garrett.”
There’s a slight pause. “You remembered.”
I blink through my tears. “Of course I did.”
There are so many other things I want to say to him. I love you. I miss you. I hate your father. But I tamp down the urge and say nothing at all.
“How’s the dating going?” he asks cheerfully.
My stomach goes rigid. “Uh…it’s great.”
“Yeah? Doing lots of exploring? Conducting a thorough search for the meaning of love?”
There’s a mocking note there, but more than anything, he sounds amused. Smug, even.
“Yep,” I say lightly.
“How many guys have you dated?”
“A few.”
“Awesome. I hope they’re treating you right. You know, opening doors for you, laying their jackets on the ground so you can walk over puddles, that kind of stuff.”
God, he’s such a jackass. I love him.
“Don’t worry, they’re all very chivalrous,” I assure him. “I’m having a blast.”
“Good to hear.” He pauses. “I’ll see you in a few days. You can tell me all about it.”
He hangs up, and I curse under my breath.
Damn it. Why is he pushing this? Why can’t he just accept that it’s over between us and focus on his stupid hockey team?
And how the hell am I going to convince him I don’t want to be with him when I can’t even convince myself?
43
Hannah
My second day back on campus, I embark on my own mission: Operation Believe It When You See It. Because clearly the only way I can convince Garrett to back off is to prove to him that I’m in the process of moving on, which means I need to find a guy to go out on a date with. Stat.
The first opportunity arises when I pop into the Coffee Hut to grab a hot chocolate. It’s snowing like a bitch outside, and I stomp the snow off my boots on the mat by the door before heading for the back of the line. That’s when I notice that the guy in front of me looks familiar. When he places his order and moves to the pick-up counter, I get a flash of his profile and realize it’s Jimmy. Jimmy…what’s his last name again? Pauley? No, Paulson. Jimmy Paulson from British Lit and the Sigma party. Perfect. We’ve got history. We’re practically in a relationship.
“Jimmy, hey,” I greet him after I order my drink and join him at the counter.
He visibly stiffens at the sound of my voice. “Oh. Hey.” His gaze darts around the coffee shop, as if he doesn’t want anyone to see us talking.
“So, listen,” I start, “I was just thinking, we haven’t really talked since that party back in October…”
The barista plops a foam cup in front of Jimmy, who snatches it up so fast I don’t even see his hand move.
I hurry on. “I thought it would be nice to catch up and…”
He’s already edging away from me. Jesus, why does he look so terrified? Does he think I’m going to shiv him or something?
“…I was wondering if maybe you want to grab a coffee sometime,” I finish.
“Oh.” He inches farther away. “Uh. Thanks for the offer, but…uh, yeah, I don’t drink coffee.”
I stare at the coffee cup in his hand.
He follows my gaze and gulps. “I’m sorry, I have to go. I’m…meeting someone…all the way on the other side of the campus and it’s…uh, far, so I’m kind of in a hurry.”
Well, at least he’s not lying about being in a hurry—because he flies out the door like an Olympic sprinter.
Okay, that was…weird.
Frowning, I get my hot chocolate and go outside, heading in the direction of Bristol House. It’s slow going because the snow is falling faster than the campus maintenance crews can shovel it, and my boots sink into two feet of it every time I take a step. But the forced leisurely pace allows me to encounter another element of weirdness. When I was dating Garrett, people said hello and waved to me all the time. Today, everyone I pass seems to be going out of their way to avoid me, particularly the guys.
Is this what disgraced Amish people feel like when they’ve been shunned? Because everyone is looking right through me, and I don’t like it.
I also don’t understand it.
As I make my way to the dorms, I decide to give Dexter a call and see if he wants to go out tonight. Maybe to Malone’s—no, wait, Garrett might be there. Another bar in town, then. Or the college rec hall. Anywhere I might be able to meet a guy.
I approach Bristol just as opportunity number two exits the building next door. It’s Justin, and unlike the rest of the world, he actually lifts his hand in a wave.
I wave back, mostly out of relief that someone looks happy to see me.
“Hey, stranger,” he calls, making his way over to me.
He’s sporting that rumpled, rolled-out-of-bed hair, and yet I don’t find it so adorable anymore. It just makes him look like a slob. Or maybe a phony, because I’m pretty sure I can see gel in his hair, which means he must’ve taken the time to create the I-don’t-care style. Which makes him a fucking liar.
I meet him halfway. “Hey. How was your break?”
“Good. Not much rain in Seattle this time of year, so I had to settle for a shit ton of snow instead. Went snowboarding, skiing, hot-tubbing. Fun times.” Justin’s dimples pop out, and they do nothing for me.
But…hell, he’s the only guy who’s so much as looked my way today. Beggars can’t be choosers, right?
“Sounds fun. Um, so—”
Nope.
Nope, nope, nope. Just…nope.
I can’t go there. Not with this guy. Garrett helped me make Justin jealous back in October. I canceled a date with him when I realized I wanted to be with Garrett. And I know how much Garrett dislikes Justin.
There’s no way I can open this Justin door, not just because my feelings for him are non-existent, but because it would be like sticking a knife in Garrett’s chest.
“So hi,” I finish. “Yeah…I just came over to say hi.” I hold up my hot chocolate cup as if it’s somehow a part of this conversation. “I’m going inside to drink this. Good to see you.”
His annoyed voice chills my back. “What the fuck just happened?” he asks.
The guilt pricking at my stomach spurs me to turn around. “I’m sorry,” I say w
A wry smile plays on his lips. “Well, I didn’t want to say it, but…”
I walk back to him, my gloved hands still wrapped around my cup. “I never meant to lead you on,” I admit. “When I said I’d go out with you, I really wanted to at the time. I mean it.” Pain lodges in my throat. “I didn’t expect to fall for him, Justin.”
Now he just looks resigned. “Do people ever expect to fall for someone? I think it just kinda happens.”
“Yeah, I guess so. He…snuck up on me.” I meet his eyes, hoping he can see the genuine regret I’m feeling. “But I was interested in you. I never lied about that.”
“Was, huh?” He sounds sad.
“I’m sorry,” I say again. “I’m…damn it, I’m a mess, and I’m still in love with Garrett, but if you ever want to start over, as friends, I’m one hundred percent on board. We can talk Hemingway sometimes.”
Justin’s lips twitch. “How do you know I like Hemingway?”
I give him a faint smile. “Um. Well, I may have done some recon back when I had a crush on you. See? I wasn’t lying about that.”
Rather than make a cross with his hands and shout Stalker!, he chuckles softly. “Huh. I guess not. That’s good to know, at least.”
After an awkward silence, Justin shoves his hands in his jacket pockets. “All right. I’m up for giving this friend thing a shot. Text me if you ever want to grab coffee sometime.”
He wanders off, and a weight lifts off my chest.
Upstairs in my dorm, I congratulate myself on a potential disaster averted and return to mulling over my mission. Allie doesn’t get back from New York until tomorrow. Stella is out of town, too. When I text Dex, he vetoes a hangout session because he’s cramming for his last exam. When I message Meg, she says she has plans with Jeremy.
Sighing, I scroll through my phone contacts until a name sparks my interest. Actually, the more I think about it, the more I like the idea of making this call.
Allie’s boyfriend picks up after several rings. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Hey. It’s Hannah.”