“No! I swear it.”

   Silence. The only sound is their heavy breathing.

   “Why her?”

   “Come on, Micky. You don’t want to hear this shit. Let’s just go to prom and have a good time, okay?” He has an accent—Texan, I think.

   “Why her?” she asks again.

   He sighs, defeated. “Remember that away game a couple years back, when the team stayed overnight to support the cheerleaders at some tournament they were doing the next day?”

   “The one I couldn’t go to with you, because my dad was out of town and my mom and sister were sick?” she asks quietly, looking at the floor.

   He nods. “Yeah, that’s the one, Micky. It was so stupid. We just . . . There was alcohol, and she wanted me, and I didn’t think. Well, I did, but not with my head.”

   “And all the times after? God, how many times were there?”

   He flinches at the question. “I’m sorry, baby.”

   “Don’t call me that!”

   “I’m sorry, Micky,” he sighs. “She just—I don’t know. She always wanted me, and it was always so easy.”

   “What?” she asks quietly. Then fire burns in her eyes. “What?” she says, louder. “You’re going to put this on me? At what stage did you think that I didn’t want you? I gave it up to you whenever you wanted! I never said no to you, ever! I wasn’t easy enough? Because we had to sneak around and wait for parents or brothers or sisters to not be around, or go to hotel rooms or our cars? Because she lived next door, and her mom was never home? That’s why it was easy? What the fuck, James?”

   She takes a deep breath and then her eyes go wide. “Oh my God . . . Did you use protection? I mean, she’s been with a lot of guys—a lot. And that’s only the ones I know about. I didn’t even consider the ones she didn’t . . .” She trails off. “James . . . ?”

   “I always used a condom with her, always. I know I’m an asshole, but I knew she got around, and with you . . . Since you’ve always been on the pill, and we never needed to use protection, I didn’t want to risk it. Babe, you have to—”

   “You mean you didn’t want to get caught?”

   “Mikayla, I’m so sorry.” He sighs. He at least has the decency to sound sincere. “Do you think you’ll ever be able to forgive me? I mean, we had plans to go to college together. We planned our future togeth—”

   “Oh my God!” she gasps, panic written all over her face. “Who was your first, James?”

   He flinches. It’s a small movement, but we both catch it.

   “Our first time. At the hotel on my birthday. That wasn’t your first time, was it?”

    This guy just brought asshole to a whole new level.

   “God, you faked it all, and the lies . . . I must be so fucking stupid!” she cries.

   They’re silent for what seems like the longest time. He must sense that nothing he says is going to make this any better.

   A sob escapes her, and he moves forward to comfort her. I do everything I can to stay still. He holds her while she sobs in his arms. After a minute, she rears back from his embrace and pushes him away.

   “Was I not good enough in bed? Is that what it was? Did I do it wrong?” She sounds so sad now. “If you didn’t want to be with me, you could have just broken up with me, James. You didn’t have to cheat on me, over and over again with my best friend. You could’ve just told me you didn’t want to be with me anymore, and you could’ve had all the girls in the world. It didn’t have to be like this.” She looks up at him and whispers, “You didn’t have to break my heart.”

   My chest tightens at her words. Tears are falling freely down both their faces.

   She squares her shoulders and lifts her chin. “You need to go, James. I can’t stand to even look at you right now.”

   “Mikayla, please,” he begs.

   “Please, James. Just go,” she pleads.

   He actually listens and walks away, passing in front of where I’ve been standing, unable to move.

   I watch as she leans against the wall and, slowly, her body gives up. She slumps, sliding to the ground. Her body breaks into silent sobs, her arms shielding her head from the world.

    She has no idea I’m still standing here. I need to do something. I need to comfort her, to make sure she’s going to be okay. Or maybe I should just go out there and kick that guy’s ass.

   I step out of the bathroom and into the hallway.

   Then I clear my throat.

   She looks up, startled.

   “Holy shit, accent boy! How much of that did you see?”

THREE

MIKAYLA

   I can’t believe accent boy just witnessed that whole thing. I’m so frickin’ embarrassed by all of it, mainly because I was the dumb girl who got played for so long.

   “So, that just happened, huh?”

   He has this deep voice that doesn’t belong to a teenage boy. It sounds like a rugged, middle-aged man’s or something. He motions his head to the spot on the floor next to me. I nod once, not looking at him.

   “So. Your boyfriend’s an asshole, and your best friend’s a selfish whore,” he says, taking a seat next to me.

   I can’t help but laugh. “That pretty much covers it.” I sniff.

   “I’m Jake, by the way.” He nudges my side with his elbow as he looks straight ahead. He’s taken his dress shirt off. The beer obviously ruined it. I don’t even know what my dress looks like—I never got the chance to check. I look down at the satin material.

   “Mikayla,” I say to the dress.

   “Yeah, I figured that out.”

   We sit in silence for a few moments, then he clears his throat. It might be a nervous habit. I don’t know. He clears it again, so I look to my left, at his profile. He senses my gaze and turns to look at me.

   It’s the first time I see him properly, and he’s extremely handsome in a masculine, not boyish, way—like he could grow five inches of facial hair overnight. He smiles at me then quickly looks away.

   I was staring. Shit.

   “So,” he starts, “you’re all dressed up and nowhere to go, huh?” Where is that accent from?

   “Yeah, I guess so. Hey, um, where are you from?” I have to know.

   He’s confused for a second. “Oh, my accent? It’s Australian, but I’m actually from here. It’s a long story.”