Page 128 of Play For Me

“No,” I say without hesitation.

“Sol,” she starts, but I cut her off.

“I’m not doing that, Em. Drop it.”

“But you’re depressed,” she says. “Like,reallydepressed. I’ve never seen you like this.”

I snort. “I’m always like this.”

“No, you’re not,” she says firmly. “You have rough patches, or whatever you want to call it, but you get through them. They don’t linger the way this is. Things have never gotten bad enough that you stop doing classwork.” She reaches across the table but I jerk my hand away, ignoring the way she winces at my reaction. “This isn’t just about a shitty run-in with your dad. This is about her.”

I grit my teeth, trying to fight down the anger that has been so close to the surface all this week. “I thought you’d be happy, “I snap. “You never liked that I was with her.”

She stares at me, aghast. “You think I’d be happy that you ended things with someone you so clearly are in love with? You think I’d be happy to see youheartbroken?” Her voice is getting higher and higher with each question. “You think I’d be happy that you let your parents get so in your head that you don’t think you deserve someone to love you?”

“Emery—”

“I was worried about you when you started seeing her,” she says, ignoring my interruption. “Because I didn’t think it was serious for her, and I knew how that could hurt you. But that was before I actually saw you together. It was before I saw her give you those earplugs at the concert so it wouldn’t be too loud. It was before I talked to her at that bar and she told me that she trusted you to take care of yourself.”

I blink at her. “She said that?”

She doesn’t answer, clearly on a roll now. “It was before I realized that she was in love with you, too, Sol.”

“She’s not,” I say automatically. I’ve had to repeat it to myself a bunch of times this week. My brain keeps wanting to go back and relive the moment when she’d said those words to me after my dad left.I’m in love with you, Solomon. But no matter how many times I replay them, I can’t force myself to believe that they’re true.

They can’t be true.

“Sheis,” Em says, her voice lower now, more gentle. “And I hate that you think you don’t deserve her.”

“Because I don’t.” The words scrape at my throat.

“That’s not true, Sol,” Jay says, his voice sharp. “And that kind of thinking is exactly the type of thing a therapist could help you with.”

“I don’t need a fucking therapist,” I snap, loud enough that a few heads turn in our direction. Great. The heat of embarrassment rushes through me, the same way it always has when I draw attention to myself for being such a fuck-up.

“Well, I do,” Jay says evenly.

It takes a second for his words to sink in and I stare at him. “You do what?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Need a therapist. I’ve been seeing someone for the past few months.”

I gape at him, completely shocked. “Why?”

He rolls his eyes. “I don’t know, Sol. Maybe ’cause my dad took off before I was even born? Maybe ’cause my mom cared more about her boyfriends and her parties and her lavish trips than she ever did about taking care of me?”

I have no idea what to say to him. “Jay…”

“It’s not a big deal, okay?” he says, looking uncomfortable now. “But that party at the Ransome’s place…I had a really good time with CeCe’s teammate, Kia. We talked all night and she gave me her number.” He looks pained. “And then I never called her. I looked at her contact in my phone about a hundred times for the next two weeks before I deleted it.” His expression hardens. “And the next night I hooked up with some girl whose name I don’t even remember.”

Em makes a disgusted noise and Jay shrugs at her. “I know it’s fucked up. That’s the whole point. I do shit like this all the time. I chase the wrong girls and avoid the ones I actually like.” He rubs a hand over his face. “And I started thinking maybe there’s a reason for that. So, I went to the student health center and asked to talk to someone.”

I shake my head, at a loss. “You never told me this.”

He snorts, looking a little pissed now. “I can’t imagine why.”

Something stirs in my chest. “You think I would have been an asshole?”

“I don’t know.” He holds my gaze. “Are you judging me right now, Solomon?”