Page 41 of The Design of Goodbye
“It doesn’t matter. Whatever—”
“Answer the question, Liam.”
“Fine.” His lips curved into the hopes of a smile, which was...Oh no. Oh no,no. It was adorable. “Both.”
chapter sixteen
Thursday morning, I spotted Liam in the school library. With my gaze focused on the floor and cheeks flaming shamefully, I snuck by him. Even though we were the only ones in the library, the last thing I needed was to be caught talking to him. But as I weaved between bookshelves to find a secluded spot, I saw a large bruise on his face and concern compelled me over to him.
He heard me approach and stared at me, like he couldn’t believe I was walking toward him.
“Morning.” His voice cracked. He was tired. I wondered how long he’d been here.
“You fall off your bike again?” I pointed to his right cheek. “We both know what a terrible biker you are.”
“My biking skills are impeccable,” he said. “It’s your driving skills that need practice.”
“It was a tap.” I hesitated before sitting down across from him. “Alighttap.”
“How about we agree to disagree?” His eyes twinkled. I wanted that twinkle to turn into a spark because, somehow, Iknewit would light up the darkness I felt inside.
“That’s no fun.” I pointed to his bruise again. It was dark purple and covered a good portion of his lower jaw and cheek. “It looks painful.”
“It is.”
“Are you going to tell me how it happened?”
He leaned back in his chair and casually answered, “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“That’s extremely vague.”
A one-armed shrug preceded a “Yeah.”
I hadn’t expected him to tell me, but as much as it confused me, I wanted more. I grabbed a party pack of M&M’s out of my backpack, dumped a handful in my mouth, and then held the bag out to him. “Want some?”
“Chocolate for breakfast?” he asked, grabbing a handful.
“It’s been a long week.”
“It has.”
While he turned his attention back to his homework, I ate my chocolate, avoided my phone, and watched him work.
“I don’t mind that you’re here,” he said after a few minutes, “but are you okay?”
I tried to act nonchalant as I said, “What makes you think I’m not?” But my voice was tinged with a sadness I couldn’t escape.
“Because you’re sitting with me in the school library, at seven in the morning, dressed like that.” He pointed his pen at me.
I glanced at my all-black ensemble. Leggings, black booties, and a hoodie. The hood was pulled so far down it touched the rim of my sunglasses and was cinched so I looked like a caterpillar.
“It’s my disguise,” I whispered.
His eyebrows furrowed. “Why do you need a disguise?”
Because Jules had posted the pictures.
It’d taken her eight days, but she’d finally done it on a random Wednesday night. I’d tossed and turned all last night, wondering how I was going to survive school today. The rest of the week.
