Part 22 (1/2)

”Kate?”

”The one that dropped you off?”

I nod.

”It's nice, the way you are together. We were never like that, were we?”

Something hard and sharp solidifies in my heart. ”No,” I say. ”We weren't.” She's lonely. Of course. Years of pus.h.i.+ng people sideways, of manipulation and seduction and worthless, s.e.xy gestures-a wink, a lick-then what? Who's left now? ”Why'd we stop talking?” I ask.

Her face falls. She crosses her ankles and clasps her hands like someone so virtuous and good. ”I stopped liking you.”

I swallow my shock. My belly-instantly rigid.

”You just-you let me do things to you,” she continues. ”Everything was always so easy. You were like a boy-super agreeable and pa.s.sive and doting.”

She's right. I let her lead, always. She told me who to like and what to wear and how to play.

”I stopped respecting you.” Her voice trembles a bit. Her mouth settles into a straight, unreadable line. ”I wanted something, I dunno, mutual, I guess? And what we had? Nothing was ever even.”

”So . . .” I see it now-all her faulty, f.u.c.ked-up logic. ”That was a test, that kiss? You were testing me?”

She rolls her bottom lip between her pointer finger and thumb. ”I don't know.”

”Sure you do.” It's her party trick. Seduce anyone! Your teacher, your bandmate, your best friend. ”Anyone's f.u.c.kable, right?”

She glares back. ”Right.”

I stand up, hot with fury. ”You're insane.”

”No, I'm right.”

”About what?”

”All anyone wants? Is to have their pretty, precious ego stroked.” She's standing now. ”No one wants anything real.”

”That's stupid.”

”It's true.”

”You? You're not real.”

”Right. No, I know. I'm the fantasy.”

”You set traps.”

”Yes! I do! And you all always fail.”

I sit down, hands on head. Take three slow breaths. Pat my hair. ”I wanted you to like me.” My voice breaks. ”You never seemed like you liked me.”

”I did.”

”Oh yeah? What'd you like about me?”

She laughs. ”Can't remember.”

I turn away, toward the wall. ”I remember what I liked about you.”

”Oh yeah?”

”Yeah.”

”Well?”

”You were fun. For a while.” I cluck my tongue. ”You were really, really fun.”

She's quiet for a bit. ”You think I don't see anyone but myself.”

I shrug.

Then, softly, as if whispering to a puppy or a child, ”Hey, turn around.” She touches my shoulder. ”Hey, come on. I won't bite.”

I don't believe her. I twist forward.

”People like me for the wrong reasons.”

”Meaning?” I say, my patience waning.

She sighs heavily. ”They want to screw me. Or know me. They like my music. They like the way I look.” Her voice is flat. ”My songs, my clothes-none of that's me.”

I consider this. Recognize it. Me in Dakota's dresses, smoking her cigarettes, wearing her eyeliner. Lee wanting me. Me hating him for it. ”I get it,” I say, because suddenly, unexpectedly, I do.

Dakota slouches, relaxing slightly.

”But you make it that way, you know that, right? You invite it,” I say. ”You don't get to-” I stop, searching for the right a.n.a.logy. ”-put up a sign selling fruit”-lame-”then get p.i.s.sed when people want to buy apples off you.”

She blinks. Picks up the remote. Puts it back down. ”I guess,” she says softly, and the mood lifts a little. ”How'd you meet Kate?”

”Ceramics. Soph.o.m.ore year. She and Lee-they were kind of, like, a package deal.”

She looks at me. ”Where's Lee now?”

”We broke up.”

”Right, Julian.”

”Nothing's happening with Julian-”