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“Jessica’s here to see you,” Declan says, a smug smile on his face. “She’s waiting on the porch.”
Jessica? What the hell? I look at Henley. She’s chewing on the inside of her cheek again. “Tell her I’m bus—”
“No,” Henley says, heading for the door. “I told you, I have to go home anyway,” She snags her bag off my chair, swinging it onto her shoulder and just like I predicted, the strap broke, sending books in every direction. She stands there for a few seconds, busted bag clenched in her hand, mouth open in an O so perfect it would’ve been funny if not for the look of utter mortification on her face.
“Let me help,” I stand and cross the room, but she’s shaking her head, kneeling to drag books and papers across the floor, gathering them into a precarious stack.
“No,” she says, shoving papers back into her binder. “You go ahead, I’ll just—”
“Your guests are waiting,” Declan pipes up from the doorway, drawing my attention.
“Fuck. Off.” I say through my teeth, kicking the door shut in his face. I can hear him laughing, the sound of it growing faint as he moves down the hall to his own room.
As soon as he’s gone, I crouch down next to her, gathering a few errant papers while she lifts her stack of books into her arms, seeing the papers in my hand, she lets go of her books long enough to snatch them from me, refusing to meet my eyes. “Henley, please look at me.”
She shakes her head, struggling to stand. “It’s fine,” she says. “I’m just going to go home so you can—” She stops short and looks up at me. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says before she pushes her way past me and it halfway down the stairs before I can catch up with her.
When I do, she’s struggling to get the front door open, unable to turn the knob in her hand because her arms are full of books. I just stand there and watch her struggle until finally she stops and lets out a sigh.
Through the glass panels set in the door, I can see Jessica Renfro, sitting on the porch railing with one of her friends. Long, tan legs, swinging back and forth. Straight, shiny hair. Clothes that were bought just for them. Shoes that fit. I know Henley can see them, same as me. I know what she thinks.
That I invited them. Want them here.
She’s wrong.
“Will you please open the door for me?” she says quietly without looking at me.
“No.”
“Conner, please.” She reaches for the knob herself, trying to get it open on her own. I push her hand away and cover it with my hand. She glares at my fingers. “I need to leave.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Not until you look at me.”
She sighs, sliding her gaze toward mine but it slides right past me. Through me, like I’m make of glass.
“I don’t know why she’s here,” I tell her shaking my head.
She sighs again, offering me a brittle smile. “Yes you do,” she says, holding my gaze for a few moments before looking away completely. “Now open the door.”
She stands there quietly, arms full of books, face still, waiting for me to open the door for her. As soon as I do, she does what I’ve been afraid of for weeks.
She bolts.