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I had to fight every muscle in my body not to chase her down.
But she was right. I didn’t choose her. I chose a friendship I cherished.
And hurt her in the process.
SEVENTEEN
Rule numberone when running to a room to stew in feelings: bring your phone.
I failed rule number one.
Since the power was back on, I wanted to talk to Winnie. Her advice would more than likely be to send Alden and Nick down a cliff with no brakes, but hearing her voice would help.
But my phone was still powered off in the living room and all I had were my thoughts.
My mind oscillated from understanding why Alden did what he did to being furious that he didn’t choose me.
On the one hand, I knew that if I were in the same position with Winnie, I would have picked her.
On the other hand, Winnie never would have fucking asked me to choose in the first place.
My conflicting feelings, mixed with my own self-doubts, added to my terrible mood. What if I’d been different—would he have chosen me? What could I have done to make him want me?
Could I have been a different person?
That was the worst part of it all. My doubts were far worse now.
I wanted him to want me. All of me.
But he chose someone else.
I laid in Amma’s bed for who knows how long, going over everything I’d learned with a fine-tooth comb. I didn’t know what to feel, only that I wasn’t happy with how things turned out.
I didn’t realize that I’d fallen asleep until my eyes shot open and it was night outside. Hours had passed, and I didn’t feel any better about what had happened.
For a while, I sat in the darkness, wishing I could go back to sleep and forget it all for a little longer. But then, a knock at the door interrupted my train of thought.
“What?” I asked. “I don’t want to talk if that’s what you’re about to ask.”
“Okay,” he replied. “But I made you food.”
That got my attention. After stewing all day, I needed something in my stomach. My mind was on all the delicious things he could have made, but when I cracked the door, I only saw soup.
“Seriously?”
“Sorry, it’s all we have.”
“I’ll make it work,” I said as I grabbed the bowl and shut the door.
I heard him sigh on the other side of it.
“You can’t be mad that I want to be alone,” I told him.
“I’m not mad at you.”
“You’re not happy about something.”
“I’m mad that I made the choice I did, but not at you for reacting to it.”