Chapter 2
I couldn't even remember how I got home.
I moved through the day in a daze, my heart squeezed tight in a fist until my chest ached, and my mouth went dry and numb.
Curtis got home later than me.
When he saw me, his face lit up with joy. Then, like he was offering me a rare gift, he handed me a crushed strawberry cake.
"Kaylee, I'm sorry. I was in such a rush delivering food that the cake got all messed up. I really can't afford to get another one. Please don't be mad at me," Curtis said.
Curtis always knew how to put on a pitiful face.
And every time, my heart would ache for him. I'd pull him into a hug, telling him to stop working and focus on school. I'd promise to keep dancing so he could stay in school.
It was all a lie.
I was nothing but a failure who couldn't even land a lead dancer role. I had no right to take responsibility for someone else's life.
I had been so arrogant.
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I wiped them away before speaking. "Curtis, how did you know there was cake there today?"
He had texted me: [You deserve everything anyone else has.]
That line should have given him away. Now that I knew the truth, I looked back and saw a hundred holes in his lies.
Love really did make me blind.
Curtis avoided my gaze, looking nervous and uneasy.
"Babe, I read online that afterparties always have cake. Do you think the cake is too small? I'll throw it away right now," he said.
I always used to stop him at moments like this.
But this time, I just stood there.
Curtis took a step toward the door, waiting for me to call him back. When I didn't, he turned and walked back to me.
"I'm sorry. I can't even afford a cake. We should break up. I don't want to drag you down anymore," Curtis said.
He never got tired of this little routine.
First, he played the victim.
Then he pretended he was about to leave, just to make me chase after him.
Finally, he threatened to break up with me.
How had I let him wrap me around his finger for so long?
I had been so pathetic.
I sighed and nodded. "Fine, Curtis. Let's break up."
Curtis went crazy.
He rushed over, trying to kiss me.
I dodged him.
He bit me instead, like a wounded animal, tears dripping down onto my skin.
He was icy all over, as if he could freeze me.
I stared at him calmly and said, "Where's the jacket I gave you? It's freezing out. Why aren't you wearing it?"
Curtis's eyes flashed with panic for a moment.
"The jacket got dirty, so I sent it out to get cleaned. Kaylee, please don't be mad at me. It was my fault. I shouldn't have said that. Can we not break up, please?" he begged.
A sharp, insistent ringtone cut through the tension between us.
It was an unknown number, no name attached.
Curtis declined the call. "Probably just some customer. Forget about her."
"Are you sure?" I asked, and right then, the phone buzzed again.
"They're calling this many times. It must be important. Aren't you scared of getting a complaint?" I continued.
Curtis broke out in a cold sweat on his forehead.
To keep me from getting suspicious, he picked up the call.
Before the caller could say anything, he yelled into the phone, "So what if the soup spilled? What do you want from me? Fine, just file a complaint if that's what you want."
"Put it on speaker," I ordered, my face expressionless.
His hand shook so hard that he hit end call instead of speaker.
The other side never called back.
Curtis gave me that pleading puppy-dog look. "Kaylee."
He reached out to touch my face, and I pulled away.
I stared him down. "So you can't afford a new cake, but you somehow have money to get your jacket dry cleaned?"
His eyes showed a hint of panic.
Curtis grabbed my hand and said, "Kaylee, the water's freezing. I can't stand the thought of you washing my clothes in that cold."
Our washing machine was busted.
Curtis kept saying he'd get me a new one, but I couldn't bear to let him waste money on me. So with the weather freezing, I had to do laundry in icy water.
Once, I had gotten a terrible cramp in my stomach halfway through a load.
After that, Curtis had refused to let me touch cold water ever again.
Come to think of it, I had never actually seen him do laundry.
I had caught a whiff of a new perfume on his clothes lately, one that wasn't from our apartment. I guessed he had been taking his clothes to the dry cleaners.
Of course he had. He was a rich boy.
Like he'd never actually wash clothes in cold water for me.
The phone buzzed again.
Curtis looked panicked. He said he had to deal with a customer issue, then fled out the door.
Not long after, I saw a post from June on her social media.
She was wearing the jacket I had given Curtis.
The two of them were speeding through the wind on a motorcycle.
Her long hair whipped around, her smile wild and confident as she clung tightly to his waist.
It was a live photo.
I could hear Curtis's low, grumpy voice.
"Helmet on. Hold tight," he muttered.
It was freezing out.
And they were riding a motorcycle up the mountain to watch the sunrise.
That was the kind of romance only rich people could afford.
I curled up under the covers and called my mom. "That guy you were talking about. I'll marry him."