The next day, I met Jacob at the American-style diner in town.
“So what are you going to do?” I said quietly, longing for the moment that our milkshakes would smack onto the table, and I would have an excuse not to look at him.
“What do you mean?”
I looked him in the eyes. “Well,” I faltered. “What are we – I guess – going to tell Heather?”
“Nothing,” he said, his eyes fixed on a reddish mark on the table. “We can’t tell her anything. What we did was nothing to do with her, it was just our …” I could see him searching his mind for the reason.
“It’s because she’s waiting to have sex for the first time and you’re a guy .” I said, disgusted. “And I’m a whore who is just craving for sex.”
“That’s not true,” he whispered, his eyes now looking directly into mine. “I’ve always had … feelings … for you. Ever since that first time we met, when you went with Dane and I went with Heather. Ever since I saw you sobbing in the street.” He paused, thinking. “I think I love you.”