Only If She Stayed

19. Changing Times

I SOUNDED LIKE an accusing girlfriend. I wasn't Michael's girlfriend—I was no longer anyone's girlfriend—but I was his best friend. I felt like I had the right to know given that he had lied in the first place. If he hadn't hidden the truth, I wouldn't have felt so blindsided.

What was the point in lying? We all went to the same school. It wasn't like he could've hidden it for long. Why should he feel embarrassed to tell me? Was he embarrassed? He didn't look to be shameful.

"It slipped my mind." Michael took off his seatbelt.

"No, it didn't. I asked you and you said –quite confidently—that you didn't get her number. I remember the conversation." I also took off my seatbelt, slinging my backpack on. "You didn't have to lie. I don't care."

But I did.

I didn't see what he saw in her. It wasn't like she resembled me. We were opposites. She was a bottle-blonde. It was obvious from how dark her roots were and how much of a separation there was between the blonde and brown. The hair looked almost orange where the two colors met, which was from a bad dye job that forgot to tone the hair. Having little to no experience with changing my hair color, even I knew that toning the hair was a step that couldn't be skipped.

"It's not that important. She's a friend."

"A friend you hid." I remarked. "You can tell me anything, Michael."

"I know I can."

"Right now, it doesn't feel like you do."

"You're making this out to be something bigger than it actually is," he hissed. "We exchanged numbers. So what? What's the big deal?"

"Lying. That's the big deal."

"Oh, and you've never lied to me?" he huffed sarcastically.

"Of course, you're turning the tables and pinning this on me when the topic is about you. This isn't about me."

Where was this attitude coming from? Ever since we came back from winter break, Michael had this type of annoyance directed at me, and only me. Yes, we kissed during my temporary split with Edgar last year, but that didn't constitute him to be a major jerk all of a sudden. We were best friend. Weren't we?

Someone appeared at the window, tapping the glass. It was the blonde vixen herself, annoyingly knocking on Michael's side of the car like an impatient child. Couldn't she see we were having a talk?

"Hey!" she chirped.

My body went ridged.

Don't be mean. She didn't do anything to you, I advised myself. Yet.

She sidestepped to give Michael enough access to leap out of the car. She became glued to him, hugging him hello. I was on the brink of saying something snappy to her, but I settled with a harmless eye roll. I got out the car and carried on with my day.

I had to hold dance try-outs today. If she meant anything to Michael, he would've told me about her...wouldn't he have? I told him everything.

"Rose!" I heard someone from ahead of me scream. I didn't look up right away.

A cold shudder ran down my spine.

"Rose!"

Briefly, I gazed up at the person. Fortunately, it wasn't Edgar. Ashton stood at the student porch, leaning on a pillar. "What's up?"

"Oh, hey, Ashton." I mustered a faux smile and coaxed my voice to sound elated at his appearance. Sweeping a look over my shoulder, I linked eyes with Michael and looped my arm with Ashton at the same time. When I checked Ashton to see how he'd react, his brows shot up but he didn't move away from me. He stayed in place.