“Aren't you going to say you're sorry? Don't you have some excuse why you didn't hear your phone?”
“Uh—well, I turned my ringer off? That's why I didn't hear it, anyway.”
My eyes bulged. “Why'd you do that? I told you I'd call you when I needed a ride home.”
“I dunno. I guess I figured, hey—you want to be so independent. So right on, girl. Live your life. Find your own way home.”
Stunned, my jaw dropped. “Are you saying you left me out thereon purpose?To teach me a lesson?”
“No, I just sort of …”
“Ignoredme intentionally.”
“Yeah. I guess.” Todd shrugged. “Hey, you found your way home, didn't you?”
“Yeah. I did. Thanks to Hunter Rockwell.”
Todd's eyes suddenly narrowed with rage. “Wait,what? The—the hockey player? The one you have acrushon?”
“Yup! Same one, Todd. Thanks to you.”
His nostrils flared. “Wow. See—see, this is exactly why I didn't want you to try out for that job. You're there foronenight,justauditioningfor the job, and you're already turning into a jersey-chasing wh—” Todd bit his tongue before he could finish saying it.
My voice dropped an octave. “What were you going to say?”
“Nothing.” Todd rolled his eyes. “A jersey-chaser, I guess.”
“I amnota jersey-chaser. And I am certainlynota whore, which is what you were about to say.”
Todd didn't deny it. I ran to our bedroom. I didn't know what the future held with Todd, but I knew I couldn't stay here tonight.
Todd followed me into the bedroom, snickering in the doorway as I frantically stuffed clothes into a bag.
“Okay, Honor. Calm down. Think this through. And, realize, that this never would've happened, if you hadn't done something I specifically asked you not to do.”
“Oh my God,” I laughed. “You just keep digging your hole deeper! It's like you've been on a mission to say and do the wrong thing for a week.”
“Yourode in a car with Hunter Rockwell! What ifIpicked up one of those puck sluts, or whatever they're called, and gavethema ride home? I mean, how am I supposed to ever trust you again?”
“Puck sluts,” I grumbled. “So now I'm a jersey-chasing whoreanda puck slut. Whatever that means. You know what? You don't have to worry about trusting me anymore.”
“What'sthatsupposed to mean?”
“It means we're over, Todd. I can't do this anymore! Moving out here with you wassucha mistake.”
“Fine, Honor! Run on home to Mommy and Daddy and all your big brothers, then!” Todd taunted as I rushed past him, bag in hand. “Send 'em my regards!”
I slammed the apartment door and called a cab.
***
I checked myself into a $30 a day hotel and called Derek.
“Hey butthead!” he answered.
It was always our 'inside joke' that we insulted each other in greeting.
“Hey Derek,” I answered with a sniffle—and he knew immediately something wasn't right.
