Page 80 of The Breakup Artists

“What?” she said after a few seconds of silence.

“Nothing. I’ve said it before—I’m always last. You choose me last.”

“Kyle,” she said in a way that I knew meant he was successfully playing on her sympathy. “I don’t choose you last. It’s just that August—”

“Has his friend sleeping over. He’s fine.”

“Yeah, but—”

“But nothing. You’re not his mom, Des. He’s a full-grown teenager, not a baby. You need to stop treating him like one.”

His words instantly pissed me off, mostly because they were true. I knew I relied on Des too much, that she had taken more than her fair share of responsibility these past few years with me, the bills, our mom, all the while juggling her college classes. But who was he to comment on it? I dropped my hand, though, not wanting to prove him right that I was a drain on my sister. For the first time since I could remember, I walked to my room without saying good night.

And what I didn’t know then was that I’d never get the chance to say good night to her again.

“Are you kidding? I always put you first,” Ella says, and the memory of the night I lost my sister spears me right through the heart. I type a fast and furious text to Tiny telling her to get up here because she needs to call Justin out.Now.

“I gave up the school newspaper for cheerleading so we could spend more time together—” Ella continues, but Justin cuts her off.

“Are you serious right now?” Justin says like she’s barely making sense. “Am I supposed to feel guilty for wanting to see my girlfriend? You know football took a ton of my time.”

“Right, and when it’s football, it’s fine. But when it’s my blog or my college—”

For a second, I have a glimmer of hope that she’ll tell him she’s choosing herself.

“Then break up with me,” Justin says like a challenge, and the anger that wells up in me is irrational. That is the lowest way to manipulate someone. I text Tiny again, my fingers pressing hard on the keys.

“If I’m standing in the way of you and some crap school in London,” Justin says, “then let’s call it quits, because I’m not falling in love with someone I’m just going to lose.”

And now he throws in love? What an absolute chump. I can hear Tiny in my head railing about how love means wanting what’s best for someone even when it’s not best for you. I check my texts with Tiny, but there’s no response.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You know I want to be with you.” There’s guilt in Ella’s tone.

“Then prove it,” Justin challenges. “Prove it by staying the night.”

“Justin...” she says, and her voice gets a little farther away, like they’ve moved down the hall, probably toward his room. I have to crack the bathroom door to still hear them. “I want to, just... not tonight.”

“Well, I guess I have my answer then.”

“Hang on,” she says, and I can hear how uncomfortable she is.

“I’m starting to think you’re not who I thought you were,” he says like she’s so disappointing.

I groan. What a line.

“How can you—”

“Choose, Ella. Are you staying here with me or are you walking away?”

For a second, they’re both quiet.

Then he softens his tone and adds, “Look, El, I just want to make this work. Make this work with me?”

My heart sinks, frustration swirling through me like a storm. We agreed that Tiny would intervene between Ella and Justin, but once again I feel like that kid on the other side of the door, stuck in an impossible situation. And I’m not making the same mistake twice.

I check my phone one last time, but there’s nothing from Tiny, and so I open the bathroom door and step into the hallway.

Before I can stop myself, my mouth opens. “Dude, lay off her.”