Be My Girlfriend

69

Jo's P.O.V.

Two days. Two long, endless days of silence.

I hadn't answered a single call from Brittany. Not one. I ignored every text, every little ding that told me she was trying to reach me. She probably called Reese too—I didn't care. I had to disappear.

So I did. I checked into a small, run-down motel on the edge of town. It wasn't much, but it was hidden. No one would find me here—not Brittany, not anyone. The room smelled faintly of old carpet and stale air, but it was mine. Mine to cry in, mine to be alone in.

And alone I was.

I hadn't eaten much. I barely slept. Every time my mind went quiet, Brittany's voice invaded it, laughing, teasing, kissing me like she had two days ago, like nothing had changed. Her smile flashed across my memory, bright and full of life. I remembered the way her fingers brushed mine that last afternoon at school, the way she whispered my name when she thought I wasn't listening. I remembered the warmth of her body pressed against mine, the softness of her lips, the way she said I love you.

And it tore me apart.

Because now... now I didn't know what any of it meant.

I sat on the edge of the motel bed, staring at the floor, staring at the walls. My hands twisted my shirt, gripping it tight, wishing it could hold all the hurt inside me. I had wanted to trust her. I had wanted to believe that all the late nights, all the laughter, all the loving moments we shared were real. But they weren't. Or at least... not in the way I thought.

The voice of Gizelle, her laughter, the recording of Brittany saying she would make me fall in love and then leave—it played over and over in my head.

For that Thompson to fall for me then I'll leave her hanging and ruined. 

Every word burned. Every syllable tore at my chest.

I remembered sitting with Reese the night I told her everything. My hands were shaking as I spoke, my chest tight.

"Reese... she... she doesn't love me," I whispered, the tears finally coming. "It was all a lie. She was just... just planning to hurt me."

Reese didn't say anything at first. She just let me cry, let me get it all out. And then, she put a hand on my shoulder, soft but firm.

"Jo," she said gently, "it wasn't your fault. None of this. There's nobody to blame but her. Nobody made you fall in love. You didn't do anything wrong. You can't control what someone else chooses to do."

I had wanted to believe her words then, but the pain was too sharp. The anger too raw. How could someone I loved—someone I trusted—be capable of something so cruel? How could Brittany play with my heart like it was a game?

Now, sitting in this motel room, staring at the crumpled sheets, I could feel that anger growing again. It simmered in my chest, hot and heavy. I wanted to scream. I wanted to shake the world and make her feel a fraction of the hurt she caused me.

The graduation gown lay on the bed next to me. The navy blue fabric seemed heavy, almost suffocating. My speech, neatly typed and printed, rested on the nightstand. I hadn't opened it yet. I didn't want to read the words that would tell the whole school my story, my thoughts, my gratitude. Everything felt empty. The words felt meaningless. How could I stand there and speak of hope and future when everything I believed in had just been ripped away?

I traced the folds of the gown with my fingers, thinking of Brittany's hands, her fingers, her smile. Thinking of all the small things I loved about her, the moments that had felt real and warm, that now felt like a cruel joke.

I remembered the way she had whispered I love you while brushing my hair back, the way she had held me close, the softness in her voice when she said she wanted to be with me in New Jersey. That future we had dreamed about... all of it seemed to mock me now.

I could feel the tears starting again, hot and bitter. I wanted to hate Brittany, and I did—but I also hated that I still loved her, even knowing the truth. Even knowing that she had lied, planned, and hurt me intentionally.

Reese's words came back to me, steady and grounding. It wasn't your fault. Nobody made you fall in love.

I clenched my fists, feeling that mix of hurt and anger swirl inside me. She was the only one to blame. Nobody else. Not me, not Hailey, not anyone. Just Brittany. And the truth was, that realization didn't make me feel better—it made me furious.

I thought of the last week, of her videos, her texts, her pictures from Italy. I remembered smiling at them, feeling happy even though I was alone. Even then, a tiny part of me had held onto hope, had whispered that maybe she really cared. That maybe all of it wasn't true.

But now, with Gizelle's words echoing in my mind, that hope felt like ash in my hands.

I buried my face in the pillows and let myself cry, letting all the sorrow, the anger, the heartbreak spill out. I wanted to scream her name until my voice broke. I wanted to punch something, break something, just to release the fury I couldn't put into words.

When the crying subsided, I lay there, staring at the ceiling, shaking slightly. My speech still sat on the nightstand. My gown still lay on the bed. Graduation is today and I had no idea if I could even stand there in front of everyone, smile, and say the words I had worked so hard to write.

I thought about Reese again. About her sitting there, listening to me, letting me cry, telling me that it wasn't my fault. She had been right. It was Brittany. Just Brittany.

But knowing that, feeling that anger, didn't make it any easier.

I wanted to scream at the world. I wanted to yell at Brittany. I wanted to let her feel even a fraction of what I was feeling. And then, after that, I wanted to vanish. To run far away and never look back.

I rolled over, staring at the gown again, tracing the fabric with my fingertips. I could feel the weight of it, the weight of what today would bring. The ceremony, the smiles, the speeches—it all felt like a cruel performance I had to endure.

The gown smelled faintly of the school's storage room, of fabric softener, and something faintly familiar, like old uniforms. I held it against my chest for a moment, imagining Brittany in her own gown, imagining all the moments we had shared, all the kisses, all the laughter.

And then I thought about Gizelle's final words, the reminder that it had been Hailey, the plan, the betrayal. My chest tightened, and a single, furious thought ran through my mind: I will never forget this.

The anger mixed with the sadness made my hands shake. I wanted to let it swallow me whole. But I also knew I couldn't. I had to stand up. I had to graduate. I had to finish what I had started, even if my heart felt like it had been torn out.

I sat on the edge of the bed, holding my knees to my chest. The motel room was silent, the kind of silence that presses down on you until your thoughts are deafening. I wanted to call someone, anyone, but I couldn't. Not Reese—she had already helped enough. Not Brittany—definitely not her.

So I stayed there, staring at my gown, staring at the speech, staring at everything I had worked for, and everything Brittany had stolen from me, and let the fury and hurt coalesce into something sharp, something I could hold onto.

I wasn't ready to forgive. I wasn't ready to smile. I wasn't ready to believe in anyone again.

But I had to get through today.

Because graduation wouldn't wait.

And neither could I.

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