Montana and Natasha were inseparable. Until the day they weren't.
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Montana Belmonte-Rowe sees her acceptance into Harvard as a fresh start. Still haunted by the tragic death of...
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EPILOGUE
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"I THINK YOU DID THE RIGHT THING," Bishop confesses, through Skype, and all I can do is shake my head, pulling my knees close to my chest. My door is closed, even if we're just talking, but I'd rather not have Ma and Aurelia eavesdropping in my conversations with my friends or with Bishop, knowing very well they're looking for any warning signs.
There aren't any warning signs. I've been avoiding Natasha since the two of us came back to New Jersey for the summer, despite knowing she'll fly to meet up with Jeremy in a few days (word quickly got out), but it's not like her presence here particularly bothers me. I'm more concerned about how we're not going to make things awkward by the time we go back to Massachusetts, but, as of right now, I couldn't care less.
Ma thinks I do, arguing there's no way I've possibly gotten over her this quickly, as it's only been two weeks since I burst into Natasha's dorm room to go yell at her, and I haven't, not really, but it would be a lot easier to do if people could stop reminding me of it. I still fear that I was too harsh, that I lost the right to be right I had when I decided to raise my voice and say some awful things to her, but the general opinion is that I was still right by the end of it all.
"I shouldn't have yelled," I say, pinching my nose bridge. "It's not like she gave a damn about anything I told her and yelling at her certainly didn't help strengthen my point; when it ended, I think we were both too angry to think clearly and I seriously doubt my words have had any effect on her."
