“We’re not.” Everyone thinks we’re together. We both thought we’d end up together eventually. “We’re just friends. And Ryan…” I sigh. “I don’t know how I feel about him. He’s confusing.”
“They all are,” she says with a nod. “You can talk about it if you want. I won’t tell anyone.”
I’m not comfortable telling Amanda anything about Ryan and Dustin yet. And half my problem is I don’t know what to say, how to explain all the stupid, insane things I’ve done these last few weeks. I have no excuses and I don’t want Amanda to hate me for what I’ve done. “We should go. Maybe?” I squint my eyes and peer at her. “Or are you drunk?”
“Jordan’s kiss and this conversation sobered me up completely,” Amanda says firmly.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to ask you to drive me home and then you get a DUI or whatever.” That would be awful. I don’t want to put her at risk.
“I’m good. I promise.” She starts the ignition. “Let’s get out of here before we both do something stupid and go back inside that house.”
I laugh. “Good idea.”
We’re just pulling out of the driveway when I get a text from an unfamiliar number.
Did you leave? Where did you go?
Frowning, I reply:
Who is this?
“Isn’t that Dustin?” Amanda asks.
I look up from my phone to see Dustin standing in front of his Jeep, talking with someone. More like yelling at someone.
It’s freaking Em. And she’s yelling at him too.
“My life has turned into a bad TV movie,” I mutter under my breath. “Like Lifetime on steroids.”
Amanda bursts out laughing. “No joke.” Her laughter dies. “Do you think they’re fighting about you?”
I glance down at my phone when I see the text reply.
It’s Ryan.
I miss you. We didn’t spend enough time together tonight.
What happened in the bathroom earlier was a disaster.
I should’ve never brought up Em.
“I doubt it,” I say as we drive past them and Amanda guides the car onto the road. “I’m sure they’ve already forgotten about me.” Maybe.
Maybe not.
I decide to answer Ryan’s texts.
You just brought up Em again.
His reply is immediate.
Sorry.
Forgive me?
Talk to you later?
Smiling, I tap out a quick response.
Okay. :)
I waste most of my Saturday sleeping, which pisses Mom off. Not that I care. I have a raging hangover that only sleep, four ibuprofen and two bottles of water can finally ease.
Mom forces me out of bed around three, demanding that I do my laundry and help clean up around the house. I start my laundry and clean my bathroom before hopping into the shower. The hot water feels good and I soak under the spray longer than usual, and the bathroom is completely steamed up by the time I finish. Mom hates it when I take long showers.
Lately it feels like she hates pretty much everything I do.
I’m sneaking back into my room wrapped only in a towel, my hair falling against my back and dripping wet when I collide with freaking Fitch in the hallway.
Like full on run into him so hard my boobs bounce against his chest.
“Oh my God!” I practically shriek. My shrill voice makes Fitch jump about a mile.
He grabs hold of my upper arms, his fingers squeezing into my flesh. “Jesus, Olivia. You scared the hell out of me.”
“Let me go,” I demand, unable to pull out of his grip for fear my towel will slide off and show him everything. I’m completely naked and Mom’s boyfriend is way too close. And he’s actually touching me.
I’m trying my best not to completely freak out.
“What are you doing?” His gaze skims the length of my body and it’s not necessarily creepy, but it’s not on the up and up either.
As in I think Fitch just checked me out.
“What do you think? I just got out of the shower.” I pull away and his hands fall to his sides, his expression a little dumbfounded. What, hasn’t he seen a teenage girl in a towel before?
Probably not.
“Where’s Mom?”
“She ran to the supermarket.” He runs a hand over his very short brown hair and I flatten myself against the hallway wall, edging closer to my open bedroom door.
Weird. I swear I closed it before I went into the bathroom.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Fitch says when I remain quiet.
I meet his gaze, my fingers curled around the edge of my bedroom doorframe. I’m close to making my escape and I can’t wait to get away from him. “It’s okay,” I say shakily.
“We don’t need to tell your mom about our little—run in, do we?” He smiles nervously. “Maybe it can be our little secret.”
“Sure,” I say as I slip backward into my bedroom and practically slam the door in his face.
Sagging against the door, I lock it as quietly as possible so it’s not obvious and I glance around my room, checking to see if anything out of place.
But it doesn’t. Everything looks exactly the same and I tell myself I’m just being paranoid. Maybe I did leave my bedroom door open. Why would Fitch want to search my room anyway? There’s nothing interesting in here for him.
I frown. Well, there is that tiny baggie of weed I have buried deep in my underwear drawer. Oh, and then there is my underwear drawer. Fitch has never given me a creeptastic vibe before, but I don’t know him that well. They started dating before I left for the summer yet Mom never brought him around.
Now she’s leaving him at the house with me while she goes shopping.
I don’t like it.
With a sigh I push away from the door and go to my dresser, grabbing clothes to change into, which I do hurriedly. I wrap the towel around my head and grab my phone, checking to see if I have any messages, and I’m all sorts of excited to see that I do.
One is from Amanda.
Do you have a hangover?
Another is from…Ryan.
What are you doing tonight?
My heart skips a giddy beat. Amanda’s text came in ten minutes ago, Ryan’s almost fifteen. I decide to answer Amanda first to prolong the anticipation.
I’m better now. Slept most of the day and just took a shower.
Amanda’s reply is immediate.
I had to get up early to go do a family thing. I’m in bed now. I feel like a zombie.
Poor Amanda.
Have you heard from Tuttle?
OMG no!!!!! Why would you even think that???!!!!???
Lots of exclamation points and question marks—Amanda’s being a little over the top.
Well, he did kiss you…
I’m deleting these texts! I told you I don’t want anyone to know what happened last night.
Okay. Chill. This is just between you and me.
Right. Someone will find these texts and then I’m ruined. No way. *delete delete*
She’s even more dramatic than I thought.
A secret isn’t a secret when more than one person knows about it.
Amanda doesn’t reply, and I guess I can’t blame her. Mom told me that a long time ago, warning me that’s what makes secrets so dangerous.
Following Amanda’s wishes, I delete any and all texts that mention Tuttle and then I respond to Ryan.
I think I’m stuck at home tonight. :(
It’s like he’s sitting on his phone, he responds so quickly.
On a Saturday night? Harsh.
My mom got mad at me when I tried to sleep most of today.
You should’ve stayed the night with me at Tuttle’s.
Are you still there?
Nah. But I did stay the night.
You could’ve been cozy in the guest bedroom with me.
My face is on fire and all he’s doing is telling me we could’ve slept together.
Though come on. We
wouldn’t have just slept together. Something else would’ve happened. Something I might not be ready for.
But then again, maybe I am.
Sounds like I missed out.
You did. But you can have your chance again with me.
More like you should be asking if YOU deserve another chance with ME, after what you said last night.
He doesn’t reply, and I grab the brush on top of my dresser, parting my hair in the middle and then running the brush through it again and again until it’s sleek and straight. It’s easiest for me to braid it when it’s still wet and I twist one side into a French braid and then the other side before Ryan finally responds.
Let me make it up to you.
I bite my lip, thinking of all the ways he could do exactly that.
How?
Go out with me tonight.
Where?
It’s a surprise.
The door leading out to the garage slams and I lift my head, listening for Mom’s voice. I hear it, along with Fitch’s, and I wonder if she’ll let me go.
I can almost guarantee she won’t. She’ll want to play happy family tonight and it’s going to suck. I’d rather be stuck in my room doing homework than hang out with them.
Unfortunately, I have no homework.
“Livvy! Come help me unload the groceries!” Mom calls, and I grimace.
Why can’t stupid Fitch help her out?
Grabbing my phone, I send Ryan a quick text before I go help her.
Sorry. I’m in prison tonight. Probably for the rest of the weekend. But I’ll see you Monday, okay?
Not waiting for his reply, I go to the kitchen to help Mom.
“You were with Em last night, right?” Mom asked just after we sit down to eat dinner.
I pause in bringing the fork to my mouth, then slowly set it down on my plate. It’s best that I don’t totally lie because she’s on friendly terms with Em’s parents and she could find out with a simple phone call if I was with her or not. “Um, no. I was with Amanda, remember?”
She frowns, sending a quick glance at Fitch before looking at me. “Who’s Amanda? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you mention her before.”
“We’ve been hanging out lately,” I explain before I shovel food in my mouth. Fitch barbecued steaks and I have to admit, they’re pretty delicious.
“What did you do?”
“Oh, we went to miniature golf.” No one I know goes to miniature golf anymore, but what else could I say? If I told her a movie, she’d ask which one and then want details. Plus, she was at the movies herself just last night.
No way could I tell her the truth. Hearing I went to a giant party at Jordan Tuttle’s house would make her lose her shit.
Mom’s face brightens. “How fun! But what’s going on with you and Em? You haven’t talked about her all week.”
I chance a look at Fitch, who’s acting completely oblivious as he eats everything on his plate. “It’s…complicated. Can we talk about it later?” I don’t want to share my best friend troubles with Mom’s boyfriend. He doesn’t need to know my private business despite the fact he almost saw me naked.
I’m still a little mortified by that.
“Oh.” Mom looks surprised. “Well, maybe tomorrow you can tell me what’s going on.”
I offer a weak smile. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”
We finish eating and I help clean up the kitchen like usual. Mom slips outside to talk with Fitch and I can hear her giggle through the partially open window above the sink. Hear the sound of lips connecting and her gently chastising him for who knows what.
Best if I don’t know at all.
The kitchen is clean by the time it’s dark outside and I’m dying to leave. Mom and Fitch are cozied up on the sectional couch in the living room, scrolling through the Netflix menu together and trying to decide if they want to watch a comedy or an action film.
“You should come join us, Livvy,” Mom calls from the living room.
I’m lingering in the kitchen, contemplating if I should reach out to Ryan again or not. I don’t want to seem like I’m trying too hard. Or being too pushy. He worried me after saying last night I should be chill and not be the overbearing friend.
I need to back off. But I don’t want him to forget that I exist.
“I’m not in the mood for a movie,” I tell her before I dash off to my bedroom to grab my phone. I purposely left it in my room so I wouldn’t be tempted to look at it. When we have these ridiculous family dinners she gets mad if I keep checking my phone and has threatened to take it away more than once.
I can’t risk losing it, so I stash it away and pray I don’t miss anything major.
Of course Ryan texted. And of course he’s saying exactly what I want to hear.
I don’t think I can wait until Monday.
I want to see you tonight.
Livvy? Where are you?
Playing hard to get?
I’m cruising around the neighborhood if you want to come with.
The last message is time stamped less than five minutes ago. My fingers fly over the keyboard as I send him a message.
Are you still in the neighborhood?
A few minutes pass and I chew on my thumbnail, afraid I missed my opportunity. But then he replies and I practically start to bounce.
I’m right outside your house if you wanna come see.
Without thought I stash my phone in the back pocket of my tiny denim shorts and race through the house. My hair is in braids, I have no makeup on and my outfit is sort of lame, but I don’t care.
I stop near the living room and say, “I’m going out.”
Mom nudges Fitch in the ribs and he pauses the movie they just started. “Where? And with who?”
“With a…friend. And I don’t know. We’re just going to hang out around the neighborhood.” I shrug, glance at the front door. I need to go. Get out of here before Ryan gives up and leaves.
“What friend? Don’t be sketchy with me, young lady, or else I won’t let you go at all.”
I blow out an exasperated breath. “His name is Ryan. He moved into the neighborhood over the summer. He’s friends with Dustin.” That last bit I added is a complete lie, but I’m trying to make her feel better.
“Oh. How is Dustin? He hasn’t been by much either lately,” Mom says.
“Mom, can I go?” I’m jittery with impatience. And I think Fitch can see it. He reaches out and touches Mom’s arm.
“Let her go. It’s early yet,” he says.
I hope he realizes I’m giving him a mental high five. “I promise I’ll be back by midnight.”
“Ten.”
I roll my eyes. It’s already a little past eight. That’s less than two hours with Ryan. “Eleven.”
Mom sighs. “Fine. Eleven. And when you go out with this boy again, I want to meet him.”
“Okay, okay,” I tell her, hoping like crazy we do go out again but not really wanting Ryan to meet my mom.
“Be careful. Make sure your phone’s charged.”
“It is,” I yell as I make my way to the front door.
Mom’s biggest fear is if she can’t get a hold of me. I hate that she can keep tabs but love that I can call someone if I need to be rescued.
I open the door to find his car parked in front of my house. I can hear the low rumble of the engine, the dark-tinted windows obscuring Ryan from my view, and I tell my heart, my entire body to calm the flip down.
This is no big deal. Just the two of us. Alone. Together. I can handle it. I can play it cool. If Em can be with this guy, then so can I.
I think of her, a disgusted look on her face. Of her saying I’m taking her sloppy seconds. I can literally hear those words come out of her mouth and I…
Hate them. Because they feel true.
What am I doing?
Pushing all thoughts of sloppy seconds and Em out of my head, I walk calmly across the lawn toward Ryan’s car. The passenger-side window slides down and there he is, bending
over to peer out at me, a cute smile curving his too perfect lips.
“Hey. So you made it after all,” he says when I reach the passenger door.
“I did.” I lean down so our faces are level. My smile can barely be contained. “I broke out of jail.”
“Then it’s my lucky night.” He flicks his chin at me in that wholly masculine way boys do. “Get in.”
I open the door and slide into the passenger seat, Ryan’s clean, citrusy scent wrapping all around me once I shut the door. It’s like the world ceases to exist when we’re in his car. “Where are we going?”
“A surprise. Remember?” Grinning, he guns the engine and we tear off down the street, into the dark, dark night.
After Ryan pulls his car into a church parking lot and we share a joint, he takes me to Sonic to get milkshakes. Sonic is like a kitschy drive-in and they have delicious ice cream and slushy drinks, though I’m not big on their food. Of course, since we smoked that joint we both agree that we’re starving and pretty much anything sounds good.
We park and are discussing milkshake options when Cannon Whittaker approaches the car and chats up Ryan. Cannon is another senior football player on the varsity team, a big hulking mass of muscle with dark blonde hair and a baby face that’s oddly out of place with his giant man body.
“Who you here with?” Ryan asks him, and Cannon mentions some girl’s name I don’t recognize. Waves a nonchalant hand in her direction and I crane my neck to check her out. A petite yet busty girl with long, straight platinum blonde hair is sitting on the tailgate of his tricked out silver truck, sending Cannon a pouty look that she believes will entice him, no doubt.