“I totally agree,” I say with an enthusiastic nod. This is what I want. A serious conversation about sex. “Who cares if we’re having sex, right? We’re practically adults. We should be able to do whatever we want.”
“Yeah!” Livvy throws her arms into the air like she’s cheering at a football game. “So you’re ready to just do it with Tuttle then? Get it over with? Liberate yourself?”
My heart trips over itself just hearing Livvy say that, and all my righteous enthusiasm disappears. I swallow hard, fighting the nerves battling it out in my stomach. “Maybe?”
“Maybe’s not a real answer,” Livvy teases, wagging her finger at me. “What happened to your sexual liberation of two seconds ago? You go from wanting to send nudes and having sex with your hot boy to…maybe?”
Yeah, where did it go? One mention of doing it with Jordan and I quietly panic. “I guess it’s one thing to talk about it, and another to actually do it?” When she sends me a stern look, all I can do is shrug.
But come on. What’s the real problem here? Do I not trust Tuttle like Livvy doesn’t trust Ryan?
Well. Livvy doesn’t seem to trust Ryan whatsoever. I do trust Jordan with some things, but not…everything. Like my heart. He’s broken it once already, yet I keep going back for more. After a while he’s got to think he has me no matter what.
Will he take advantage of my weaknesses? Will he keep hurting me because he knows he can’t lose me? How much more can I take?
Am I already setting us up to fail?
“You should come with me to the quad for lunch,” Livvy suggests as we walk down the hall after fourth period, headed for our lockers. It’s lunchtime on Monday and the idea of sitting in the quad with all the popular people kind of makes me nauseous.
“Will Lauren Mancini be there?”
“Yes, only because she’s hanging around Eli all the time and he can’t leave campus.” That’s a senior privilege only, and considering she’s dating a freshman…she’s stuck. Unless she wants to sneak him off campus in her car. I wouldn’t put it past her to try it.
“No thanks.” I pick up speed as we draw closer to our lockers. “I’m going to the library. I need to catch up on reading anyway.”
“I really don’t want to be there alone,” Livvy admits just before she goes to her locker and starts to open it, her back to me as she speaks. “Please come with me, Amanda. I need you.”
I dump a few books into my locker and shut it before going to stand next to Livvy. She sends me a quick glance, her expression sad, and I swear she almost looks ready to cry.
“Hey.” I touch her shoulder. “Are you okay?”
She offers up a little shrug before she shuts her locker door and turns to face me with glassy eyes. “Not really. It’s weird right now. Everything feels so strange.”
“What exactly do you mean?”
“I mean, I don’t think I want to be with Ryan anymore.” She drops her voice extra low and it trembles. “The two of us together, we’re a total mistake. It won’t work. Like, ever. All we do is fight. I’m irritated with him all the time, and I think he feels the same way about me. Our relationship is pointless. I want out.”
“Oh, Livvy.” My heart aches for her. I hate that she’s hurting so much. I hate that she wants to break up with him. I know they’ve had their ups and downs, but I didn’t think it was this bad.
“I want to be with Dustin.” She clamps her lips shut and I swear her eyes well up with tears. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“Do what?”
“Fake that I’m happy with Ryan. I’m not.” Now the mascara-tinged tears slide down her cheeks and I can’t help myself. I pull her into my arms for a big hug, holding her close while she cries into my shoulder, getting my sweater wet.
“Forget the quad,” I tell her as I smooth my hand up and down her back. “Come with me to the library.”
“No way,” she says, her voice muffled against my shoulder. “I know you see Em in there a lot. I do not want to deal with her right now.”
They’re still circling each other, and I doubt their friendship will ever be the same. “Fine, then let’s go off campus together and we’ll go out to eat. You brought your mom’s car today, right?”
“No. She needed it because she has an early shift.” Livvy pulls away, furiously wiping at the tears streaking her cheeks. “We’re stuck here.”
“No, we’re not.” I pull my phone out and impulsively send Jordan a quick text. I have no idea what his answer is going to be, but I’m hoping it’s yes.
Can I borrow your car?
His response is quick.
Are you freaking serious?
Yes, I’m serious. I need to take Livvy to lunch somewhere off campus.
I can drive you both.
I’d rather take her alone. She really needs to talk about some stuff.
He doesn’t respond, and my stomach twists with nerves.
“Who are you texting?” Livvy asks, and I hold up a finger to silence her.
“Hold on, I’ll tell you in a minute. Let me work on this.” I stare at my phone screen, willing him to text me back but so far, nothing.
“Maybe we can sit in one of the study rooms,” Livvy suggests. “No one goes in those during lunch.”
“Please, people use them at lunch all the time,” I tell her, my gaze locked on my phone. Ugh, I’m going to be so frustrated if Jordan doesn’t respond soon. I really want to do this for Livvy. It would mean a lot to her, and to me.
“What do you mean?”
I glance up and meet Livvy’s gaze. “I mean that I’ve caught a few people in those rooms at lunch or after school hooking up.”
Livvy’s mouth drops open. “Are you serious? Really?”
“Yes. Really.” I nod and check my phone yet again, relieved to see he’s texting me. “It’s the perfect place to hook up privately. The teachers never check those rooms as long as you’re quiet.”
I remember the first time I discovered a couple making out in one of those private study rooms. I’d been a freshman, and I think they were seniors. The girl sat on the guy’s lap, straddling him, her legs spread and tiptoes poised on the floor, his hands on her breasts, their mouths fused until I opened the door. Their lips broke apart and she glared at me, reaching for the table. When she tossed a book at me, I ducked while the guy threw back his head and laughed.
My fourteen-year-old mind had been blown.
“Hmm.” There’s a glimmer in Livvy’s eyes as she grabs her phone and starts doing some texting of her own. An uneasy feeling slithers down my spine as I watch her when my phone buzzes in my hand.
I never let anyone borrow my car. Ever.
But I’ll let you take it.
Because I trust you.
Not to wreck it.
So don’t.
Wreck.
It.
A little smile curls my lips. This feels like a big deal.
“Okay, I have plans,” Livvy announces, making me look up at her with a frown. “I really appreciate your help, Amanda. Like, really. But I’m good now. I’ve got it handled.”
I raise a brow. This is suspicious. “Who are your plans with?”
“Um.” She nibbles on her lower lip and takes a step closer to whisper in my ear, “You gave me a good idea with the private room thing in the library. So, uh, Dustin is meeting me in one in five minutes.” She checks her phone. “Make that four. I gotta go.”
“Livvy.” I grab her arm before she can leave. “What are you doing? If Ryan catches you, he’s going to be furious. What if someone sees you two together and tells him? Is that how you want him to find out about you and Dustin—sneaking around?”
“I don’t want him to find out anything, so I really hope no one tells him.” She sends me a pointed look and I’m offended. Does she truly believe I’d rat her out to Ryan? What the hell is wrong with her? “Guess it’s the risk I have to take, though,” she says, her tone flippant. “Dustin needs to talk to me. Privately.
” She extracts herself from my grip and without another word, she’s gone.
My phone buzzes again and I check it.
I’m out in the parking lot. Meet me at my car and we can go over a few things before you take it.
Growling beneath my breath, I stalk down the hall and push through the double doors that lead outside. I can’t believe Livvy’s going to meet Dustin in the library and do…what? Make out? Or worse? She’s freaking crazy. And she’s still with Ryan, so she’s basically cheating. I despise cheaters, especially after what Thad and Tara did to me. I don’t want to think less of Livvy, but she’s not giving me much choice.
This sucks.
I’m walking through the senior parking lot when I spot Jordan standing near his black Range Rover, leaning against its side. He’s wearing a white Henley shirt, his arms crossed and his biceps bulging beneath the long sleeves. The breeze ruffles his dark hair across his forehead and he stares off into the distance, every inch the troubled, broody boy that he is.
He looks so freaking good, I’m momentarily distracted by him. I stop and stare, my lips parted, my breath becoming shallow. It’s still hard for me to believe that this guy, this gorgeous, sweet, annoying, smart, strong, wonderful, awful boy likes me. That he might even care about me.
“Hey.” His deep baritone knocks me from my daze, and I head over, stopping just in front of him. “Where’s Livvy?”
“She made last minute plans. With someone else.” I don’t say anything else. Livvy’s secret isn’t mine to tell, and I’m afraid if I start talking about it, I’ll get really pissed. So I leave it alone. “Guess I don’t need to drive your car after all, but thank you for offering. I sense it was huge deal.”
“It is,” he agrees, tipping his head toward me. “But you’re worth it.”
Oh. He says things like that and I’m left speechless.
“You don’t have any plans?”
“No.” I shake my head, feeling tongue-tied.
Jordan grabs my hand, lacing our fingers and giving them a squeeze. “Then let’s go to lunch together.”
“Don’t you want to stay here?” He usually does. He’s always out at the quad, holding court over his loyal subjects. I used to sit out there with him, with all of them, just basking in his presence. But once we had the so-called breakup of our so-called relationship, I stopped going. One, because I couldn’t stand to be near him knowing he wasn’t mine anymore. Besides, most everyone who would hang out with Tuttle is annoying. Frustrating. Awful.
All of the above.
“No, not if I can sneak off campus somewhere with you.” He tugs me closer, his expression serious, his voice low. “Let me treat you to lunch, Amanda.”
When he talks to me like that, looks at me like that, I tend to give in easily.
“Okay,” I say softly, a jolt pulsing through me when he runs his thumb over the top of my hand. Sometimes the simplest touch has the most devastating effect. “Where do you want to go?”
“Whatever you want.”
“The Corner Bakery Café?” It’s my new favorite restaurant, though I don’t get to go very often.
He makes a face. “You like that place?”
“It’s delicious.” I take another step closer, so I’m practically invading his personal space. He doesn’t seem to mind. “Have you eaten there since it opened?”
“Once. With my mother.” That face he just made? Now it looks worse. “Not the most pleasant experience.”
I’m starting to think every experience with his mother is the furthest thing from pleasant. “Well, take me there instead and we can make it a better experience.” I grin at him, unable to stop myself.
He smiles and drops a kiss on my lips. Then another, this one longer, and with the slightest bit of tongue. I rest my hand on his chest, my fingers curling into the soft fabric of his shirt. His free arm circles around my waist, and I swear I hear someone yell his name, but I ignore them. I’m too in shock that he’s kissing me in the parking lot while everyone walks by, so I’m not arguing.
I like it.
“Jordan Tuttle! Get your hands off that girl right now! I’m writing you up for PDA!”
Jordan leaps away from me and we both turn to find the vice principal, Mrs. Maddox, glaring at us, her arms crossed in front of her ample chest, her mouth set in a firm line. Every so often the PDA police—as we all like to call them—roam the campus and scream at couples for putting on overt public displays of affection. It’s freaking ridiculous, how strict they are.
What makes it worse? We’re getting yelled at for an innocent kiss while Livvy and Dustin are most likely hooking up in the freaking library.
“Sorry, Mrs. Maddox,” I tell the vice principal, who’s glaring at us with disgust, hating how shaky my voice sounds. I never get in trouble, like ever. This is a huge deal for me.
Mrs. Maddox’s face falls, disappointment shining in her eyes. “Amanda Winters? Is that you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say miserably.
She looks at me, then over at Jordan before her gaze returns to mine. “The both of you, in my office. Now.”
“Are you serious? But we’re going to lunch,” Jordan starts, but she silences him with a look.
“You’re going nowhere,” she says firmly, her bright fuchsia lips forming a thin line. She’s older, probably in her late fifties or early sixties, and she’s super grumpy most of the time, even with the good kids.
“But Mrs. Maddox—” Jordan starts again, and she shakes her head, cutting him off with just a look.
“Trust me. You’re only making it worse.” Mrs. Maddox starts walking. “Follow me. And no talking to each other,” she calls over her shoulder.
We both fall into line behind her, Jordan sending me a secret, slightly irritated look before he lets me walk ahead of him. Jordan’s annoyed, but I’m terrified. What if Mrs. Maddox calls my parents? I’ll never hear the end of it, especially if she tells them what I’m in trouble for.
All three of us walk back into school, Mrs. Maddox taking us to her office. She points at the two chairs across from her desk as she settles into her seat, the stern look on her face telling me that she means business.
“I am so incredibly disappointed that the two of you are in my office right now,” she starts out, her shrewd gaze sliding to mine. “Especially you, Amanda.”
I duck my head, my cheeks hot with shame. If she’s trying to make me feel like absolute crap, it’s working.
“You both sign the student code of conduct every single year while you attend this school, so you should know the rules, especially now that you’re seniors. Public displays of affection are strictly against school code, especially—kissing on campus,” she continues.
I am going to die of embarrassment.
“What’s the punishment?” Jordan asks, sounding bored. I chance a glance at him, noting how he’s slouched in his chair, his expression a combination of arrogance and annoyance. It’s like he doesn’t give a crap if he’s disrespecting Mrs. Maddox.
“Excuse me?” By the look on Mrs. Maddox’s face, she is not amused.
“I asked, what is the punishment.” Jordan leans forward, his gaze intent as he stares at her. “You can skip the lecture. Just tell us what you want us to do.”
“A week’s detention,” Mrs. Maddox snaps, anger flashing in her eyes. “For one hour, right after school, starting today.”
“A week?” I gasp.
“I have practice,” Jordan says easily, like she won’t challenge him. “Can’t make it.”
“You can and you will,” Mrs. Maddox says as she pulls a pink pad of paper out of the top drawer of her desk and starts filling out the detention slip. “I won’t tolerate your rude attitude toward me, Tuttle. You must adhere to the rules just like everyone else in this school. You’re not a special snowflake.”
If it was any other time I would totally laugh over her special snowflake comment, but I keep my head bent so I don’t have to look at either of them. It’s easier
this way.
“But we have the regional championship coming up.” He sounds the slightest bit panicked and I lift my head, hating how worried he looks. That worried expression is gone in an instant, though, and replaced with anger. “I can’t miss practice. Coach Halsey is gonna have a coronary.”
“That’s not my problem. And you should’ve thought of that before you accosted Amanda Winters in the senior parking lot.” Mrs. Maddox scrawls her signature across the detention form before she tears the paper off and hands it to him. “You may go, Jordan.”
Oh. Someone else who calls him Jordan. Surprising.
He rises to his feet, crumpling the detention slip in his hand. “What about Amanda?”
“I’m going to talk to her for a few more minutes.” She sends him a pointed look when he doesn’t budge. “Alone.”
Jordan looks over at me. “I’ll wait in the hall for you.”
And then he’s gone, the door shutting behind him with a loud slam, making Mrs. Maddox wince and me flinch.
We sit quietly for a moment, the only sound the scratch of her pen across the pink detention slip as she fills it out. She tears the slip off the pad and hands it over to me. I take it, hating how my hands shake.
“Amanda.” Her voice is much more pleasant now, though that tinge of disappointment is still there. “What are you doing?”
I frown. “What do you mean? You know what I was doing. That’s why you’re writing me up for a PDA vio—”
“Not that,” she interrupts with a brisk shake of her head. “What are you doing with Jordan Tuttle?”
“Oh.” How is this any of her business? I don’t have to answer her, do I? “We’re, uh, friends.”
“Really.” Her voice is flat. She doesn’t believe me, but I don’t know how else to describe us. “Is that what you call what I witnessed just a few moments ago? A friendly kiss?”