A sudden noise brings me back to myself. Someone’s whistling off-key, and heavy footsteps are coming our way. I pull away from Luis, face burning when I realize how far up his shirt my hands have gotten, and the intentional way I’ve twisted the fabric. I was seconds away from yanking it over his head.
Luis’s eyes look drugged until he registers the noise. Then he frowns and disentangles from me, moving toward the door. “What the hell?” he mutters. I hop off the counter, weak-kneed, and try to smooth my hair. A second later Manny bursts into the kitchen, still whistling.
“What up, L?” He holds out his hand for a fist bump that turns into a shoulder punch when Luis doesn’t respond. “Why are you still cooking?”
“I’m making something for Maeve,” Luis says. His voice isn’t nearly as friendly as it usually is when he talks to his brother. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh hey, Maeve.” Manny catches sight of me and waves. “I forgot my gym bag, and it’s got my wallet in it. Damn, that smells good. Did you make extra?”
Luis stares, arms folded, as Manny crosses over to the bubbling pot on the stove and peers inside. “Dude,” Luis says. “Read the room.”
“What?” Manny asks, giving the ajiaco a stir. The timer goes off just then, making me jump. “Is it done?”
“I should go,” I say abruptly. My cheeks are still burning, my head spinning. I can’t believe I just threw myself at Luis after everything that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours. I mean, I can, but still. I’m both a walking cliché and a terrible friend. “Thanks for everything, Luis, but I’m still not hungry and I should probably just…go.”
Manny glances between Luis and me and seems to finally catch on. “Oh hey, no. Stick around. I’m just gonna grab my wallet and head out,” he says, but I’m already through the kitchen door. I pull my laptop bag off the chair where I left it without breaking stride, and head for the exit. I’m probably both a jerk and a wimp for leaving, but it’s too much to process all at once; embarrassment and guilt on top of the sort of intense physical attraction I wasn’t sure I was even capable of until just now. At least I finally know what all the fuss is about.
What all the fuss is about. Oh my God.
The memory hits right as I push through the front door. I’d said that to Bronwyn, when I was telling her about my disastrous night with Knox. “I wasn’t disappointed,” I told her. “Just relieved. The whole time we were kissing, I didn’t feel anything. All I could think was I don’t understand what all the fuss is about.”
I’d said it here. At my usual table, in public. Where anyone could have heard.
I’m an idiot.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Phoebe
Thursday, March 5
Today is shaping up to be a better-than-average day.
For one thing, Emma is sick. It’s not like I’m happy about her being locked in the bathroom puking her guts out, but breakfast is a lot less tense without her glaring at me. Plus, now I have the car and can offer Jules a ride. I’ve been walking to and from school lately to give Emma space, which means Jules has been either taking the bus or getting a ride from Monica. And I miss her.
The second reason today sucks less is this: for the first time in weeks, I feel like the Truth or Dare game isn’t hanging over my head. I know it’s still out there, but not having to worry about it buzzing across my phone is a huge relief. I never realized that out of sight, out of mind could be so powerful. When I get dressed I reach for my favorite skirt, which I haven’t worn for a while because it’s also my shortest skirt, and the familiar swish of fabric around my legs makes me feel more like myself than I have for a while.
“You look nice, honey,” Mom says when I enter the kitchen area. She does too—she’s wearing one of her old sweater dresses paired with chunky jewelry and boots, and I smile when I grab the car keys from their peg beside the door. Mom and I aren’t as similar personality-wise as she and Emma are, but we both use fashion to express ourselves more than anyone else in our family does. If I’m reading Mom’s outfit correctly, she’s feeling more like her old self, too. Which makes a third reason to feel good about today.
When I pick up Jules, she grins at the sight of me in the driver’s seat. “What happened to Miss Stick Up Her Ass?”
I feel a stab of defensiveness for Emma, but I don’t want to argue with Jules when I’ve barely seen her all week. “Stomach virus,” I say.
Jules laughs as she slides into the front seat instead of the back. “Too bad, so sad. I could get used to this.” She flips the radio until it lands on a Beyoncé song, then fastens her seat belt as I pull away from the curb. We sing along for a few verses, and I’m starting to relax into the familiar rhythm of her company until she says, “So, I heard about a thing.”
“What thing?”
“Coach Ruffalo bought a bunch of tickets for one of Cooper Clay’s games at Fullerton. He’s giving them out to anyone at Bayview who wants them. Including recent grads.” She smacks her lips together like she’s about to devour her favorite dessert when I don’t reply. “We should go. I bet you anything Nate will be there.”
“Probably, but…” This time I can’t hold my tongue. “Don’t you think it’s maybe time to give that up?”
Her voice gets cool. “Give what up?”
“It’s just—Nate knows you’re interested, right? You kissed him. He’s a pretty straightforward person, from what I’ve seen. If he wanted to follow up, I think he would’ve by now.” She doesn’t answer, which I hope means she’s considering the point, so I press on. “The thing is, I saw Nate and Bronwyn talking at Café Contigo before you showed up that night and…I think the two of them are the real deal. I don’t think it matters that she’s three thousand miles away. She’s still the one he wants. She’ll probably always be the one he wants.”
“Great,” Jules says flatly. “Thanks for the support.”
“I am being supportive,” I protest. “You’re amazing and you deserve somebody who knows it. Not a guy who’s in love with someone else.”
Jules flips the sun visor down and peers into its mirror, running a finger under each eye to catch microscopic mascara flecks. “Whatever. Maybe I should go for Brandon now that he’s available.”
My stomach lurches as I turn in to the Bayview High parking lot. “Jules. No.” I didn’t tell her about Brandon assaulting me at my apartment, but she has to know he’s the one who put up the sex tutor ad. And she definitely saw him crack up when Sean made fun of me. I can’t believe she’d joke about hooking up with him after that. Or, even worse—not joke.
“Slow down, Phoebe Jeebies, or you’re going to hit that guy.” Jules narrows her eyes at the tall, skinny boy who passes in front of the car. “Oh, never mind, it’s Matthias Schroeder. Go ahead and mow that freak down.” She tucks a strand of pin-straight hair behind her ear; she’s been using a flat iron ever since the night she kissed Nate. “Such a weirdo. He looks like he beats off to erotic Star Wars fanfic, don’t you think?”
I press my brakes, a vein in my temple starting to throb. Jules is punchy today, her teasing skirting the edge of mean in a way it doesn’t usually. I roll down my window and call, “Sorry, Matthias!” He looks startled and darts away. “I try not to think about him, period,” I mutter as I navigate into a parking space.
We get out of the car and head for the back entrance. I drop my keys into my bag as Jules checks her phone. “I thought we’d have another text from Unknown by now,” she says.
I freeze. “What?”
“You know. The next player has been contacted. Tick-tock.”
She grins, and the last of my patience runs out. “I wouldn’t know, because I’m not playing,” I snap, yanking the door open. “That stopped being a super fun game as soon as it made Emma hate me, and it’s only gone downhill from there. But you do you, I guess.”
�
�You need to chill,” Jules says as I stomp into the hallway. I don’t bother telling her to find another ride home. I’m sure she was planning on it anyway.
* * *
—
School is almost over before I run into Knox in person, but I’ve seen the taunts left for him all day. Limp dick pictures are everywhere. The noodles are gone from his locker, but when I pass by it on the way to health class—which is the only class he and I have together—a giant pill bottle with VIAGRA scrawled across the front is duct-taped there instead.
I slow as I approach, feeling a tug in my chest as I watch Knox yank the bottle off and stuff it into his locker. Health class is going to be horrible for him. We’re covering the male reproductive system, which is bad enough on a normal day, but torture on one like this. Especially since Brandon and Sean are both in the class. Impulsively, I walk over and tap Knox on the shoulder. He flinches and turns, and looks relieved when he sees it’s only me.
“Hi,” I say. “Wanna skip?”
His brow furrows. “Huh?”
“Do you want to skip last period?” I dig into my bag and pull out my keys, spinning them on one finger. “I have a car today.”
Knox looks utterly confused. “What do…how does that even work?”
“We leave school instead of going to class, and go someplace fun instead,” I say, enunciating each word slowly. “It’s not rocket science, Knox.”
His eyes dart around the hallway, like we just committed a felony and the authorities are closing in. “Won’t we get in trouble?” he asks.
I shrug. “It’s not a big deal if you aren’t chronic about it. Your parents get a robocall, and you tell them you went to the nurse’s office, but it was really busy and she never checked you in.” I spin the keys faster. “Or, you could just go to health class.”
At this point, I’m kind of hoping he says no. It starts to hit me, as everyone who passes us stares, that I’m going to bring all kinds of shit down on myself by being seen with him today. But then Knox slams his locker door closed and says, “The hell with it. Let’s go.”
No backing out now.
I keep my eyes straight ahead as we walk down the hall, willing myself not to run for the exit. There’s a hushed, urgent voice in my head that sounds a lot like the narrator in a wildlife show I used to watch with my dad: Rapid movement will only draw attention from the hungry pack. Behind us, I hear Brandon hoot about something, but we’re too far away for it to be us. I think. Still, I’m relieved when we push through the doors of the back stairwell.
“Welcome to your life of crime,” I say to Knox as we exit the building into a light sprinkling of rain. His eyes widen, and I roll mine. “It’s not an actual crime, Knox. Have you seriously never skipped a class before?”
“No,” he admits as we descend the stairs. “I’ve gotten the perfect attendance award for two years running.” He grimaces. “I have no idea why I just told you that. Pretend I didn’t.” There’s a faint clanging noise ahead of us, and we both pause as someone jumps over the back fence behind the parking lot. I recognize Matthias Schroeder’s tall frame and pale-blue hoodie just before he lopes into the woods behind school. Looks like we’re not the only ones skipping health class. It’s a nightmare for nerdy guys everywhere.
When we reach the car, Knox pulls on the handle like he’s expecting it to be open, but our Corolla’s power locks failed years ago. I unlock my door, climb into the driver’s seat, and reach over to let him in. “So, where are we going?” he asks.
I hadn’t really thought that far ahead. I start the engine and turn on the windshield wipers against what’s now a steady rain. “Well, it’s not very nice out, so we can forget about the beach or a park,” I say, navigating for the exit. “We could drive to San Diego if you want. There’s this coffee shop I like that has live music some afternoons. The only thing is—” I’m so busy talking that I don’t notice I’m about to pull into the main road while a car is passing, and I have to slam the brakes to avoid it. Knox and I both lurch forward against our seat belts, hard. “I don’t drive all that much, and I’m kind of bad in traffic. And rain. So we could go to Epoch Coffee in the mall instead.”
“Epoch Coffee is good,” Knox says, massaging his shoulder.
We lapse into silence, and I feel a lightning-quick flash of rage for us both. It’s bullshit that I’m getting shamed for having sex, and Knox is getting shamed for not having it. Meanwhile nobody’s attacking Derek or Maeve, even though they did the exact same things we did. Or didn’t do. People like to think they’re open-minded, but if you toss a tired gender stereotype in their path they’ll run with it every time. I don’t understand why the world insists on stuffing kids into boxes we never asked for, and then gets mad when we won’t stay there.
If I start ranting about that, though, I’ll never stop. And I’m pretty sure Knox needs a different kind of distraction right now. So I talk all the way to the Bayview Mall about whatever comes to mind: TV shows, music, my job, my brother. “He wants you to come over,” I tell Knox as we pull into the mall parking lot. It’s full on such a rainy day, but I get lucky when a Jeep pulls out from a front-row spot right when I’m cruising past. “Apparently you made quite an impression.”
“Bounty Wars fans are a tight-knit bunch,” Knox says. I take the Jeep’s spot and cut the engine, frowning at the downpour outside my window. We’re as close as we can get to the mall entrance, but we’re still going to get soaked before we make it inside. Knox unclips his seat belt and reaches for his backpack, then straightens and looks at me full-on for the first time since we got into the car. His brown eyes have nice gold flecks in them, which I file away in my Knox Is Going to Be Hot One Day mental folder. “Thanks for doing this.”
“No problem.” I open my door and duck my head against the rain, but it only hits me for a few seconds before Knox is suddenly at my side, holding an umbrella over both our heads. I grin up at him. “Wow, you’re prepared.”
He smiles back, and I’m glad I rescued him from the fiery pits of health class hell. “Former Boy Scout,” he says as we head for the entrance. “If we need to build a fire later, I can do that too.”
Once we get to Epoch Coffee, we snag a prime corner table. Knox offers to get our drinks, and I pull out my phone while I wait for him to get back. I haven’t been on Instagram since deleting all the gross comments last week, and I check it now to see if going private has kept the trolls away. It has, for the most part, although I have a bunch of new message requests. Most are from guys I don’t know, except one.
Derekculpepper01 Hey, I don’t mean
I frown at my screen and click the full message. Hey, I don’t mean to be a pain in your ass or anything, but I’d really like to talk to you. Can you text me? Or call if you’d rather.
“No, dickhead, I can’t,” I say out loud as Knox returns to the table.
He freezes halfway to handing me my drink. “What?”
“Not you,” I say, accepting the iced coffee. “Thank you.” I hesitate before explaining further, but then I figure, what the hell. Nothing distracts you from your own problems like hearing about somebody else’s. “So, you know that whole Truth or Dare drama with me and my sister, right? Well, the ex-boyfriend in question keeps messaging me and I don’t know why. I don’t care, either, but it’s annoying. He’s annoying.”
“Social media sucks,” Knox says. He’s dumped a small mountain of sugar packets onto the table and grabs three, tearing them open together. His shoulders hunch as he stirs them into whatever he’s drinking. “I haven’t been on since—a while. I can’t deal.”
“Good,” I say. “Stay away. I hope you’ve blocked Unknown’s number, too.”
“I have,” Knox says grimly. He’s starting to look miserable again, so I quickly change the subject, and for the next hour we talk about everything but the texting game. Every once in a while, I wonder i
f I should bring up Maeve, but—no. Too soon.
When Knox glances at his phone and announces that he has to leave for work, I’m surprised at how fast the time went by. I have to leave too; I’m supposed to be helping Addy and Maeve put together Ashton’s wedding favors this afternoon.
I use a stray napkin to wipe the iced coffee condensation rings from our table and pick up my almost-empty drink. “Do you want a ride?” I ask, following Knox out of Epoch Coffee and into the main mall thoroughfare.
“Well, it’s in San Diego.” Knox looks nervous, like he’s remembering every near-fender-bender from the ride over. To be fair, there were a lot for a mile-and-a-half drive. “That’s pretty far out of your way.” We reach the mall exit and push through the doors. It’s still overcast, but the rain has stopped. “I’ll just take the bus.” He glances at his watch. “There’s one leaving in ten minutes. If I cut through the construction site behind the mall, I can make it.”
“Okay, well—” A familiar giggle stops me, and I turn to see Jules crossing the parking lot with Monica Hill. They’re walking at an angle, toward the side of the mall instead of the front door. When they’re a few feet away from us, Jules notices me and stops short. She grabs onto Monica’s arm to make her stop, too.
“Heyyy,” Jules says, with about half her usual enthusiasm. “What are you doing here?” Her eyes flick toward Knox and widen. Monica suppresses a laugh and whispers something in Jules’s ear.
I can feel my cheeks turning beet red. I hate that I’m embarrassed to be seen with Knox in front of Jules and Monica, especially after we had such a good time hanging out. But I am. “Just getting coffee,” I say.
“So are we,” Jules says, even though they’re obviously not headed for Epoch Coffee. “Too bad we missed you.”
One of Us Is Next Page 14
