Livin' La Vida Bennet

by Mary Strand

“I don’t, actually.” I’d also have to look up the lyrics the moment I got home. “Tell me?”

  He studied his Dilly, which was now bare of its red shell. “The whole thing about reading your mind. I’ll bet no one has ever read your mind, even if half the guys you know think they can.”

  My jaw dropped.

  He waved his Dilly in the air. Luckily, it hadn’t yet melted enough to fly off the stick. “I don’t mean it that way. I just—”

  He took a bite of his ice cream.

  I didn’t touch mine.

  He pointed at my Dilly Bar. “It’s going to melt. Didn’t you want a Dilly?”

  No, but I picked it up anyway. Peeled off the wrapper. Took a tiny bite. Swallowed. Managed to keep it down. Barely.

  “Look.”

  I didn’t. Not at him, anyway.

  “Lydia.”

  I still didn’t.

  All around me, a gazillion pint-sized soccer players were whooping it up, squealing and laughing. I glanced at my Dilly, then set it down on the wrapper and stood up. “Thanks, really, but I’m kind of in the mood to walk home, and it’s still decently light out.”

  It wasn’t, actually, but I’d call Liz the moment I walked outside and beg her for a ride. If I had to, I’d even beg Dad.

  Zach grabbed my hand.

  I glanced down at it, at him, coldly, waiting for him to let me go.

  “The thing is—” Nope, he wasn’t letting go. “Every guy thinks he owns you. Or wants you. That’s why I got pissed tonight. At Drew, at Kirk, even Michael.”

  I snorted. “Michael has never even looked at me, but you’re tired of crap like that? Welcome to my world.”

  He tugged on my hand, gently, until I finally sat down.

  Totally against my will.

  “I heard what happened to you.” Zach finally let go of my hand, leaving it cold. In more ways than one. “I’m sorry.”

  Just like that, eating the Dilly Bar seemed like a good idea. It might keep me from shoving it in Zach’s face.

  “Yeah?” I aimed for blasé, which felt even harder than my D chord. “In Milwaukee? Old news.”

  Even if it still felt fresh, and horrifying, to me.

  “No.” Zach waited until I met his gaze before continuing. Let’s just say it took a while. “When you were a freshman. After the homecoming game.”

  My breath caught in my throat. Tiny black splotches danced before my eyes. Waving them away, I looked out the window, as far away from Zach as I could without my head spinning on my neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Anyway, I’m sorry.” Zach took several licks of his cherry-coating-bare Dilly, then a bite. Another bite. A huge one. “If I’d heard at the time, I would’ve done something, even though I was just a sophomore.”

  “You didn’t know me.”

  I sucked a big gulp of my Coke, choking on it until a tween boy behind me shrieked that I was choking to death and several hands—all of them probably sticky as hell—thumped me on the back.

  After Zach got rid of the kids, or mostly, he shrugged. “I knew who you were. And everyone knew the star quarterback of the football team.”

  I pushed to my feet again, too fast for Zach to stop me this time. “I have to go.”

  “Can I have your Dilly?”

  My eyes flew wide. “You’re kidding.”

  “Yeah.” Just like that, Zach was at my side, but holding my chocolate Dilly Bar. “I mean, you get first dibs. And I can’t carry the sodas, too.”

  I glanced back at our table but kept walking. Out the door. Past Zach’s bright-orange Beetle. Headed for home or hell or wherever.

  I didn’t much care.

  “I’ll walk you home, but I do have Green Day in my car.”

  I snorted, even though icicles of long-ago pain kept nailing me with every step. “That’s what you promised, but you played the Killers. They couldn’t possibly read my mind.”

  And neither can you.

  “And neither can I.”

  Jesus. Could he?

  Zach slowed his pace to match my faltering steps. “But I’d like to.”

  “Why? Because I’m friends with Lauren?”

  This time, Zach’s steps faltered. In fact, he tripped over a rock on the sidewalk that, in fairness, I really should’ve pointed out to him.

  “Lauren?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Your girlfriend?”

  “She’s my friend. One of my best friends, actually, since we were little kids.”

  I didn’t want to have this conversation. I also didn’t want to walk home, but I couldn’t call Liz for a ride if Zach planned to stay glued to my side.

  For reasons I couldn’t begin to understand.

  “Anyway. I heard the rumors about you, and I remembered what everyone said Blake bragged at the time.”

  Zach was intrepid; I’d give him that.

  “Please. Stop.” I held up a hand, using it as an excuse to turn back to Dairy Queen. One way or another, I was getting a ride home. ASAP. “It was a long time ago, and it wasn’t true, but everyone thought what they thought.”

  Even my own sisters. Liz had graduated that year with Blake, Mr. Star Quarterback. They weren’t friends, but as far as I knew he’d left Woodbury High with his testicles intact. If Liz had known the truth, he wouldn’t have.

  At least, I’d always hoped so.

  “Lydia, I remember the look on your face. For months afterward.”

  So not true. I’d pasted a cocky grin on my face the next day and every day since.

  Until Milwaukee. When I grew up.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know what you thought you saw, but it doesn’t matter. Besides, you never said anything.”

  “I didn’t know you.” Reaching the rock he’d tripped over a few minutes ago, Zach kicked it. “I didn’t know Blake, either, but I know his college football scholarship fell through for reasons other than his academic eligibility.”

  We kept walking in silence.

  Wait. What?

  “You did something?”

  Next to me, he squirmed. “Um, my mom might’ve. I mean, I’m not sure. But she—”

  I skidded to a halt. “You told your mom? Even though you didn’t know me or know what really happened?”

  His mouth twisted. “Yeah. Maybe I can’t read your mind, but I would’ve had to be blind not to see the look on your face when you thought no one was looking. Back then, and ever since.”

  It was too much—way too much—and I refused to cry.

  I’d cried myself out three years ago, or so I hoped. I’d also thought I was the only person in the world, besides Blake, who knew what happened that night. The big senior football star had flirted with me after the game—me, a lowly freshman with a crush and an inflated ego—before sweetly offering me a ride home and then driving to a dead-end road.

  The rest was history. And I couldn’t change it.

  But I could lash out at Zach.

  I patted him on the arm as a knife twisted inside me. “Hey, I totally get it. Now you know why all the bad boys want me, even if you don’t. Which is a total relief. You’re not my type.”

  I took off, grateful for running shoes and the fact that I’d logged a lot of miles in the last week in addition to all the time I spent sweating all over the uneven parallels. I might not make the team, but I could run like hell when I needed to.

  Right now, I needed to.

  Before Zach saw the tears rolling down my cheeks and tried to read my mind.

  I made it a block before he caught up to me.

  Damn it.

  “You’re not my type, either.” He was breathing hard, which made me happy. A little happy. “But you’re really not Drew’s or Kirk’s type.”

  He ran just so he could slam me like this? Actually ran?

  I jammed my hands on my hips, something Liz usually did right before taking down pretty much every guy—besides Alex—who’d ever crossed her path.

  It probably explained w
hy Liz got all the varsity letters and Jane got all the boyfriends, but I didn’t want to be Jane. Not that I wanted to be Liz, either.

  I met Zach’s serious gaze and raised him one. “What is it you want? To protect me from every guy on the planet? Thanks, but not necessary.”

  Not since Shangri-La, definitely. Except for Drew, who was going out with Chelsea and therefore desperate by definition, no one was lining up to go out with me or even just hook up with me, which was a relief.

  Mostly.

  Zach held my chocolate Dilly up to my nose, nailing me with it. “You forgot your dinner. Someone needs to make sure you eat.”

  “I already did.” Just like that, my stomach erupted in a growl reminiscent of a herd of water buffalo. Crap. Feeling like an idiot, I laughed along with Zach and grabbed my Dilly out of his hand. “But for the record, I’m not hungry.”

  “Then give me back the Dilly.”

  As he took a step toward me, I shoved him backward. “Not on your life.”

  He grinned, but that’s when it got weird.

  He didn’t hit on me.

  Didn’t try to pull me into his arms, didn’t try to kiss me, didn’t give me a lame-ass smoldering look, didn’t even say something flirty or suggestive.

  Oh, right. He was with Lauren.

  Even if he’d said he wasn’t. Hadn’t he?

  “You don’t really want to walk home, do you?” He tilted his head, studying me. Nope, not a drop of smoldering. “When at least two Green Day CDs are sitting in my car?”

  “So you say.” I glanced down at my Dilly, which was on the run to melting all over my hand. Rolling my eyes, I handed it to Zach. “But you don’t have to give me a ride.”

  He inhaled half of it in one bite. “You didn’t have to give me your Dilly.”

  I snorted. “Self-preservation. You would’ve tackled me for it.”

  But he still wouldn’t have tried to kiss me, let alone go for more.

  “You don’t know that.” Zach finished the Dilly with his second bite, but his hand was a mess of melted ice cream. He licked it. “But sure. It’s possible.”

  Without another word, we turned back toward Dairy Queen. He pointed out a rock on the sidewalk before I tripped over it. He was a better person than I was. So sue me.

  We reached his Beetle and climbed in, even though his hands had to be beyond sticky and even though the space inside his car felt too confined. Too—I don’t know—embarrassing.

  He had a tiny bottle of hand sanitizer in the glove compartment. As I stared, he put a dab on his hands and offered the bottle to me with a lift of his brows.

  “Hand sanitizer?”

  His mouth quirked. He’d smiled more tonight than in the entire time I’d known him. “My mom.”

  He didn’t even blush. At this point, I just laughed.

  Twisting, he reached down to the floor of the back seat and dug through the huge pile of CDs. “Found 'em.”

  He handed me two CDs, Dookie and Insomniac. How did he know they were my all-time faves?

  It was almost like he could read my mind.

  Ha.

  Wordless, I handed one back to him. Equally wordless, he started the car, popped the Killers out of the CD player, and inserted Insomniac.

  Then he pulled out of the DQ parking lot. This time, he headed for my house.

  Just when I wished he wouldn’t.

  Ten minutes later, he pulled up in front of my house.

  In mildly shocking news, Dad wasn’t waiting at the front door with a shotgun.

  “Green Day, as promised. Your house, as promised.” Zach gave me a crooked smile. “Sorry I didn’t drop you in a drainage ditch, which sounded like a big fantasy for you, but I’ll be better about the shovel next time.”

  Next time?

  “Um, thanks.” I fidgeted in my seat but didn’t unbuckle. A guy drove me home on a Friday night and didn’t have the faintest interest in kissing me, let alone doing more. What was I supposed to do with a guy like that?

  Zach unbuckled me. “It’s not even ten. Maybe your dad will let me live.”

  “You never know.” Still, I didn’t open my door. I leaned ever so slightly in his direction, but he didn’t take that hint, either.

  “The thing is . . .”

  My gaze flew to his eyes, which were so serious. And dark. And, okay, gorgeous. “Yeah?”

  He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing wildly. “I think every guy in the world has wanted to kiss you—and maybe more—and half of them say they have, but I don’t think it’s true.”

  He really did pay attention.

  But what did he want? Guys all wanted something, didn’t they?

  “The thing is, I’d like to be friends.”

  Oh. Wow.

  Nodding, I bit my lip but didn’t say a word. The huge lump in my throat pretty much prevented it.

  “We can work on your D chord, move on to bar chords, and maybe put a band together.”

  “Wait.” I held up a hand, even though words were still beyond hard. “Last time I checked, you’re already in a band.”

  He laughed, softly. “Not after tonight. And I’m thinking I can steal Heather and maybe even Jeremy away from Kirk.”

  I frowned. “Not Michael?”

  “Michael thinks you’re hot.”

  Not as far as I could tell, but whatever. “Jeremy doesn’t?”

  He wagged a finger in my face. “My guess? Neither does Heather, but you can’t have them all. Besides, Jeremy still likes your sister.”

  “Even though he dumped her?”

  He rolled his eyes. “You really don’t talk to her, do you?”

  “Not lately.”

  “So you can work on that and your D chord. And gymnastics.” He shook his head. “In case I ever need to catch you again, though, please don’t work on your running.”

  I couldn’t figure him out. At all. “Why would you want to catch me? Your Dilly Bar is totally safe from me. I mean, probably.”

  He laughed. “For a smart, savvy, streetwise chick, you have no idea.”

  Then, for the briefest moment, he touched his lips to mine.

  “I—” Was that a “friends” kiss? Was it even really a kiss at all? “I thought you wanted to be friends?”

  He grinned and climbed out of the VW, then walked around to my side and opened my door. “I want that, too.”

  Chapter 19

  Wholly inattentive to her sister’s feelings, Lydia flew about the house in restless ecstasy.

  — Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice, Volume II, Chapter Eighteen

  Cat’s bedroom door was closed when I went upstairs, but I approached it with a combination of mild dread, two cans of soda, and a package of mint Oreos. Her favorite, not mine.

  I knocked.

  She didn’t answer, not even to curse at me.

  I glanced down at the Oreos, wishing I’d grabbed the berry ones, just as Cat’s door swung open and hit the wall.

  “Another conquest, I see.” Her eyes were suspiciously red and possibly damp, which didn’t seem like the hard-as-nails Cat she’d become. But like Zach said, I hadn’t talked to her—really talked to her—in forever.

  That was mutual.

  “Conquest?” I didn’t gratify her by touching my lips. Besides, Zach hadn’t really kissed me, had he? I mean, not really? “Hey, Jeremy is still pining for you, not me.”

  She tried to slam the door on me. Lucky thing I’d left my running shoes on, because it would’ve hurt.

  “I’m not talking about Jeremy.”

  Or to Jeremy, apparently, but whatever.

  I held out the mint Oreos, even though I was starting to think she owed me the peace offering.

  When she eyed the Oreos but didn’t cave, I tucked both sodas under my arm, ripped open the package, and popped an Oreo in my mouth.

  Mint. Seriously. A total waste of calories.

  I nodded at my old room. The remnants of my old life. “Can I come in?”

  “Wh
y?”

  I sighed. “Because it’s been too long?”

  Her mouth twisted. Just when I thought she was going to try slamming the door again, harder this time, she stepped away from it, letting me inside.

  I couldn’t accuse her of being gracious, but it was a start. Maybe.

  I handed her a Diet Coke and the whole package of mint Oreos, keeping only the Coke for myself. Popping the top on it, I walked over to Mary’s old bed, which had ended up here, and dropped onto it, then scooted backward to lean against the wall.

  Cat’s pissed-off gaze never left me, but she didn’t say a word.

  I waited her out. Yet another life skill I’d mastered at Shangri-La.

  Finally, she looked away from me and out the window, into the inky-black night. “Liz said you went home with Zach. Didn’t that piss off Kirk and Drew and a million other guys?”

  Like, say, Jeremy?

  I took a long swig of Coke, but it didn’t soothe my dry throat, not to mention my restless legs, which kept bouncing on the bed.

  “I didn’t go home with him. We stopped by DQ so he could grab something to eat.” His Dilly and mine. “Then he gave me a ride home. Liz told him that the back seat of Dad’s car was too junked up to leave room for me.”

  Right on cue, Cat snorted. “Like I believe that.”

  “Liz said it, not me, but Zach believed her and offered me a ride.”

  “He’s going out with Lauren.” Cat’s mouth twisted with her usual contempt of late. “Not that you’ve ever worried about stealing another girl’s guy.”

  Zing.

  “He just gave me a ride.” The Cat I used to know would’ve believed me, since I’d always been honest with her—and probably only her—but the angry girl sitting with her arms wrapped tightly around herself was a stranger. “Besides, he’s tight with Lauren, but I don’t think they’re a couple.”

  Or else he was a total creep. Hadn’t I already met every creep in Woodbury? Couldn’t it finally be my turn to meet a nice guy? Was that too much to ask?

  From the look on Cat’s face, it was too much to ask.

  “I hear Kirk’s party got busted.”

  I tilted my head. “Liz told you?”

  She nodded, her mouth pinched. After the shit Tess and Kirk had pulled on her last spring, I would’ve thought she’d be a little more gleeful.