“Yeah! It’s still going strong. Are you and—”
“Trish!” I whisper-yelled. I didn’t want her shouting my name and Adrian’s name in the same sentence, not while she was around people that went to our school.
“What?” she yelled above the music. “I didn’t hear you.”
“Never mind,” I told her. “Listen, I’m heading over to your house. Will you be there soon?”
“I’m leaving now,” she said.
“Are you … okay … to drive?” I asked awkwardly. We were friends, I think, but new friends. It felt weird asking.
“Mystic, unlike some people I know, I only had one drink, and that was, like, six hours ago. I’ll be fine. Thanks for worrying, though. I’ll see you soon!”
“Bye,” I said, and disconnected.
I felt my way to Adrian’s door in the darkness and let him back in.
“Ready to go?”
I nodded and shoved the sandals on my feet, following Adrian out the French doors onto the deck, then down the stairs and across the lawn to his motorcycle.
It occurred to me that I must look really weird clinging to a guy who could easily make a living as an underwear model while I wore baggy sweatpants and borrowed sandals. Of course, I’d probably looked pretty okay while I was on here in stilettos with my vampire dress riding up my thighs, but still. Life was weird. I slipped my arms around his waist as he started the engine.
It was less cold this time, but it was still Stony Creek at four thirty in the morning at the end of October. Eventually, we pulled up to Trish’s driveway and Adrian cut the engine. He pulled off his helmet and twisted to scan the road behind me.
“Trish’ll be here soon.”
A moment later, the headlights of Trish’s truck splashed golden light down the road. She pulled up next to us and rolled the passenger window down.
“Hop in,” she told me, then let her eyes wander to the other occupant of the Harley. “Morning, Adrian.”
He smiled back. “Morning, Trish.”
Trish grinned, then looked at me and frowned. “What in the hell are you wearing, Mystic?”
I was glad it was dark—she couldn’t see me blush. “Adrian let me borrow some clothes.”
Trish grinned slowly at me. “I see.”
“Well,” I announced in a higher pitch than normal. “We better be going.”
I scrambled off the bike (“fell” is more like it; Adrian had to grab hold of my arm to keep me upright) and shoved myself at the truck, pausing with the door half open.
“Thank you,” I said, glancing up once, briefly, at Adrian.
He just smiled softly, looking amused. “You’re welcome.”
I nodded at him and hopped in the truck. Trish pulled into the drive and in seconds Adrian had disappeared back into the night. After we parked, Trish let us in the front door and we tiptoed up to her room. I sank to the floor wearily.
“So,” Trish said, flopping onto her unmade bed. “You and Adrian, huh?”
Here we go. “Nothing happened.”
“Yeah. Right. Adrian looked like he wanted to beat the crap out of that guy and dragged you away on his Harley because he wanted nothing to happen.”
“He’s a good guy,” I told her a little more forcefully than necessary. “And it’s not like that. Besides, you told me he was gay.”
Trish snorted. “After seeing him with you the past few days, I have reversed my conclusion.”
It was my turn to snort. “I think you had too much Jungle Juice.”
Trish turned on her back, plunked her feet up against the wall, and let her head hang over the edge of the bed. “Firstly, he doesn’t let anyone within spitting distance of his bike, but he voluntarily picks you up for school. Secondly, he does his crazy superman stunt off the hayloft and who does he look at when he lands? You.”
I thought I’d imagined that. Guess not.
“Not only that, he comes to your rescue—again, I might add—when that guy kissed you.” She glanced down at me. “How was he, by the way?”
“A dream come true,” I said dryly. “Lots of saliva to keep it smooth.”
She laughed, then shuddered. “Gross. Anyway. After that, he hauls you back to the let’s-get-busy room and I don’t see you again until he’s dragging you out the front door. Call me crazy, but that looks like he’s pretty freaking interested.”
When she put it like that, it made sense. But she was wrong.
“Even if he wasn’t gay—which he is—I think I’d know if he saw me as anything other than, like, his crazy little sister. I’m new to Stony Creek. I’m an orphan. I live with my aunt and uncle. I don’t really belong here. Adrian’s an orphan, he lives with his aunt and uncle, and the only place he’d blend in is a runway in Milan.”
Trish looked thoughtful, then shrugged. “I still say he wants to get in your pants.”