K.C. came huffing over to my table again for lunch the next day. She wouldn’t talk about it, and I wouldn’t ask, but I assumed it was about either Tate or Liam.
Liam, I couldn’t care less about. Tate, I tried to care less about.
“So I just got a text from Zack.” Madoc came up and swung a chair around to straddle it backwards. “Derek Roman will be back in town for the weekend. He wants to race you on Friday night.”
I groaned inwardly, not because I thought I would lose, but because Roman was a huge bucket of dick.
Yeah, what I did to Tate the last few years, this guy did times ten to half of the school when he went here. I might win, or I might lose, but getting my car to finish without a scratch would be a miracle.
I shrugged. “Fine. It’ll be a close race, so the odds will pay off big.”
And I needed the money. My father was pinching me for cash every week, and it wasn’t pocket change. He was smart, though. He wanted money but never got too greedy. Enough to make it hurt me but not enough that I wouldn’t be able to deliver.
“You’re racing Liam, right?” K.C. asked Madoc.
He looked at her across the table and smirked. “I don’t know if we’d call it racing. More like a castration.”
“Just be careful, okay?” She looked concerned.
Really?
Madoc leaned his chest forward into the back of his chair. “K.C.?” His voice was low and husky. “I’m picturing you naked right now.”
And I couldn’t help it. The snort came out, and my chest exploded with laughter, as I buried my forehead into my hand.
“Ugh!” K.C. grumbled in disgust. Standing up, she straightened her cut off jean skirt and stalked off towards the cafeteria doors, but Madoc and I still couldn’t control ourselves.
God, he’s the best.
“K.C., wait!” I shouted after her, not really trying to bring her back.
Madoc stood up, still chuckling. “K.C., come on. It was a joke.”
But she didn’t turn around.
And we kept laughing.
Tate and I had made eye contact a few times throughout the day. The storm in her eyes had turned to a drizzle, but I didn’t spend time thinking about it.
I couldn’t. The shit between us was over. It had been over for her a long time ago, but for me, it needed to end pronto.
Themes class passed peacefully, but Penley had us arrange our desks in circles, so I had a perfect view of Tate sitting across from me. Every once in a while, I would catch her glancing at me, the thoughts behind her eyes unclear.
We’d just moved our desks back into the regular position, and Mrs. Penley was talking about monologues that we were supposed to perform in the next two weeks. I was ready to just get the hell out of here and take Madman to the lake. Poor dog had been ignored lately with my work, school, and being gone on the weekends. Sometimes I took him with me when I spent time with Jax, but sleeping in my bed was usually the only time I got to hang out with him.
It briefly crossed my mind to see if Tate wanted to take him sometimes—give the guy some extra attention—but I pushed that thought out of my head right away.
We weren’t friends, and I wasn’t asking her for shit.
As if reading my thoughts, I noticed her shift in her seat, and I looked up to see her turned around, staring at me.
She blinked, looked down, and back up again like she was sad, lost, and something else. Something like regret or despair. Why was she sad? I narrowed my eyes, and tried to look away. I didn’t need to know what was going on with her.
“Now, class,” Penley spoke, her attention still focused on the piece of paper she wrote on. “Don’t forget that the anti-bullying assembly is on the twenty-ninth. Instead of going to first period, go to—”
Tate’s hand shot up. “Mrs. Penley,” she interrupted.
The teacher looked up. “Yes, Tate?”
“We have five minutes left of class.” Her voice was polite. “May I perform my monologue now?”
What the hell?
This project wasn’t due for a while, and everyone’s eyes, including Penley’s, bugged out.
What the hell was Tate doing?
“Um, well, I wasn’t expecting to grade anything yet. Do you have your essay ready?” Penley asked.
“No, I’ll have that by the due date, but I would really love to perform it now. Please.”
My teeth ground together.
“Okay.” Penley let out a reluctant sigh. “If you’re sure you’re ready…”
Great.
The last thing I wanted to do right now was look at Tate or hear her voice. Mostly because I knew it would be a struggle to not watch her.
Noise. Space. Distraction.
Slouching in my seat, I stretched out my legs and crossed my ankles. Picking up my pen, I pressed my pen onto my notebook paper and started drawing three dimensional cubes.
“I like storms,” I heard her start, but I kept my eyes trained on the lines I drew. “Thunder, torrential rain, puddles, wet shoes. When the clouds roll in, I get filled with this giddy expectation.”
I pinched my eyebrows together. Tate loved the rain.
“Everything is more beautiful in the rain. Don’t ask me why.” She sounded light and natural, like she was speaking to a friend. “But it’s like this whole other realm of opportunity. I used to feel like a superhero, riding my bike over the dangerously slick roads, or maybe an Olympic athlete enduring rough trials to make it to the finish line.”
She paused, and I lifted my pen, realizing I’d been outlining the same box over and over again.
“On sunny days, as a girl, I could still wake up to that thrilled feeling. You made me giddy with expectation, just like a symphonic rainstorm. You were a tempest in the sun, the thunder in a boring, cloudless sky.”
Suspicion inched its way under my skin, and my breathing got shallow.
This wasn’t a monologue.
She continued, “I remember I’d shovel in my breakfast as fast as I could, so I could go knock on your door. We’d play all day, only coming home for food and sleep. We played hide and seek, you’d push me on the swing, or we’d climb trees.”