“I could ask you the same question. Why do you let her invite so many people to your parties? Why do you put up with it?”
“She told me she’d ruin my reputation if I didn’t.”
“How could she do that? You’ve been with plenty of girls.”
“Yeah, I know, but she’s your friend, so I went along with it.”
“She wanted Sander. She thought they would be the school’s perfect couple.”
“But you got Sander instead.”
“I didn’t try to, though. It just happened. He was new, and we had a lot in common.”
He slides one of my shoes off and starts unbuckling the six buckles running up my other leg.
I wiggle and stretch my toes. They already feel so much better. I’m pretty sure if my toes had lips, they’d be kissing Cush right now in thanks.
“She threatened to ruin my reputation too,” I whisper.
“I really don’t think there’s anything she could do or say that would change people’s opinion of you. You don’t chase the spotlight, Keatyn. You never had to. The spotlight chases you.”
He slides off the other shoe then rubs the marks on my feet.
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t need her to be popular.”
I look into Cush’s big, blue eyes and have the sudden urge to kiss him.
You know, just to thank him for being so sweet.
Like, to my feet.
He looks down at his hands, which are still gently massaging my legs.
“I’m not sure I even want to be popular anymore,” I confess.
“Yeah, me either,” he says quietly. Then he brightens and gives me the naughty Cushman grin. “It’s a gorgeous day. Let’s skip. Drive down the coast or go to the beach.”
My phone vibrates with texts.
Vanessa: Where the fuck are you? Was Cush really carrying you down the hall? Did you leave school together?
RiAnne: I heard a naughty rumor about you and Cush. Is it true? Is that the real reason why you broke up with Sander?
I sigh, show him the texts then toss my phone in my bag. “Where should we go?”
“Santa Monica Pier? We can eat all the crap food, ride the Ferris wheel, and play arcade games until dark.”
“That sounds like fun,” I say.
Tuesday, May 17th
So, sue me.
5:45pm
Nearly fifty-nine hours since the hookup, and I’m starting to wonder if I will ever see Brooklyn again.
And, yes, I’ve been counting the hours.
So, sue me.
I leave soccer practice in a bit of a daze.
I confided in Cush earlier today. Told him about Brooklyn, and tried to get his advice. Tried to get him to tell me what the hell it means when a guy doesn’t call.
He got irritated with me and told me he didn’t know.
When I asked again after practice, because I am desperate for any shred of advice, he snapped at me and said, He’ll call when he wants to hookup again.
Could he be right?
We’ve never gone this long without talking to each other.
Is he embarrassed to talk to me?
Does he wish he hadn’t kissed me?
Is he afraid I’ll think it’s more than it is, and this is his way of letting me know it?
I march out to the black Range Rover I usually drive to school and see Vanessa leaning up against it.
Vanessa never stays after school. And she’s alone.
Which means she’s mad at me.
I am so not in the mood to deal with her shit right now.
“What the fuck was that about at lunch today?” she snarls at me.
“Nothing. Cush and I sat at the table right next to ours. With his soccer team. They just chose him as Captain for next year. He wanted to do a little bonding and asked me to join him. Don’t blow it all out of proportion. It’s really not a big deal.”
She grabs my arm tightly. “Oh, but it is a big deal. And it is important. We have a reputation to uphold, and people are starting to wonder what’s going on with you. You know that, right? They don’t know what to think about your recent behavior. First, you break up with the prom king, and he’s so upset he dyed his hair! Then, you’re sneaking off with Cush in the middle of the day? He’s carrying you down the hall? Now today, you sit with the freaking soccer boys? I mean the lacrosse team, maybe, but soccer? Seriously? It looks bad. It looks like you aren’t part of our group anymore. Is that what you want? What are you thinking?”
“Uh, I’m . . . not, really.”
“I’d say that’s pretty fucking obvious. Well, you’re lucky I’m thinking about it. You and Cush better get your asses to our lunch table tomorrow and stay there. I will not let you ruin us. Do you understand?”
“I just don’t get what the big deal is. It was one day.”
“Instead of pondering that, why don’t you think about this? How are you going to feel if I tell everyone your relationship with Sander was a sham? How are you going to feel when I tell people that you’re probably really a lesbian, and that’s why you’ve never found a guy to fuck you. People will believe it. You are on the soccer team.”