From halfway across the restaurant the guy calls, “She already paid. Enjoy.”
I pull out my wallet without looking at her. I won’t be her charity case.
Soft fingers on mine, freezing my hand. God, what does she do to have skin like that? It’s probably from never having worked a day in her life.
“Jonah, it’s fine,” she says. “Your stepdad way overpaid me and—”
“I’m paying next time,” I say. Then realize there won’t be a next time. After this party, Bright’s never going to talk to me again. My throat is suddenly tight—I pull my hand away from hers and take a sip of water. This was my goal—to get her to leave me alone. If she’d listened when I told her that at school, it would’ve saved us both a lot of time.
“Sure.” She smiles at me, all toothpaste-ad perfection. “So, let’s try this creative combination of yours. Is it a favorite?”
Of course she’d rub that in. Of course she’d make a point of paying for pizza I ordered to piss her off. She’s probably trying to make me feel like a jerk. Or like more of a jerk. Well, mission accomplished, Bright. The piece I sling on a plate and thrust toward her is the one with the most toppings. Not that I’m petty or anything.
I help myself to a slice and watch with satisfaction as she nibbles around the pineapple, takes a cautious bite of jalape?o, then spits it out in a napkin. I swallow a mouthful and my laughter.
She tosses the napkin—and her plate—in the trash can as she walks back up to the counter. “You said whatever toppings I wanted,” I call after her, smugly taking a large bite of mushroom and pineapple.
She doesn’t turn around, but I do, because someone’s calling my name.
“Prentiss! See, told you it’s Jonah.”
It’s Mike Balaski and Zeke Manzano, two guys I know from Hamilton. They’re standing in the doorway, letting in bugs and letting out the AC.
“Hey, man, what’s up?”
“How’ve you been?”
They ask about Carly—so clearly the news hasn’t spread that far. I dodge the question and ask if they’re going to Jeff’s party.
“Maybe later. We’re picking up the girls from work and hitting the last show of Shriek 3.” Mike’s grinning like a fool, but I can’t remember whom Carly said he was dating.
“Tell them I say hi,” I bluff.
I don’t hear Brighton approach but notice when their eyes drift past me and widen in approval. She announces her arrival with: “You’ll want to bring a drink—it’s long.”
“They’re talking about Shriek 3.” At the last second I manage to strip the scoff and sarcasm from my statement.
“Yeah, I know. I heard you at the counter.” She smiles and gives her head a silly-boy shake that Mike and Zeke eat up. “It’s more than two hours, and it’s set in the desert—you’ll need drinks, trust me.”
Their thanks and intros take precedence over my “You’ve seen it?”
But after introducing herself with, “I go to school with Jonah,” she answers me, “I saw it last Friday.”
Carly won’t even watch previews for movies like that. I’m annoyed Mike and Zeke are looking at Bright with respect and interest. Why does she fall into conversation with them so easily when she and I are magnetic opposites?
“So, who’d you send to fetch your drink?” I want to expose her for the princess she is, but preferably without looking like a complete jerkwad.
“Jeremy North,” she answers nonchalantly, and both Mike and Zeke sigh—like they’ve forgotten all about the “girls.” I’m not much better, going through my mental Cross Pointe roster and identifying the center of the basketball team. That’s whose party she was talking about? “But only because Amelia wouldn’t let go of my or Peter’s hands. I don’t know why she goes to scary movies; she never sleeps afterward.”
“And you do?” I challenge, as Mike says, “Not so easy to scare, Brighton?”
“It’s just a movie—they don’t bother me.”
“So, what’d you think?” Zeke asks.
Ha! This is where she’ll expose herself: Bright doesn’t have opinions and they haven’t seen it, so she can’t just agree. I lean back and wet my lips.
“It’s hard to go wrong with a Lewis Marsh movie,” she says. A nice, vague, Brighton-type response. “But I hope he wraps up the Shriek films sooner than later. He dragged out the Gore series far too long. There’s only so many times a character can not be dead.”
She’s really seen them. And knows her stuff.
“I know, right? Six movies, and the plot ran out after four.” Mike nods and leans in toward her. “You know, you’re not half-bad for a Cross Pointer.”
“Gee, thanks?” Bright laughs and they join her. I’m analyzing her posture, her voice, her body language. She’s not flirting. She’s just … charming. And they’re thoroughly charmed.
“You want to come with us?” Zeke asks. At least he has the decency to aim the question at both of us.