Going Under

I hated lying to Gretchen. She could always see through the lies, but she never called me out on them. She just waited until I finally caved and told the truth. I think it was satisfying for her, watching me squirm for minutes or days or however long it took before I finally came clean.

“I can’t tell you, Gretchen, but I don’t like Cal, and I think I’m completely falling in love with Ryan and if you mess this up for me I’ll—”

“Relax,” Gretchen said. “But you’ve gotta do better than that. We’re not leaving this bathroom until you tell me why you’re on a date with him.”

“Me? What about you? Why are you on a date with Parker? I told you he’s a dick.”

“Yeah? Well I wanted to find out for myself. He was really nice at the party, and I want to get to know him better.”

How on earth could I tell Gretchen that I thought Parker was a rapist? How could I tell her that I knew Cal was? I was trapped. It was as simple as that. I had to come clean. I had to tell her what I was doing.

“Okay, Gretchen? I will tell you everything that’s going on. I swear to God I will. But we’ve got to get through this date first.”

Gretchen nodded.

“Which means we have to walk out of this bathroom acting normal,” I explained.

“Totally.”

“Now, you’re gonna see me flirting with Cal and acting like a little good girl, okay?” I said. “Just go with it. Don’t mention anything about me going to Hanover High last year. Don’t mention anything about anyone from my past. And especially don’t mention Beth.”

“Huh?” Gretchen immediately looked concerned.

“Please, Gretchen. I’m begging you. Just go along with my flirting and sweet girl persona and don’t mention anything about my past.”

“What if they ask?”

“Just say we know each other from ballet. We used to take ballet together and stayed friends.”

Gretchen nodded. “I feel super weird right now.”

“No you don’t,” I said. I couldn’t hide the panic in my voice. “You don’t feel weird at all. We’re gonna bowl. It’s gonna be great. And we know each other from ballet.”

“Got it. Ballet.”

We emerged from the bathroom giggling because I said we needed to and approached the waiting boys.

“We’ve got shoes and balls,” Cal said, and Gretchen burst out laughing. I couldn’t help but grin.

“That’s what we hope,” Gretchen said, and Parker’s face broke out in a grin as well.

Cal smirked and handed me my size 6 shoes and the ten-pound ball I asked for.

“Now how should we do this?” he asked the group as we made our way to Lane 7.

“You mean teams?” I asked. “I thought I’d be with you.” I sat beside Gretchen as we pulled on our bowling shoes.

Cal shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought it’d be fun to switch partners.”

Oh no. No no no. There was no way in hell I was partnering with the guy who purposefully tripped me on the bleachers. Why would Cal do this?

I was furious. This was not the date I had intended. I wanted Cal all to myself. I wanted to flirt and be cute and have him eating out of my hand by eleven tonight. And I thought he wanted something more one-on-one as well. After all, what was all that bullshit about picking me up and this being a “real” date? He insisted on driving when I wanted to meet him here. I wanted it casual, friendly, and he didn’t like that one bit. And now he was giving me the “friendly” treatment?

“Did you two arrange this?” I asked. I wanted to know.

“Sort of,” Cal replied. “It was last minute. Parker told me he was taking Gretchen out, so I just figured we could all do something together. Since you wanted our first date to be more casual.” He winked at me. I wanted to poke his eye out.

I looked at Parker, who hadn’t directed two words to me since we arrived. This was the guy who thought I was too stupid to remember food orders. I couldn’t imagine what he’d think after we bowled. I was lousy at it, and I’m sure he was stellar, which meant he’d bitch the entire time about having a bad partner. But he’d do it in a snarky, subtle way because that’s just the kind of guy he was.

“Ladies first,” Cal said, and gently pushed me towards the lane.

“I turned around and addressed Parker. “I’m not very good.” It was apologetic, and I instantly regretted saying anything at all.

He shrugged. “I figured.”

I turned back around and closed my eyes. Find a happy place, Brooke, and just breathe. Breathe, Brooke. Don’t say it. Don’t say what you really want to say. Just breathe. Brooke? Don’t do it. Please don’t do it . . . Oh, just go on and say it!

“Fuckhead.” I didn’t whisper it either. I just said it. Right out loud.

“Excuse me?” I heard Parker ask from behind.

I turned around. “I called you a fuckhead. Because you are one.”

Gretchen’s eyes went wide. I could see the struggle on her face: laugh or stay mute? She opted for mute, which was wise.

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