I think I do.
“You really want me to leave, Callahan?” His voice is quiet. The entire house is quiet. My heart is thundering, and I wonder if he can hear it.
I wonder if I really affect him like he does me. Or if he just says all those sweet things to get in my pants or whatever.
“I’m with someone else,” I remind him. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“And you shouldn’t be with someone else.” He pauses. Swallows hard. Looks down at the floor before he lifts his gaze to mine once again. “You should be with me.”
“I know nothing about you,” I whisper, hating how shaky my voice sounds. It’s true. I don’t know him. I only know of him. His background is a mystery. I’ve never really asked around about him, and no one volunteers any information. Does he have brothers or sisters? I don’t know, I’ve never asked. And what’s up with his mom? Where does he live?
“There’s not much to know,” he says with a shrug, glancing around the foyer once more. “I’m not rich like you, I can tell you that.”
“I’m not—”
He interrupts me. “Don’t bother denying it. You’re definitely rich. Richer than I could ever hope to be.”
I go quiet, because he’s right. I did nothing to have my life. I was just lucky enough to be born to parents who make money.
“I don’t care about money. If a person is rich or poor, I’m not going to judge them,” I say, my voice level, my heart racing. I stare into his eyes. “So don’t try to label me a snob when I’m not.”
He actually grins, the asshole. “I like it when you get mad. It’s cute.”
“I’m not mad,” I deny with a scowl.
“Sure. Whatever.” He comes toward me, his strides quick. Purposeful. I back up, my butt hitting the door, and then his mouth his on mine. Quick and fleeting. The kiss over and done with before it had a chance to start. My lips are still tingling when he pulls away, and my hands itch with the need to grab him.
But I don’t.
“See ya around, Callahan,” he whispers as he reaches around me for the door handle.
I scoot out of his way, watching as he opens the door, then quietly closes it behind him, finally leaving me alone.
I’m lying in my bed hours later, unable to sleep. Replaying every moment between us. Friday night, how I was drawn to him when I shouldn’t have been. The kiss we shared. The slow, tortuous stroke of his tongue around mine, how he held me so tight, his fingers branding my skin. He was right. I was rubbing against him like I was desperate, and I thought I’d embarrassed myself, but he liked it.
He liked it.
He likes me.
Tonight’s conversation was ridiculous. I find it difficult to believe a word he says. Most of it feels like shock value. He doesn’t really care about me.
Does he?
The frustration, the joy, the anger. All three emotions rush over me, even more intense this time around, and I don’t know what the hell I’m doing with Ash.
It needs to stop, I tell myself.
But I don’t know if it can.
Thirteen
Surprisingly, Ash keeps his mouth shut at school. He doesn’t breathe a word about our interactions over the weekend. Ben texted me late Sunday afternoon to let me know he was back home, and I was so relieved to see his text, to know he’s close and doesn’t hate me, that I almost started to cry.
Or maybe that’s the guilt trying to strangle me alive. I’m not sure.
The week goes by without any issues. Everything is normal. I have cheer practice. I get a B-on my math test. In leadership we’re planning homecoming week, and even though it’s a month away, everyone’s already stressed out. Ben and I go to Starbucks after school on Wednesday and hang out with our friends. He kisses me deep as we’re leaning against his car before we each head home, and I have to admit, I felt that little tingle, stirring deep in my stomach.
Maybe that’s also because I thought of Ash when Ben kissed me, which means I’m most likely going to hell.
I don’t see Ash at all. Not once. We don’t have the same classes, we’re not even on the same track, so that means we don’t really bump into each other in the halls. Our freshman year we hung in the same social circle, even part of our sophomore year, but now we don’t really have the same friends at all. He’s always with his football bros at lunch. Or sneaking off campus to go out to lunch with his senior friends.
At cheer practice on Thursday, our coach Brandy hits us with an announcement. “We’ve been invited last minute to eat dinner tonight with the football team.”
Some of the girls groan, a few of them get excited, but the rest of us remain quiet. That is the absolute last thing I want to do.
“I know, I know, it’s a pain in the ass.” Brandy always keeps it real with us. “But I said yes, because it’s hard to say no to that sweet woman who runs the football boosters club.”
That’s true. Ann Gibson is a first-grade teacher at the local elementary school and no one can refuse her when she makes a request. It doesn’t matter who you are, she speaks in this high-pitched, slow voice like she’s talking to a six-year-old, and the next thing you know, you’re agreeing to whatever she asks you do.
“Some of you probably have plans or can’t get a ride home that late, and I totally understand. This isn’t mandatory. Who can go tonight?” More than half the team raises their hands, including me. Dad will be there, so I sort of have to go. He’d expect me there. “Okay, good. We’ll head over after we’re done.”
It’s all I can think about throughout practice. We’re out on the field, working on our halftime dance routine for tomorrow night, and I’m going through the motions like a zombie. I think about the smug look on Ash’s face when he first sees me walk through the door. He’ll probably say something rude about me to impress his friends and they’ll all laugh at him at my expense.
Now I have mad regret. I should’ve told Brandy I couldn’t make it.
We’re stunting, and I’m a base. Even though I’m short, I’m heavier than the freshmen girls who are flyers, plus I have strong legs. I’m so distracted when we throw our flyer into a basket toss, I almost drop her, which sends Brandy into a complete tizzy. She’s been sitting on the bleachers, making sure we’re lined up okay, and now she’s running down the steps, headed straight for us. “Holy crap Autumn, you almost dropped Emma! What’s wrong with you?”
“Sorry, sorry.” I rise to my feet and brush myself off, little bits of dry grass fluttering to the ground. I was the one who took the brunt of the fall, collapsing under Emma so she never touched the ground. My side hurts, as does my shoulder, and I try to suck it up. “Actually, I don’t feel so great.”
Kaya’s in the other stunt group and she sends me a look, one that clearly asks, are you all right? I give a shrug as my answer.
“Emma, are you hurt?” Brandy asks as she approaches our stunt group.
“No, Autumn dive bombed under me.” Emma pats me on the arm. She’s funny and sweet. I really like her. “Thanks for saving me.”
“No problem.” I say nothing else, but I can feel my coach’s assessing gaze. I never drop anyone. Being a base is one thing I’m really good at, so I know Brandy’s wondering what’s wrong with me.
Not like I can tell her either.
I force myself to focus and we stunt for another twenty minutes. Once I push Ash out of my brain, I’m back to normal. To the point that when we’re finished, Brandy approaches me with a compliment.
“Good job just now. I think you guys threw Emma up in the air higher than you ever have before.” She pats me on the back. “Whatever was bothering you earlier, you must’ve gotten over it.”
Not particularly, though I’m not going to admit that to her. If I told her I had a problem, she’d ask all the right questions and next thing I’d know, I’d be confessing all to my cheer coach. I adore Brandy, but I do not want to tell her about my troubles with Ash.