And after that kiss, maybe I don’t really care what they think. Maybe I just want Thayer.
The opening credits of the movie roll and the imposing orchestral sound track swells, filling the room. Suddenly I can’t sit still for a second longer. It’s like ants are crawling over every exposed surface of my skin. I leap up from the sofa, ignoring the startled looks Charlotte and Madeline shoot my way.
“I, uh, need to use the bathroom,” I mumble, wandering down the hall.
“Do you want us to pause it?” Madeline calls after me, sounding confused.
“No, it’s fine,” I call back. “I know the whole thing by heart.”
I tiptoe past the bathroom and make my way stealthily down the hall. I’m not sure exactly what I’m doing, but almost unconsciously, I find myself at the door to Thayer’s bedroom. A light glows from beneath it, and my heart jumps. I have no idea what I’ll say to him … but I have to say something.
I knock lightly, shifting my weight nervously from one foot to the other. But there’s no answer. I knock again, quickly, and when it’s still silent inside, I cautiously push the door open.
I’m greeted with a gust of fresh air from an open window, but no Thayer. A worn-in navy hoodie lies rumpled across his unmade bed, and I’m tempted to run to it and rub it between my fingers, to breathe it in and slip it on over my tank top. It would be almost like having his arms around me again.
Surveying the room, I realize that Thayer’s computer is still on, casting an eerie glow across his desk. An open IM window blinks beckoningly on the screen.
Heading over, it says.
The message is for my sister.
My blood runs cold. He’s gone to see Laurel? He’s going to tell her what happened tonight, and she’ll console him … and then what? It’s obvious she’s totally in love with him. And they’re so close. Just because they haven’t been romantic yet doesn’t mean they never will.
I back out of his bedroom and retrace my steps toward the kitchen, taking care not to make any noise. Forget the sleepover. Forget my friends. I have to find Thayer. I have to talk to him, to apologize, to explain, to make him understand....
As quietly as I can manage, I unlock the latch on the back door and slip out into the night. The chirping of crickets and the rush of the wind in the leaves spur me on. Before I can take another step, I hear a voice.
“Sutton.”
My name sounds low and throaty, slightly choked. And I’d recognize the voice blindfolded. I couldn’t forget it if I wanted to. I’ve been thinking about it all night.
It’s Thayer.
14
JUST BETWEEN US
At the sight of Thayer standing there, bathed in moonlight, my legs go weak and wobbly. The air is fragrant and thick with the scent of acacia blooms, and a light breeze rustles the cool night air. Somewhere in the distance, a dog howls mournfully.
“Thayer!” I cry. Before I can stop myself, I rush toward him, arms outstretched for an embrace. But as I reach for him, he steps back, his eyes cold and flat. His face is devoid of emotion, which is almost worse than if he looked at me with hatred or disgust.
“I’m sorry,” I insist. “The prank wasn’t my idea. And it isn’t what you think.” It’s cold out here in the wind, and goose bumps break out across my bare arms. I rub my hands over my forearms, trying to warm myself. But I can’t reach that cold pit in the base of my stomach. I blink, feeling my eyes well with emotion.
Thayer’s eyes flicker across my body, making me shiver even harder. His jaw is set and his posture is rigid. “I shouldn’t be surprised, I guess,” he snaps, raising his head and gazing over my shoulder into the distance. “You guys are the Lying Game. I was just the idiot who acted like a sucker.” He laughs once, a short, bitter chuckle. “I can’t believe how gullible I was.”
“Thayer, no,” I plead. “You don’t understand. I didn’t want to prank you, I swear. I was lying to my friends,” I admit, winding a strand of hair around my index finger. “That kiss … that was real for me. Honest.”
“And I’m supposed to believe you now?”
I bite my lip. “I don’t blame you if you don’t. But … hear me out, okay? I’m the most popular girl at Hollier. I have best friends who think I’m awesome. And compared to how I’m treated at home, it’s kind of an amazing feeling.”
He sniffs. “How are you treated at home?”
“Sort of … second best, I guess. Like I don’t belong there.”
Thayer lowers his chin. “I’ve never seen any evidence of that.”