Her mouth dropped open. “And then . . . what? You won’t like me anymore if I don’t win the big game? You won’t like me if I actually think about what happened instead of pushing it under the rug?”
Josh halted at a stoplight. “God, Caitlin. You’ve been picking on me for the past two weeks. And I didn’t even do anything.”
A thousand words froze in Caitlin’s throat. I just want you to listen to me, she wanted to scream. I want to be able to talk about Taylor without you getting all weird. I want you to throw your arms around me and say you’ll listen, however long it takes. I want you to understand, even if you don’t understand. And that’s what hurts the most.
But for some reason, she couldn’t actually say it. Maybe it was because they’d been together for too long; they’d developed a pattern of not saying so many things that it felt weird to actually be honest. Or maybe it was because it was all too true, and saying it would prove how disconnected they really were. It was a harsh thing to realize, but suddenly, Caitlin saw it in sharp focus. Besides soccer, she and Josh had nothing in common. Nothing at all.
She tore her seat belt off and jerked the car door open.
“What the hell?” he asked, his shocked face turning toward her.
She stepped out of the car and threw up one hand.
“Babe, get back in the car,” Josh demanded.
Caitlin shook her head, slamming the door. “I need some time alone,” she snapped through the open window.
“Caitlin, what the hell did I do?”
For a moment Josh looked uncertain, and she was almost afraid he’d get out and follow her. But then the light changed. Behind him cars started to honk. He stared at her for a long moment, confused. Then he shook his head, held up his hand in a “whatever” kind of gesture, and roared off down the street.
She stood there for a moment, breathing in the smells of exhaust and faintly rotten leaves. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears. She’d never done anything like that before—she and Josh had barely ever even squabbled. It felt scary to do something so unlike herself. But also kind of liberating.
She pulled out her phone, about to call someone to pick her up—her moms? Jeremy?—when she noticed someone jogging by. She did a double take. Granger.
He was dressed in running shorts and a long-sleeved shirt, but his pace was slow, almost leisurely. He locked eyes with her as he passed. A small, strange smile tugged up the corners of his lips. He gave a tiny, ironic salute, and then he was gone.
Caitlin’s hand shook. She knew that look. She’d given it to Nolan a thousand times after Taylor died. Its message was loud and clear: You’re going down—and there’s nothing you can do about it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
SATURDAY NIGHT, JULIE STEPPED INTO Maru’s Sushi and shook the water off the plaid umbrella she’d just borrowed. It was raining buckets, but although Julie’s house was filled with, well, everything imaginable, she couldn’t find a single umbrella in any of the piles. However, she’d run into two groups of kids from school in the parking garage, and multiple people had offered to lend her an umbrella. One girl, a junior named Sadie, said she’d hold the umbrella over Julie as she walked the short distance to the restaurant. “You guys are so sweet,” Julie had said, graciously accepting Sadie’s Burberry umbrella and promising to return it on Monday. Popularity did have its privileges sometimes—it was the one bright spot in her otherwise collapsing world.
Now she looked around the crimson-and-gold restaurant. The air smelled like soy and ginger, her favorite scent combo. Paper lanterns hung over the tables, giving off a muted glow. Behind the bar a sushi chef stood frowning in concentration, his knife flying over the cutting board. She finally caught sight of Carson at a table in the corner, under an enormous Gyotaku-style print of a chinook salmon. He was looking down at the menu and didn’t notice her. She still couldn’t believe she’d let Parker talk her into this. “You deserve a dream date, especially after the past few days,” she’d said, and had physically taken the phone from Julie and texted Carson back an emphatic yes.
“Hey,” she said as she approached, nerves clanging.
Carson’s bright olive eyes flicked up to hers, and he did a double take, standing up so fast his knees hit the table. Julie hid her smile. She was wearing her favorite black dress with faux-leather detail and big sparkly earrings. It looked like something Ava might wear.
“Hi.” He moved around the table to pull out her chair. “Um, you look fantastic.” She loved the way his accent drew out the vowels. Fan-tas-tic.
“Thanks. So do you.” He wore a gray blazer, distressed jeans, and a vintage T-shirt with a seventies-style graphic of a sunset over palm trees. Julie was acutely aware that every girl in the restaurant kept turning to ogle him, but she pretended not to notice.