This surprises me, mostly because I’ve never heard him talk badly about Kassie. In fact, I assumed the opposite. That he’d encourage her not to be friends with me. I blink at him. “Really? Why?”
“You were an amazing friend to her.” I watch the green strobe light dance across his face as he finds the words. “You were always there for her. Always stood up for her, helped her pass high school. Come on, you know it’s true,” he says when I shake my head. “You did all her homework for her. She cheated off you all the time.”
“Okay, in her defense, she was a good friend to me too,” I point out. Aside from the fact that she never let me take photos on my good side. Or her inability to text me back in a reasonable time period. Or her inability to keep even the tiniest secret. “She’s always honest with me. Gives great advice. And sure, she always put Ollie first. But can I really blame her? He was her boyfriend and—”
“You deserve better friends,” he cuts in. This hits me in the gut. No one has ever said anything like that to me before. “Even if you are insufferable,” he adds with a laugh, pulling me closer. I actually like it. I want to be closer to him.
“As insufferable as you?”
“Not quite. But at least we can be insufferable together.”
I giggle into his chest, allowing myself to sag against him as the song comes to an end. When I dare to lift my face up, our eyes lock. It isn’t the intense staring contest we often find ourselves in. There are no daggers in his eyes. It’s something else, a softness I can’t quite pinpoint.
My body buzzes, and the sensation intensifies when he pulls my hips flush against his. My gaze drops to his mouth, and I can almost imagine myself popping onto my toes and brushing my lips against his. I wonder if he’d taste sweet, like the fruity punch we’ve been drinking all night.
He dips his chin, dropping his lips closer and closer until we’re exchanging short bursts of breath. But the moment my lips graze his, the song changes and the mood evaporates into dust and nothingness as the pack of students fills the dance floor again.
We stumble aside, the moment broken.
TWENTY-THREE
My ears are ringing by the time prom wraps up at eleven.
We only had one projectile vomiter, which our fellow chaperones deem a huge win.
“Nori texted me. She said Ollie’s is a little boring,” I tell Renner as we climb into the car. When he gives me a funny look, I’m quick to add, “Not that I don’t want to go over. I really want to go. I’m not ready to go home yet. Are you?”
Great. Now I’m babbling. This is new. I’ve never felt nervous or tongue-tied around Renner before. But after our almost-kiss on the dance floor, it’s like we’ve been tethered by an elastic band. And that band is now tight, wrought with tension. I wonder if he feels it too. Either way, I’m too much of an awkward potato to be alone with him much longer. Plus, I need a distraction from today.
Renner studies me. “You okay, Char?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You seem a little . . . off. More off than usual. And that’s saying a lot,” he adds teasingly.
“My dad died,” I say suddenly.
Renner does a double take, jaw falling open. “What?”
“Today when I saw Kassie . . . she told me the last time she saw us was at his funeral. Last year.”
He shakes his head in disbelief. “Fuck. Really?”
I nod.
“That explains why . . .” He runs his hand over his beard. “My mom said something about how cute it was that your mom is walking you down the aisle. I didn’t even think—” He pauses, frantic. “Are you okay? You know what? We should just go home.”
“No.”
“Char, you just found out your dad died. Why didn’t you tell me sooner? You shouldn’t have had to put on a happy face at prom—”
“No. Really, it’s fine. I mean . . . I cried in public over it. I don’t really have anything left,” I say honestly, grimacing at the memory of Kassie comforting me on the sidewalk. “If anything, I feel worse for my sisters. They knew him better than I did. I haven’t talked to him—really talked to him—in forever.”
“It doesn’t make it any less difficult.”
“Maybe I’m just in shock. Maybe there’s a part of me that still feels like this isn’t real, you know? Like we’ll magically go back to seventeen and forget all this ever happened.”
He contemplates, eyes trained out the windshield. “Maybe . . .”
“I killed the mood, didn’t I?”
“No! Not at all.”
I give him a look.
“I mean, okay. You totally did. Your dad dying is kind of . . .” He waves his hand, summoning the words.
“Tragic? Rock-bottom depressing?” I offer.
“To say the least.”
“Can we just . . . not talk about it tonight?” I ask, turning away from the pity in his eyes. The last thing I need is him treating me like I’m breakable.
“Sure thing. We could even . . . have fun . . . if you want to?” he offers, earnestly.
“I want to,” I say eagerly, clamping my eyes shut when the words come out. Should I really be out having fun after finding out my dad died? Probably not. But my brain still isn’t ready to process it.
“All right.” He purses his lips as he makes an effortless, one-handed turn toward Ollie’s neighborhood. He’s taken his suit jacket off, revealing a dress shirt pushed up to the elbows. His ropy forearms flex with the slightest turn of the wheel. “Brace yourself.”
“For what?”
“For the funnest night of your life,” he tells me confidently, reminding me he’s still seventeen years old inside, despite the fact that he now looks like a Greek god chiseled from stone.
“And what do you consider fun?”
“Dunno. Car hide-and-seek?”
“Car hide-and-seek,” I repeat. The last time we played, Renner and I got in a huge argument. Kassie and I were in her car, and Renner and Pete were in his van, racing to find Ollie and Andie’s hiding spot. Renner claims he won because he was first to reach the car, even though Kassie and I entered the parking lot first.
“What? Beats heading home to drink Sleepytime tea,” he teases.
I give him a funny look. “Hey, don’t knock Sleepytime tea. That’s the good stuff. And do you really think thirty-year-olds will want to play car hide-and-seek at eleven at night?”
Thirty-year-olds do, indeed, want to play car hide-and-seek. Then again, I’m fairly certain most people would follow Renner into a multilevel marketing scheme if they could.
Renner is fired up, drumming the steering wheel and tapping his knee impatiently as we wait for Ollie and Nori to text their first clue. He decides to stop at the Wendy’s drive-thru in the meantime.
“Want anything?” he asks as we pull up to the illuminated menu.
“Just fries, please.”
“What can I get you?” barks a scratchy, deep voice over the intercom. Whoever it is sounds like they could use a bubble bath, a meditation tape, and a good night’s rest.
Renner shoots me a funny smile. “Hey, how you doing tonight?”
“Um . . . okay,” the voice responds, taken aback.
“Good. Nice night, huh? I’m sure you’re looking forward to the end of your shift.”
“Yeah, actually. I get off in an hour.” The voice is smoother now.
“Cool. Well, I hope you have a great night. Before your shift ends, I’d like to order a medium chocolate Frosty and a large fry, please.”
“Sure thing. Drive up to the second window.”
The person on the intercom turns out to be a woman in her forties. She looks like she needs her chakras balanced by Kassie. Still, she manages to put a small smile on her face as Renner pays for our order.
“I gave you a large Frosty instead,” she tells Renner, handing it over with a small, grease-stained brown bag.
“Hey, thanks, Stacy,” he says, eyeing her name tag. “You have yourself a good night.”
“How do you do that?” I ask, shooting Renner a pointed look as he dumps the hot bag in my lap.
“Do what?”
I wave my hand vaguely in his direction as I stuff my hand in the bag. “Whatever magic you do with people.”
He pulls into a parking space ahead. “You mean like being a decent human?”