Finally, one of the guys comes over anyway, and that’s when I realize it’s not me he’s checking out. It’s Jon.
I’m surprised when Jon doesn’t let me go to talk to him. If anything, he pulls me closer. They talk a little about the game and he tells Jon congrats on the win.
“The enemy,” Jon says when he’s gone. “Linebacker for the other team.”
“He was cute.”
Jon kisses my cheek. “Not my type.”
My eyes widen. “Changing your mind?”
He shrugs. “Keeping it open.”
My phone buzzes a little after eleven and I pull it from my pocket. Destiny.
“Thought you’d be at Sam Hill tonight. Where are you?”
“Decided to go to a party with Jon instead.” Because there’s no way I’m ready to deal with whatever my mutinous hormones have going on for Bran right now. Especially with Destiny for an audience.
“As long as everything’s okay,” she says. “Also, I have great news. I was going to tell you when you got here, but since you’re not coming…Bran is going to drive you to L.A! How awesome is that?”
I feel that same electric jolt I felt when he suggested it. But I told him no. I think. The whole conversation yesterday kind of got swallowed by my panic attack and I don’t really remember how it was left.
“Tell him thanks, but I’ll figure something else out.”
“Lilah,” she says, exasperated, “it’s four days away. I can’t take the time off from work and I don’t want you going alone. This is the perfect solution.”
It is so far from perfect there’s not even a word for how un-perfect it is. But then I really hear what she just said. “Wait…you’re not going?”
“If we’re going to be able to make those payments on the car, I can’t skip a day.”
I open my mouth to say I shouldn’t go either, then, but I can’t force the words from my mouth. This is the biggest thing to ever happen to me.
Well…the biggest thing that doesn’t involve blaring sirens and the destruction of an entire city block, anyway.
I look pleadingly at Jon and he looks a question back. I’ve already asked him if he’d play hooky and he surprised me by saying he would…except they’re in the middle of playoffs, and if he misses practice his coach would have his ass in a sling.
He says that a lot, which makes me curious about the boys’ locker room. I picture slings hanging from the ceiling like something out of Christian Grey’s red room of pain.
“Okay,” I hear myself say.
“I’m so happy we found a solution, Lilah. I would have felt guilty for the rest of my life if we couldn’t have gotten you there.” There’s a crash and the breaking of glass, then Destiny’s “Shit!” through the line. “I’ve got to go,” she says and the line goes dead.
Jon presses his forehead to my temple. “You look like you swallowed a porcupine.”
“I got a ride to L.A. for Lo’s final.”
“AHH!” he wails banshee style in my ear, grabbing me with both hands and shaking.
“Yeah,” I say, extricating myself from his grasp before he gives me whiplash.
“This calls for a celebration.” He drags me to the keg and pumps the tap, then fills two cups. He hands one to me and holds his up ceremoniously. “To famous friends and their coattails.”
I tap my cup against his. “So now I’m set. Who’s coattails are you going to ride?”
That rubber grin stretches his mouth. “Yours.”
?
When Jon drops me at the apartment, Destiny’s still at work. I could probably stretch my curfew now that she’s working nights, but I don’t really feel the need.
But if Destiny’s not even taking the day off to come to L.A., I can’t justify quitting the bar. So, if she hasn’t already spilled my secret, tomorrow I’m going to suck it up and tell Bran the truth: he’s a chaperone, not a date.
Chapter 17
Bran
This is fucking torture. It’s been two days since Lilah flipped her shit on the sidewalk and my mind has been blowing gaskets trying to figure out what made her come unglued like that. She’s usually so composed. So confident. All kinds of scenarios are shuffling around in my head. Something with her boyfriend, maybe? Or maybe something from before, with the parents? But nothing really takes hold and forms into a solid possibility for her reaction.
All I know is she seemed suddenly younger and more vulnerable, the fear that Destiny would find out about us bringing out something childlike in her that I’d never seen there before.
And I know I didn’t imagine it when she won’t look at me when she comes in tonight.
Something’s going on with her, and I’m not sure I’m going to like what it is.
Destiny’s in the kitchen when Lilah slides onto her stool.
I mix her drink as she unpacks her guitar, then push it across to her and lean on my elbows. “So, you pumped for Tuesday?”
Her eyes flick to me then back. “I thought I told you I’d find another way.”
I shrug. “Been looking for an excuse for a road trip. You’re it.”