“That’s really nice,” I said, running fingers through my hair and looking up at the empty sky. I knew that if I looked at him, I would soften, I would give in, and I couldn’t afford that. “But—”
“Listen,” Grant said. I felt his hands grip mine and looked down to find his face inches away. I remembered the last time he was this close and felt my whole body flush. “I’m a big boy. I been knocked down before, and I’ll be knocked down again. I can handle things that ain’t simple, and I can handle things that’re hard. I want you, and whatever it is about you that you think makes you so complicated couldn’t make me want you less.”
I opened my mouth to speak, to protest all the reasons why this was a bad idea—why it might be harder than he thought to get close to me, how it could end in both of us getting hurt—but nothing came.
“I’m gonna kiss you now,” he said softly. “Is that okay?”
My head made just the slightest up-and-down motion before he brought his lips to mine and pulled my hips toward his. He had been right, I realized; it felt like sitting in front of a fire, the warmth spreading across every inch of my skin.
9
I spent Saturday night with the girls in Layla’s bedroom—which had an actual four-poster bed with sheer white drapes—trying on makeup and clothes, gossiping, and posting our most vamped-up shots to Instagram. We ended the night getting sodas at Walmart, which was the only place in town still open by then. I wondered why the girls left their makeup on, then learned the answer when we came outside and found a group of kids from our school hanging out at the edge of the parking lot, cases of beers in the backs of their pickup trucks. I didn’t talk to many people, but I also didn’t feel uncomfortable, and Layla made it very clear to everyone I was a member of their group. It was one of the best Saturday nights I could remember. The only way it could’ve been better was if Grant had been there.
I slept deep and easy once I finally got home, which was rare for me. My phone chirped and I slowly rose from bed on stiff, creaking arms, blinking and groaning against the warm morning light. The phone chirped again. I slapped at it once, missed, and got it on the second try.
“Hello?” I croaked without bothering to check who was calling.
“Mornin’, Amanda!” Anna said in a voice that was excessively cheerful, even for her.
“Mm,” I groaned, stretching my back. “What’s up?”
“Oh, nothin’,” Anna said. “Just we’re about to head to church and I thought you’d like to come.” There was a strange pause, and then she quickly added, “Plus my parents wanna meet you.”
“Why?” I said, as I slapped my feet on the floor. “I mean, I don’t really go to church.”
“Didn’t you say you were Baptist?”
“Lapsed,” I reminded her. “I haven’t been to church since, like, middle school.”
“Oh,” Anna said, all her cheer gone. I paused. She didn’t just sound disappointed, she sounded worried. “But that’s just more reason to come, ain’t it?”
“Listen, thanks for the offer,” I said, “but I really don’t—”
“No, Amanda,” Anna whispered suddenly, “you really need to meet my parents. Like, really, really. Please?”
My stomach sank as I realized she needed me. I thought it over for a moment before saying, “Okay. I’ll get dressed.”
“Yay!” Anna said, all the cheer flooding back. “We’ll be there in a half hour.”
She hung up before I could respond. I sighed and dug through my luggage. I only had one church-appropriate outfit: a pastel-pink floral short-sleeve dress with a wide purple belt that used to be Mom’s, twenty-five years and ten dress sizes before. I stepped into the living room and found Dad at the kitchen table, rubbing his temples over a plate of greasy bacon. His eyes were closed and his skin was pale and blotchy.
“That’s not very healthy,” I said, wondering what happened to the Dad who ate salad for practically every meal.
“Hangover,” he replied, his voice groaning like an old door. “Greasy food helps.” He cracked his eyes and stared at me for a moment. “What’s with the outfit?”
“I’m going to church,” I said, leaning against the counter and checking my phone. Dad let out a hoarse laugh but cut it short when I crossed my arms and looked down.