Her lips flatten into a thin line and she moves aside a wisp of thin curtain, feigning interest below. “You know, I had to hold Justin off. He was ready to storm in here, go all caveman and throw you over his shoulder if he had to, so you would listen. I thought it’d be better if we talked this out, girl to girl.”
She can’t be serious. Are we supposed to negotiate visitation rights? In my opinion, she can have him. “I have nothing to say to you,” I tell her honestly, but when she swings me an amused look, I feel my cheeks burn hot. “Nothing else to say, I mean.”
“Well, suit yourself. I have plenty.” And, with that, she strolls toward her bed and plops onto the mattress.
For a long moment, she doesn’t say anything else, she just sits there watching me roll my suitcase back and forth along the hardwood floor. The inhuman sounds of breathing floating up from the car seat ratchet up the tension. My leg muscles twitch, and the insides of my cheeks ache as I mutilate them into hamburger meat in effort to keep from speaking up. But I refuse to budge or break the stand-off.
I’ve already said what I needed to say. More than I ever thought I would. Now, it’s her turn.
Lauren’s gaze zeroes in on me. “Nothing happened,” she finally says. “Either time.”
“Wait… what?” So much for not talking. Shaking my head, I reach a hand back and guide myself onto the bed. “I don’t understand. What game are you trying to play here? I saw what I saw—both times. Despite what you may think, I’m not a freaking idiot.”
Yes, that’s exactly what I’ve been calling myself, but she doesn’t need to know that.
Lauren sighs. “I never said you were. I know what you saw three years ago. You saw exactly what Justin and I wanted you to see.” Her words bring an itch to the back of my brain, like something I’m supposed to remember. “That kiss behind the concession stand? It was staged, Peyton. I kissed his cheek, but that was it. Justin didn’t kiss me back and he never touched me…” She winces a bit and corrects herself. “Well, not until junior year. But by then, you two were long over.”
I stare at her, open-mouthed, words no longer making sense.
“I won’t pretend I care about what happened,” she continues, grabbing a purple squishy pillow she’d brought from home. “But Justin asked me for a favor, and I’m not in a habit of telling that boy no.” She winks, like we’re sharing a secret, and I fist my hands in my lap. “Anyhoo, he said he needed you to think he cheated, but the second we got to the ball field, he got really weird. Fidgety and looking green. Honestly, I thought he’d call the whole thing off. But that’s when you showed up, so, I gladly played my part.”
She squeezes the soft pillow in her hands. “Now, admittedly, I had my own reasons to break you two up, but, whatever. I kissed him. On the cheek. And sadly, that’s all it took for you to buy it.” She smiles like she’s proud—typical Lauren behavior. But I catch the flare of shame in her eyes.
“How do I know you’re not lying?” I ask.
Honestly, I want to believe her. I mean, of course I do. Believing means I wasn’t pathetically blind in the past. It means I didn’t miss Justin cheating on me right under my nose.
But, it also means that he set me up, that he lied to me, and that he hurt me on purpose.
“Damn girl,” she says with a laugh, “my lipstick wasn’t even smeared! I mean, I’m good, but I’m not that good. If we really went at it, I would’ve had pink crap all over me. It wouldn’t have been pretty.” Then with a wicked grin she adds, “But it would have been hella fun.”
Like an old movie, I watch that reel rewind in my mind. I freeze frame it on Justin’s face, and note the pink lipstick imprint on his cheek—but his lips… his lips are stain free.
How did I miss that?
I blink my eyes to clear the memory, and a thousand questions take its place.
“Then why? Why go through all that trouble? Why not just tell me he didn’t want to be with me anymore?” I widen my eyes, totally lost. “And then… what, did he start to change his mind? Why?”
“All excellent questions,” Lauren says, dropping the smile. “Things you should ask him.” Her face turns serious as she tosses her pillow back at the head of the bed and pushes to her feet. “I figured you wouldn’t even get to that point, though, if I didn’t first tell you the truth.”
She grabs the handle of the car seat and sashays toward the door—really, there’s no other way to describe her walk—and I find my voice just as her hand closes around the knob. “Lauren?”
When she turns to look at me, I shrug. “Why tell me anything? You and I aren’t friends.”
“No,” she answers. “But Justin and I are. He’s a good guy, one of the best, and he deserves to be happy. For some crazy reason, he gets that with you.”