Thinking of the money she’d paid me in her room, thinking of her taking me to Michael’s bed.
“Look, I do stupid stuff sometimes. I don’t know why. I . . .” Her voice trailed off, palm scrubbing her thigh. “It was like revenge. You know?”
“What—sleeping with me or doing it in his bed?”
“Both.”
Smoke plumed out of my mouth. “Glad to be of service.”
“But it wasn’t just that. I mean, it was more than that.”
“Whatever you say, princess.”
Her perfect eyebrows lowered. She made a little grunt of annoyance.
I touched her shoulder; let my hand rub her hot skin. “It’s okay. You had your reasons. It’s not like I didn’t get anything out of it.”
She knocked my hand off. “I wasn’t just using you.”
I shrugged. “Sure.”
“I wasn’t.”
“I heard you. You weren’t just using me. Using me, sure. But not just using me.”
She let out a breath like I’d punched her.
I nodded and took the last drag, squinting like I was really thinking about it. And I guess a part of me was.
A tear slid down her cheek. “He scares me sometimes.” The last word added, like she wanted to believe it wasn’t all the time. “He used to make me feel safe. He’s not always like this. I thought he’d protect me. Somehow.”
Sometimes. Always. Somehow. I sighed. Didn’t know what to say. Because I wanted to believe it. Knowing even if it was true, it wouldn’t be enough. Because it still hurt.
She was studying me—must’ve seen it wheeling in my eyes, because she reached out again. Touched my arm. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Please believe me.”
“Why should I?” Her hand fell off my arm when I pitched the cigarette butt into the parking lot.
Her voice was small. “Because I like you.”
I tried to ignore the stupid skip my heart gave. Closed my eyes instead of looking into hers.
“I like you, too,” I said, surprising myself. “It’s okay.” Meaning it this time.
She stepped into me. Laid her arms gently over my shoulders—like we were at some dippy junior high dance. I put my hands on her waist.
“It hurts to look at you,” she said, frowning at my face.
Her eyes were an ocean.
I smiled. “It hurts to look at you, too.”
She grinned and pushed her body against me. “Well, that’s a pain I can do something about.”
Her kiss was deep but gentle. The way everything should be.
CHAPTER TWENTY
I confronted Michael privately after his football practice let out. I wanted to beat the living crap out of him, but I wanted the money more. So I told him if he mentioned anything about our parking lot conversation, or my dad, or if he talked to Mr. Stewart again, it was over and he could face his reckoning alone. Which he might be doing anyway. I was making no promises.
It was like truce talks after a battle. He denied talking to Mr. Stewart. Said it was maybe someone else in class or at school, and had I ever thought about that possibility? I left it alone. As long as my message got through.
Cyndra had given me the clothes she’d bought, and I put them in the locker room of the old gym. I changed Friday morning before joining them in the parking lot. No one asked where I’d been all week, and no one mentioned the bruises. The weekend came and went and nothing happened. I spent most of it playing video games at Clay’s.
On Monday, Nico and Spud were waiting for me as I crossed the athletic field. Nico shifted his knit cap, olive green today. He thumbed his nose, a gap-tooth smile spreading.
“We found out who’s dealing.”
His face, the irrepressible, impish grin, told me I knew who it was.
“Dude. Everyone thinks it’s you. But it’s not.” Spud held up his hands like he meant to stop a presumed cutting denial. “We know that.” Rotating a hand at the three of us. The privileged circle of knowledge.
I shook out a cigarette. Lit it. Waited.
“It’s Cyndra.”
Smoke gouged my throat.
“What?”
“It’s true,” he said. “She’s dealing to everyone, but real sly. Hiding behind you, saying she’s getting it from you. Ain’t that something?”
She liked me. She wasn’t just using me.
Slurry filled my chest. Ice cold and rigid. It didn’t take a genius to tell whom she was really dealing for.
Something buzzed in my ears and under my heart, like a fuse, disbelief and numbness sparking, devouring only to detonate.
I thanked Nico and Spud. Let them throw one-arm hugs on me. Slapped hands.
Then I went to the parking lot.
Cyndra was in her car, laughing with Samantha and Monique, waiting for Michael to arrive. Since I hadn’t gone to the old gym to change, I must have beaten him to school.
I rapped a knuckle on her window. She took one look at my face and climbed out.
“What is it?” She touched my arm. I didn’t say anything, just turned and walked away. She followed.
I went to the old gym. For privacy. For time. To get away from the bite in the air that seared my lungs with cold.
On the track that looped the court, I turned on her.
“You’re dealing for Michael.” Not a question. “Why are you saying it’s for me?” Making myself stop from asking the next question, the question underneath. What are you doing with me?
“I never say it’s for you.” She reached out. “I just don’t say it isn’t for you.”
I shook her off. “Big difference in results.”
She shook her head, fast and tight. “You don’t understand. I’m scared.”
My heartbeat sped. The slurry in my heart sludged into my veins. For the first time, I looked at her. Really looked.
There were smudges under her eyes. Sleepless circles, drawn over with makeup. Her lips were chapped—the queen of lip gloss. Like she’d been chewing on them. Little webs of strain tensed the muscles of her face.
“Is he hurting you?”