Page 34 of Regretting Youu

Miller smiles gently at me, and I don’t know if the weed is finally kicking in or if his smile is making me light headed. Either way, it beats the headache I’ve had for five days from all the crying.

“If you’re back together with Shelby, why are you checking on me right now? Pretty sure she wouldn’t approve of this.”

A flash of guilt crosses his face. He grips his steering wheel, then slides his hands down it. “I’d feel even guiltier if I didn’t check on you.”

I’d really like to ruminate on that comment, but our conversation is ruined by the intrusion of a car that pulls up next to us. I glance out my open window, then sit up straight. “Crap.”

“Get in the car, Clara.” My mother’s words are firm and loud, but it could be because the windows are down and she pulled up so close to Miller’s truck that I’m not sure I’ll be able to open the door.

“Is that your mother?” Miller whispers.

“Yep.” But oddly it doesn’t faze me as much as it probably should. Maybe the weed really did help, because I kind of want to laugh that she’s here. “I forgot we have that app. She can track me anywhere.”

“Clara,” my mother says again.

Miller raises an eyebrow. “Good luck.”

I shoot him a tight-lipped smile and then open my door. I was right—I can’t get out. “You parked too close, Mom.”

My mother inhales a slow breath and then puts the gearshift in reverse. When I’m clear to open my door, I don’t even look back at Miller. I walk to my mother’s car and get inside. She says nothing as she begins to drive away from the theater.

Nothing until the words “Who was that?”

“Miller Adams.”

I can feel her disapproval, despite her silence. A few seconds later, she swings her head in my direction. “Oh my God. Are you high?”

“Huh?”

“Were you just getting high with that guy?”

“No. We were just talking.” I don’t sound convincing.

She makes a hmph sound and then says, “You smell like weed.”

“Do I?” I sniff my dress, which is stupid, because anyone who knows they don’t smell like weed wouldn’t sniff themselves to see if they do smell like weed.

Her jaw clenches even tighter when we make eye contact. Something has completely given me away. I flip down the visor and look at my bloodshot eyes. Wow, that happened fast. I flip up the visor.

“I can’t believe you skipped your father’s funeral to get high.”

“I stayed for most of it.”

“It was your father’s funeral, Clara!”

She is so pissed right now. I sigh and stare out my window. “How long am I grounded for?”

She releases a frustrated breath. “I’ll let you know after I talk to your fath—” Her mouth clamps shut when she realizes what she was about to say.

I’m not certain because I’m staring out my window, but I think she cries the entire way home.