“I didn’t realize you were still looking,” I say in a carefultone.
“We haven’t evenstartedlooking. This is just the preplanning. I’ve combed through all the true-crime sites, watched all the videos. I read the confession, the transcript of Uncle Psycho’s sentencing hearing. I even read the prison letters he wrote to his kid. Oh my God, Ryan, you should read them. There’s one where he sounds like he’s on acid or something, just rambling on while he tries to convince her he didn’t rape those women.”
My stomach churns again. This time it has nothing to do with my impending date.
“That’s my cousin,” Jasmine suddenly says. “Like, since I started reading up on this case, it keeps hitting me, you know? Con and I have a whole-ass cousin out there we’ve never even met. Mom said she was adopted after Aunt Sarah died. Poof! Never to be seen again.”
I’m on the verge of throwing up. I take a breath, suckingoxygen into my lungs, hoping it will ease the nausea. The guilt that now burns in my gut.
Jasmine notes my expression and grins wryly. “I bet you’re relieved to be on the Shipley side of the family, eh? Mom’s side issofucked up.”
Eager to put an end to this conversation, I do something desperate: I consult my cousin for a fashion opinion.
“Do I look okay?” I ask, fixing my flannel.
“No. At least show a little skin.”
She should know by now that destroyed jeans, flannels and hoodies, crop tops, and combat boots are my style. So far, it hasn’t turned Everett off in the least. Still, I take her advice and unbutton the flannel, leaving it open to reveal the midriff top and a sliver of my belly. “Happy?”
If she is, she doesn’t look it. When the doorbell rings, she races off to answer it.
I find my aunt, uncle, and Jasmine chatting with Everett in the living room as if he’s a lost member of the Shipley family. They clearly love him, and he’s effortlessly charming around them. At dinner, when I told them I was going out with him, they both beamed. I guess their strict dating policy for their kids doesn’t apply to me, which is a relief because I wasn’t looking forward to a lecture. But all I got was “He’s a very nice boy,” from Maggie, while Uncle Dan added, “Hell of a football player.”
Prince Charming that he is, Everett opens the door of his pickup for me and, when I’m getting in, says, “You look really pretty tonight.”
I don’t look any different than I do in school, but I appreciate the sentiment. “Thanks.”
The truck isn’t new, but it’s well-kept and actually clean, which is saying a lot for a teenage boy. Country music plays at a low volume. I can’t make out the song, but it reminds me of my father. He always used to have country music on in the house.
My expression must reveal something, because Everett turns it down and says, “What’s wrong? You don’t like country?”
“I don’t know. We don’t listen to much of it in All—” I bite my tongue. “In Europe. It’s not really popular. You like it?”
He nods, turning to grin at me. “You know, cowboys out West used to sing songs to their cattle in order to prevent them from stampeding. That’s part of where it came from. It soothes the savage beast, I guess you could say.”
I manage a smile.I wish it had worked that way for my dad.
As I watch the little evergreen air freshener swaying from the rearview mirror, I say, “So are you going to tell me where we’re going?”
“Nope. I told you it’s a surprise.”
This had better not be the Starling make-out spot like Jasmine predicted. But when my stomach flutters at the thought, I suddenly realize maybe it’s not entirely unappealing, the idea of kissing this guy. As long as it’sjustkissing and he doesn’t expect anything more than that. The first time I had sex with Marco, it was awkward and embarrassing. But kissing? I can handle that.
I clasp my hands in my lap, twisting my fingers together.
“You look nervous,” Everett says. His smile broadens. “Don’t worry, it’s perfectly normal. I have that effect on girls.”
The cocky comment succeeds in relaxing me. I laugh, rolling my eyes at him. “Uh-huh. I’m sure you do.”
“Seriously, though, you good?”
“I guess I am a little nervous. I’ve never actually been on a real date before.”
“Wait, really?”
“Really,” I confirm, my cheeks heating up. “I mean, I had a sort of boyfriend back at my old school. But we never went out on, like,dates.”
“So what did you two do?”
