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TellTophertogethome. Mr. Elliot’s response played on a loop inside my head as Topher drove in silence. While he was probably stewing over the missed opportunity for a kiss, I was internally freaking out over the possibility that his dad would make good on his promise.
He wouldn’t, I told myself. Mostly because I needed to hear it.
I glanced over at Topher out of the corner of my eye, and my thoughts drifted to the long string of texts on my phone. Maybe we were better off apart. After all, what would he think if he knew the truth? Would he see me or Julie as amazing, then? Or would he feel deceived, betrayed?
When we rounded the corner and passed the Stop and Shop convenience store, I straightened in my seat and stared out the window. My house was only a couple blocks away, and as we approached, I felt him watching me, but I said nothing.
When he pulled up to my house, he put the car in park, and I grabbed my bookbag in one hand, my cell in the other. Then because I couldn’t ignore him forever, I turned to him, wondering if this would be the last time I sat in his car. Homecoming was fast approaching and, even if his father didn’t “forbid” him from seeing me, then he’d know the truth. Part of me felt like I was just biding my time until the inevitable when this all blew up in my face, and I couldn’t help but wonder, if I told him the truth from the start, would I even be in this position?
“Thank you. For everything,” I said. “I had the best time.”
“Is it in your top ten best nights ever?”
He grinned, and I suddenly regretted not kissing him again. Even if it would’ve been a mistake, it was probably the last chance I’d ever have.
“Definitely top ten.” I flashed him a smile, even though I wasn’t feeling it, and placed my hand on the door handle. “Well, goodnight—”
“Wait. P,” he reached out, “before you go . . .”
“Yeah?” My pulse pounded.
“Can I get your number?”
There was a brief pause before his words registered, and my eyes widened. Fear rendered my voice useless as my mind raced, trying to come up with a plausible excuse for why I couldn’t do such a simple thing as give a friend my phone number.
“I mean, we’re working together after school several days a week now,” he said, obviously taking my silence as rejection. “And we’re friends, right?”
Did friends kiss friends like hekissedme?
The thought knocked me off track and a beat of silence passed before I realized he was still waiting for an answer. “Uh, yeah. Right. Friends,” I said in a brittle voice.
“So I only think it’s natural we’re able to get a hold of each other.”
I swallowed. “Um, I don’t usually give out my number.”
“P.” He rolled his eyes and wiggled his fingers, then pointed to the phone clutched in my hand. “Come on.”
“I’m not allowed to talk to boys.”
Topher snickered. “You’re so full of shit, P. Give me the phone.”
And when I hesitated, he lunged forward, reaching for it.
I pulled my arm back with a squeal, trying to keep it out of reach, but it was no use. The athlete in him was too strong. He was like a freaking monkey—too fast and his arms too long, and he caught me off guard.
His fingers wrapped around it, but I wouldn’t let go. Pulse pounding like a jackhammer in my chest, he began to peel my fingers off one by one, like the arms of a starfish.
A grunt of desperation bubbled from my chest. If he took my phone and opened up my texts or sent one from me to him to snag my number, I’d be screwed. He’d see that I’m Julie, and there wasn’t an excuse in the world that would save me.
The phone pulled free from my grip.
This wasn’t how he was supposed to find out.
“Ah-hah!” he crooned.
“Hey!”
He reached out and placed one hand over my shoulder. “Relax. This’ll only hurt a little.”
