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“Si-mon.” Sienna always drags it out, making my name sound like two separate words. And she kind of sighs when she says the first syllable—don’t know if that’s her idea of a joke or something. “Please tell me you’re coming to the game tonight.”
My instinct is to walk straight into school, breeze right past little Miss Mason so fast she feels the arctic chill I’m giving off, but screw that. These are my friends. Not changing my routine on account of her. Instead, I drag my eyes over the length of Sienna’s body. “I’m considering it, but I, uh, might need some persuading.”
Sienna pushes off the wall and walks up to me, leaving less than a foot of space between us. I glance over at Charlotte. Eyes fixed on me, she’s reaching her hand up absently, a silent request for the girl to stop braiding her hair.
Like what you see, sweetheart?I’ve caught her checking me out once or twice. All doe-eyed and eager—she’s no different from the rest. The cold look I always shoot back is meant to tell her:Not if you were the last girl on earth.And now I’ve got her where I want her: front row center, watching my performance. The cold-hearted side of me is getting off on it, on hurting her, but I’m the one who’s left damn near aching.
I haven’t been able to get this girl out of my head all week. Something’s wrong there. I’m at war with myself, furious with the part of me that’s even curious as to why she needed to buy that lock, for caring even the slightest bit.
I followed her into the lunchroom on Monday without giving my body permission to move in that direction. And when I cut the line, shooting the boy behind me a warning look, I stood so close to Charlotte that I could practically feel the heat radiating off her. She jumped when I spoke to her, stammered her words a little bit. I was rude to her, same as always, when I had no right to be.
And here I stand, having thought about her every damn day this week. Knowing they’ll be no reprieve once school breaks for the weekend because I’ll be watching her from across the street, staring into that diner. She’s turning me into something weak and pathetic.
Sienna’s finger, now wedged between my pursed lips, brings me back to the present. “Isaid, I’m very persuasive when I need to be.”
I put my hand over hers, drawing her finger away gently. “I know that.”
Sienna’s eyes are searching mine, looking for something I don’t have to give her. Once upon a time, I was into her. Sienna’s a good person, kind to others as far as I can tell, she’s pretty and she’s got a brain in her head. Back at the start of the school year we hooked up a few times, nothing too serious. One night we were making out, stopping when it got to that point where she needed to stop. After, we stretched out in the flatbed of my truck, looking up at the moon, passing a joint back and forth as we talked about nothing and everything. Once Sienna shared her hopes and dreams with me, her version of happily ever after, any desire I felt for her shriveled up and died.
I’m leaving here.
I have it all planned out.
So anyone who thinks happiness resides in this little backwoods corner of Pennsylvania, white picket fence, two kids, chairing the freaking PTA and running bake sales? Not for me. And given that a whopping sixteen percent of people in this county hold a bachelor’s degree—true, I looked it up—there’s always the chance a girl like Sienna would be fixing to start in on those plans sooner rather than later.
No thank you.
“I’m sure I’ll run into you at some point. Garth and I are responsible for getting the kegs over to the party later on.” I mention my friend’s name on purpose. Garth has a thing for Sienna, so anything I can do to turn her head in his direction, I’m happy to oblige.
“You and Garth should come to the game first, though.”
Upon hearing his name, he saunters over. “Where do you want me, sweetheart?”
Sienna looks to Garth and flashes him a smile. “Iwantyou boys to come see our half-time show tonight.”
“Think I’d miss you dancing around in that cute little outfit?” He pushes me back square in the chest, knocking me a step off balance. “I don’t know about this faggot, but I’ll be there.”
Garth doesn’t mean to be a dick—not all the time, anyway. He’s just a clumsy giant who doesn’t know his own strength. And I choose to let the gay thing slide as well. Sienna is still smiling his way, meaning there’s a chance she might be off my back for good, and I’ve recently decided that correcting someone for a gay slur in this ass backwards corner of the world generally isn’t worth the effort.
I did go to the basketball game. Knew I was going even before Sienna brought it up. I heard the girls talking about it yesterday, razzing each other about whose performance was going to kill it, cheerleaders versus dance team. I talk a good game, even when I’m just talking to myself in my own head, but I knew I’d be there. The chance to see Charlotte was a draw in and of itself, but to see Charlotte dancing? Yeah, wild horses and all that.
Not that I know anything about dancing, but she was the best one out there. I was by the exit, tucked off to the side. I had a clear view of her, but she couldn’t have seen me. Out there she looked confident, like she was born to move to the music that way. God, she was so beautiful I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
So I was a frustrated, broody bastard by the time everyone started crowding into Tyler’s place later that night, convinced I should have just stayed home. Unlike most of these clowns, I need to be up bright and early. I was having my two beers and then bailing. But then she walked in with Sienna and Skylar. She’d washed off her makeup and changed out of the little outfit she was sporting during their show, but the sight of her still made me sweat. I could feel her eyes on me throughout the night, too. It made me self-conscious. I was relieved when I looked around at one point and didn’t see her. I wanted her home, safe, out of reach from the one or two untrustworthy boys here who wouldn’t hesitate to look upon her as easy prey.
I’m thankful for the blast of cold air that hits my face when I leave the cramped trailer. I nearly trip over Charlotte, who’s holding her friend’s hair away from her face, rubbing her back and whispering soothing words as her friend dry heaves. She’s being nothing but kind and generous, but I can’t help myself. I’m angry. This girl is taking hold of me and I do not welcome the feeling.
“Let me guess, first party and you drank yourselves senseless. Not very original.”
Charlotte fixes me with a glare and hisses, “Do you mind?” Then she gestures with her chin, dismissing me. “Keep walking.”
Her friend may be shitfaced, but Charlotte is clear-eyed and lucid. Hmm. She’s got her hands full because unless she drove here herself, no one inside is fit to take them home. And she’s a ways from home. Has to make it all the way over to the right side of the tracks. Boo freaking hoo.
Aw, shit. I can’t seem to move. I’m just standing in place, flipping my key chain around my index finger, listening to her friend make these disgusting belching puke noises.
I cave. “Do you need me to help get her home?”
As her friend flops down on the bottom step and says, “Yeah, I gotta get home,” Charlotte squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head.
