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Purposeful strides eat up the distance between us quickly.
I don’t hesitate once I reach her, either. “I need to talk to you,” I announce.
The table of mostly juniors falls silent. Her friendship with Sydney means most of Cassia’s friends are a year younger. I was her strongest connection to our grade, up until I stopped inviting her to hang out.
I ignore the lingering guilt associated with that decision and focus instead on the prime view of Cassia’s shoulders rising and tensing before her head turns around. I keep my gaze on her, leaving no question about who I’m talking to.
“Why? What’s going on? Is something wrong?” Sydney fires the questions at me rapid fire, glancing between me and her best friend with an expression of concern.
“Everything is fine, Syd. I need help on a Calculus assignment, is all.” I keep my eyes on Cassia the whole time, not missing the way hers narrow as I offer that made-up explanation.
It sounds plausible, at least. I’ve never been an honors student. Always been purposefully lazy when it comes to school. When it comes to a lot of things.
“Ask the teacher.”
Everyone else at the table looks surprised by Cassia’s curt answer. I’m not. I already figured out she’s avoiding me. That she’s regretful or embarrassed or both. And I already knew there’s some fire hiding beneath her nice girl exterior.
“It’s due next period,” I lie, banking on her not knowing my class schedule. I already had math this morning.
“He needs to pass to play…” Sydney says.
Sweet, understanding Sydney, who looks confused by the fact Cassia is so reluctant to help me. Seconds tick by, the number of eyes on us multiplying with each one that passes.
Finally, Cassia stands, abandoning her half-eaten sandwich. “Fine.”
She starts toward an empty table across the aisle. I rest a hand on her lower back and guide her toward one of the doors that leads out to the senior courtyard instead. It’s getting too cold to eat out here. There are only a few people sitting in the courtyard, all bundled in coats neither of us are wearing. But I’m not worried about anyone overhearing us, which was a concern in the crowded cafeteria.
“Was that really necessary?” she asks as soon as we’re outside.
I shove my hands in the pockets of my jeans, leaning against one of the empty picnic tables. It’s chilly out here, but it’s peaceful too. Fresh air and open space. “You tell me. How was yournapyesterday?”
Cassia scoffs as I mention the excuse her mom fed me when I tried to have this conversation yesterday, looking away at the massive oak planted in the center of the courtyard. The wind picks up, pulling a few pieces of hair out of her ponytail and dragging leaves off the branches.
“You needed help with Calculus then too?” she asks. Her tone is mocking. Annoyed.
It makes me want to smile. I like her like this. Raw and real.
“Nope. Did all my homework yesterday, actually.”
She meets my gaze. “You always were a good liar.”
“You wanted me to tell Sydney what happened Friday night instead?”
Her cheeks flush. Maybe from the wind that’s still blowing, but I’m betting it’s from the mention of what took place between us in my driveway. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“No?” I take a step closer, forcing her head to tilt back in order to hold my gaze. “You climb into a lot of guys’ laps? No big deal?”
I’m hoping the questions are rhetorical. A part of me is really wondering, though. I don’t know her as well as I used to. Maybe I’m a fool for thinking she wouldn’t have instigated any sort of intimacy between us unless it meant something to her.
Cassia’s front teeth sink into her bottom lip, chasing away the pink until she releases it to speak and color rushes back. “So what if I do?”
“Now who’s lying?” I ask, unprepared to deal with the possibility she’s not.
Cassia shrugs. Indifferent. Maddening. There’s no trace of duplicity on her face, and it pisses me off to a degree I’m not expecting.
She’s not yours, I remind myself.
Never has been.
