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“For invading my personal space?”
His lips quirk. “Two seats are meant fortwo people, you know.”
Whatever expression I make in response coaxes a full-blown smile out of him.
“That’s not what I’m apologizing for, though. I’m sorry about Monday night at Graham’s. I shouldn’t have asked about why you stopped playing. It’s none of my business. It wasn’t then, and it isn’t now.”
Ihatethat he’s apologizing. Not only because it’s uncharacteristic, but because he looks like he actually means it. Earnest and sincere. But what Ireallyhate is that it forces me to acknowledge that I overreacted, and the only reason I did is because Holden has a much stronger hold on me than I would like.
The truth is, heisthe main reason that I stopped playing. I associate the sport with him. But that’s not something I planned to ever acknowledge, and I hated that he was asking me to.
“It’s fine.” I look out the window at the high school’s parking lot.
We haven’t even left yet. There’s a four-hour drive ahead before we’re in the city. Four hours is a long time to sit next to someone you were hoping to ignore.
This trip is mandatory, otherwise I wouldn’t be here. It’s a final attempt to impart wisdom on the graduating class; to give us a glimpse of freedom before we’re set loose on the world next spring. That’s the school line, at least. Every student knows it’s an opportunity to let loose under limited supervision. Rumor is a girl got pregnant on the trip a few years ago.
A warm hand grasps my chin and turns it away from the window. I suck in a sharp breath at the contact, and I know Holden doesn’t miss the inhale. His thumb runs an inch across the edge of my jaw before dropping. Awareness trickles through my bloodstream from the one spot he was just touching.
“I mean it; I’m sorry. It’s just something I’ve wondered about for a while. That seemed like a good moment to ask. It wasn’t—obviously.”
My stupid heart latches ontosomething I’ve wondered about for a while. To the indication that Holden has given some thought to me since he all but ended our friendship.
“I overreacted.” I don’t elaborate on why and he doesn’t ask.
“I’ll move, if you want.”
“It’s fine.”
“Okay.” He leans back in the seat and then picks up my phone and starts scrolling through the music app I have open.
I’m flustered and frazzled. He’s too close. Too much.
“What are you doing?”
Holden doesn’t answer at first, continuing to scroll down the screen. Finally, he looks up. “You have good taste in music,” he tells me. “Guys, not so much.”
I take that comment to mean he saw Harrison talking to me before we boarded the buses. “What does that say about you?”
He blinks, like he can’t believe I said it. I can’t believe I did either.
“Maybe I’m talking about me.”
We remain locked in a stare-off until the bus’s loudspeaker crackles to life. “Last call, everyone! We’ll be departing in the next few minutes. Please make sure you have everything and that all bags are stowed properly. Mr. Harris will be distributing folders closer to our arrival to the city. Those will contain an updated itinerary for the weekend, along with your room assignments. Those are final. No room-swapping.”
There’s no grumbling. Switching rooms is a notorious part of this weekend. Nothing much the chaperones can do to prevent it, really, once keys are handed out. I’m apprehensive about sleeping in a strange place I’m sharing with a stranger, but, withthe exception of Holden, virtually everyone in the senior class feels like a stranger.
There’s some saying about doing something every day that scares you. It sounds like a stressful way to live, but there’s probably some truth to it as well. Leaving your comfort zone is healthy, and this trip is definitely far beyond mine.
“Wake me up when we get there, okay?”
I glance over at Holden, who’s dropped my phone and is now reclining his seat as far back as it’ll go. His long legs get stretched under the row in front of us and he tugs the brim of his ball cap down, so it covers most of his eyes.
“Okay.”
I study his relaxed profile for a few seconds, then turn to look out the window again. The bus pulls away from the high school, the familiar brick façade fading from sight as we turn onto the main road headed toward the highway.
I want to ask Holden what he’s doing next to me. I want to ask him what this means. I want to ask him why he kissed me in eighth grade and hasn’t acknowledged it in the four years since.
