Safety skirts passed those tests ahead of time, but that didn’t stop the blip. I filled my lungs, sucked in a breath, and opened my eyes again, focusing on his face and the odd look he gave me. Oh, good lord, could he see something different.
I looked down at my arms and rubbed a hand across my stomach—I swear my stomach was bigger than it had been this morning, but my skirt wouldn’t fit then, right? Right? It had to be fine. Glancing up, I saw he was looking at my face. Maybe it was my oversized head he’d notice.
“Are you okay?” He was looking me right in the eye. It was a sincere question.
I smoothed my hand down my sides again, trying not to yank on the skirt’s hem, and nodded.
I’ll admit I was surprised when he didn’t jump on my answer and push his case for a ride. He continued looking at me as if he’d see a different answer. He leaned forward, closing the space between us.
I suddenly felt glad for that annoying kitchen island, even if I’d walked into its corner six million times before. I’d never noticed this level of intensity coming off him, but I guess that’s because it had never been focused at me before.
It messed with me…in too many of the expected ways.
Hot guys are not an accessory. Yup, I’ll just keep telling myself that. Dr. Meadows has made it very clear that tying my self-worth to boys is bad, bad, bad. She’d say I need to get validation somewhere besides having a hot guy on my arm.
But, with Chris the hotness was more. It was all about throwing my balance off. Of hitting me in weird places. He was so beautiful…perfectly sculpted…that my own perception of myself got kicked even further out of whack, totally taking me off guard. I wasn’t used to this happening with guys.
Usually, the comparison game only happened with girls. But, when faced with this much beauty, I was pretty much walking an edge.
An edge where I had to balance because there’s no way he’d be looking at me the same way. He’d never be able to see me…but that was okay. Actually, that was for the best. He was the Least Safe Boy on the Planet.
I stepped back—well, I stepped back in my mind.
“Okay.” He pulled back. “So, we’re on? I’ll ride with you. We’ll talk about studying later today. Good to go?”
I nodded again.
“Great.”
Great, I echoed in my head. Yeah, that was sarcasm. I might be able to edit my mouth, but there was no way I could keep it out of my head.
We both just stood there, looking at each other. Finally he said, “Do you have a bag or something.”
Wow. When did I get stupid? Everything just felt more without the meds.
That was the weird thing. Coming off them, not only did I have to process stuff I wouldn’t have noticed, wouldn’t have even felt for the last three years, but I also had to deal with everything being fresh. More.
And let me tell you, the emotions of your average American teen were insane. I mean, not clinically insane…but, yeah. And I was not your average American teen.
I knew even on the meds there was no reason in this world Chris Kent needed to be more.
On the way out, I grabbed my bag off the end of the banister and checked for a sweatshirt, swimsuit, towel, sunblock and—of course—lip gloss. Chris followed me to my third-generation-hand-me-down Civic, tossed his backpack in the back seat, and folded himself into the front.
“Where’s your car?” I asked as we backed out of the driveway.
It didn’t seem like a tough question, but he didn’t answer. Maybe he was thinking about something else. Maybe he was thinking about Amy.
“Chris,” I raised my voice. “Where’s your car?”
“Oh, yeah.” His voice wavered a little. Like he wasn’t sure how to answer. “My mom needed it.”
Chris didn’t seem like the mama’s boy type, but what did I know?
Actually, what did I know?
I glanced toward him, but he’d leaned his head against the door and was watching the world go by through the peeling tint of the window.
I knew he was hot. I knew he got around. I knew he was the It Boy of high school soccer for the entire state. Every adult in the school bragged about the college scouts coming to look at him by sophomore year. I knew he was struggling with his grades. He was in a panic and I suddenly suspected it wasn’t just about the grades.
You know what they say: Takes one to know one.
“Is everything okay?” As if I was in a place to help anyone out.
“Yeah. Everything’s fine.” He didn’t even bother to turn and pretend to give me his attention. He just kept staring out my window, letting me drive his butt to his friend’s party while taking over my life to get him into his college of choice.
Whatever.
I’m not anyone’s social confessional.
“It’s about seeing Luke and Amy, isn’t it?” I just couldn’t seem to help myself. Sometimes someone else’s mess makes yours disappear. Or at least go into hiding. Like wearing a hat on a bad hair day. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t think it would hit you this hard. You really don’t like losing, do you?”
He didn’t say anything, just kept looking out the window. The silence kind of sat between us. I felt like one of those people in a bad cop movie trapped on my side of the Plexiglass wall without a two-way phone. After a minute, I turned the music on. Anything was better than listening to him not talk.
I’d never been to Ben’s before, but I wasn’t about to ask Mr. Broody Pants which way to go. Rustling through my purse with one hand and keeping my eyes on the road, I thought my car was having a transition-engine-alternator-whatever-else-can-go-wrong fit when the music went dead.
“It isn’t Amy.”
What was I supposed to say to that? It didn’t really matter if I believed him or not. Or even if it was true. He could be lying to himself for all I cared.
But there was more at play here. This was more than the strong-silent act going on.
“Okay.” I let the word kind of drift out there between us.
“It isn’t Amy.” He pointed at the road coming up on the left. “Turn there.”
“Whatever.” Really, what did it matter to me?
He shifted in the seat, as much as a six foot guy could turn in the bucket seat of a ‘97 Honda Civic.
“Not that I care what you think, but I know you’re not sure about this tutoring thing. I have some crap going on and I’d really appreciate you dropping the Amy thing.” He turned back in his seat. “I just…you know the Amy stuff was hard enough, but I just don’t want to think about anything right now.”
Says the guy who’s done nothing but brood since he got in my car.
“Okay.” I felt him study me. “Really.”
“Thanks.”
We were coming up to a house with a few other cars out front and Luke’s wicked old truck.
“This must be it.” Just call me Captain Obvious.
I parked in the shady spot behind Luke’s truck, threw the emergency brake and twisted to pull my bag out of the backseat only to come nose to nose with Chris.
“So, we’re on?”
My brain stalled out. I can’t think of any other way to put it. I suddenly understood the power of beauty and why his airheads would make fools of themselves for his attention. I got all those romance novels where the hero and heroine couldn’t stand each other but there’s that undeniable pull between them. That something that keeps them coming back to each other when sanity dictates they run the other direction. The uncontrollable outside power of it all.
He cocked an eyebrow. “Ready to go?”
Or not.
I shook it off. It was just the after effects of dealing with a rough couple of days. The idea that someone could be as beautiful as Chris was just a novelty. And it wasn’t like he was beautiful on the inside.
I heard the music blaring from the backyard. Judging by the cars out front, a good number of the soccer team must be there. Including Chris, so that meant it wasn’t necessarily just the
good guys like Luke.
I stutter-stepped on the stone walkway thinking about everything that might go on at this party. I’m not sure I wanted to be around drinking guys who were used to having girls like me handed to them in the hallways with bows on their heads. Plus, there was the whole bathing suit thing.
Chris stopped at the arched gateway in the tall wood lattice fence.
“You coming?”
I tried to shake my head.
“Rachel?” If I didn’t know better, Mr. Broody Pants was looking a little concerned. He moved away from the gate, the gravel walkway crunching under his feet as he came to hover over me. Glancing over his shoulder, he took my arm and pulled us out of the view of the backyard. “Everything okay?”
He really seemed worried. It kind of threw me. Actually, it really threw me. Right out of anxiety mode.
If I could live with him looking at me, I could live with anyone looking at me, right? Plus, on the other side of that gate was my best friend and one of the nicest guys in the world. Also, there was Ben who may possibly be the other nicest guy in the world. It seemed a complete shame that I wasn’t interested. I’d even tried to be. After Jovi’s, I’d gone home and told myself all the reasons I should be interested in Ben Harrison…but not even a heart murmur let alone a full out flutter. What a shame.
But, if I wanted to figure out who his mystery girl was, this was the perfect time to start.
“Yup. Fine. Why?”
He kept staring, taking in my eyes, my face. “You look a little pale.”
I brushed my cheek with the tips of my fingers as if I could feel the ash, push it away, hide it.
“I’m fine.”
He reached out, as if to test my cheek before snatching his hand back. It was weird and intimate and I didn’t really know what to do. But suddenly, standing there with a guy I barely knew and couldn’t trust, I was okay. Because, really, how much weirder could the day get, right?
“I’m sure everything will be cool with you hanging,” he continued. “I mean, I know you aren’t one of those girls. The guys won’t mind having a normal chick hang out who doesn’t count and stuff.”
Okay, not weirder, but how much more derogatory could it get than that?
Of course, he probably thought that was the most reassuring statement in the world. Pfft, guys. Actually, maybe just, Pfft, Chris.
I took a deep breath and checked my skirt one more time. “What are you waiting for?”
He gave me a look that might have been a billboard saying he didn’t know which one of us should be annoyed and pushed the gate open. I liked keeping him on his toes. Maybe that could be my sport.
I ducked under his arm before he could tell me how much I didn’t count again and headed toward the revelry-noise. I’d been so worried about going to a party, especially with people I didn’t really know, that I hadn’t thought through the part about showing up with Mr. Soccer.
You know those scenes in movies when the whole party stops, you hear a record scratch (as if anyone here is really that retro), and everything morphs into slow motion. Well, that really happened. Okay, maybe not the record part.
Everyone turned and looked at us standing just inside the gate. If it was possible, the sun focused into a spotlight right on us. The pause was long and dramatic.
“Hey guys. Car’s broke. Rachel picked me up walking here.” Chris nodded to me and moved into the small crowd.
Just like that, everyone turned away. Well, the guys turned away. The girls watched Mr. Beauty-in-Motion head toward the nearest soccer ball. There was a plethora (vocab word alert!) to choose from. Yeah, a whole heck of a lot of balls.
“Rachel!” Amy’s voice carried from where she sat, her feet dangling in the water, Luke swimming around in front of her. It said a lot about them that I didn’t pause in joining them. That I knew I could head right over even though they were hanging out together.
The party wasn’t actually that big. Ben had only invited his close friends and a few guys from the soccer team that were not un-invitable. The girls were mostly girlfriends and long time friends. The ones that had been hanging out with this group since they were skinny nerds kicking a ball around in the road until the streetlights came on.
I circled the pool and kicked my flip-flops off to join Amy where she splashed water in Luke’s direction.
“Hey guys.” I waved to Ben as I tested the water. “One last day of Indian Summer, huh?”
Amy and Luke glanced at each other and did that secret language thing where neither of them actually said anything out loud. I mean, you couldn’t even learn that as a second language, so how was I supposed to keep up?
“I’m going to go see what the guys are doing for lunch.” Luke pulled himself out of the water. I tried to ignore the cologne commercial he made with all that glistening going on since he was Amy’s.
I waited for it, knowing what was coming and wondering what I would say. I hadn’t added the Won’t-Lie-To-Amy clause into the agreement with Chris yet. I blame the potential-meltdown-morning-followed-by-the-brain-stall-moment.
“So…picked him up on the side of the road?”
I couldn’t do it. I know I’d promised him, but I couldn’t actually lie to Amy about this. Everyone else, yes. Amy, no.
I was already lying to her about enough things.
“Not exactly.” I glanced across the yard to where Chris stood by the grill with a couple of guys juggling a soccer ball between them.
“How not exactly?”
The ball bounced to him, and after some fancy footwork I couldn’t even follow, it soared in a smooth arc across the circle to another guy before Chris broke away from the group.
“Very not exactly,” I admitted.
She leaned back on both hands, shaking out her tawny hair behind her, waiting for me to continue.
“He ran to my house this morning for something about school, and then when he found out I was coming here he basically just got in the car.” All true. Go me.
“He went to your house. Just showed up. For something about school? Without his car? But, with his backpack with his swimsuit and stuff?” Leaning forward, she wiped her hands off on her shorts. “And then made you bring him here?”
I was going to cave. I hadn’t even started our tutoring deal and I was going to spill my guts to the person he asked me not to. To the only person whose opinion he seemed to truly care about.
“Hey ladies.” Saved by the man himself. Awkward. And that wasn’t just because of the tacky Kiss The Cook apron they’d just put on him. “We’re taking a count. Hot dog or hamburger.”
I glanced at Amy. If she was ever going to let the accusations fly, now would be a great time. Perfect actually because then it would be on him to smooth it out. I might be an Accessory To Lying, but at least I wouldn’t actually be lying. Didn’t getaway car drivers get less time? Or was that just when they cut a deal on Law & Order?
She watched me watch her for a long moment before turning back to Chris.
“I’ll have a cheeseburger, lots of cheese.”
He grinned, relief flooding his features as he pushed that mass of blond on top of his head out of his eyes. “A girl after my own heart.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, the grin faded. We all froze like some bad claymation cartoon for a moment before he stuttered out, “About the cheese.”
Amy reached out and patted his foot with her hand. “I know.”
It was an odd moment. The backwardness of it sent me reeling. How was I supposed to come back to school this year with all my own crappy changes and deal with the universe tilting on its axis like this?
Chris watched Amy until she turned toward me. His gaze shifted finally to me in obvious reluctance. And there it was again, a bit of concern as he studied me…some for me, some maybe for himself, wondering what tense moment he’d stumbled into.
“Cheeseburger. Normal cheese.”
Was there a more insane conversation going on in the tri-county area?
“Right. Two cheeseburgers. One extra cheese, one normal cheese.” With a head bob at each of us, he headed back to where the guys clustered on the deck. Ah, males and the call of the open flame.
Amy’s gaze followed him as he moved around the pool to the grill Ben was supervising. It lingered there a moment before turning back to me.
And then I was the worried one. “Is there something I should know?”
Amy’s brows squished down, nose squished up to meet them. “What do you mean?”
I glanced toward the grill again. Chris’s back was to us as he helped Ben with the …well, whatever it was men of all ages did around fire and raw meat.
“That thing you just did,” I said. But wow, it sounded like an accusation. I guess it kind of was. My gaze slipped toward the open part of the yard where Luke tossed a ball back and forth with a guy I dated two years ago. “You just totally scoped Chris walking and then kind of did the linger-on-him thing once he was over there.”
We both turned to look at Chris, barefoot, shirtless and with baggy shorts just hanging off those hipbones.
“Honestly, Rachel.” Amy quirked a brow at me. “Are you really worried about that?”
Yes. Yes, I was. Amy had emotionally killed herself over and over again because of that guy, and now he was hers for the taking. I should know. I spent six years picking her up from her Chris-obsessed-funk over and over…and over again, worried constantly about her battered heart. What if she panicked with Luke? What if she couldn’t trust that what she had was real? That he really wouldn’t break her heart and she was his perfectionist-easing equal?
There was no way I was letting Chris near her. If she knew I was tutoring him, she’d let her guard down. She’d try to convince me again that he was secretly one of the good guys. Then, he’d swoop in and start the relationship chaos again.
I grabbed her hand. “Amy, promise me you won’t do anything to screw things up with Luke over that loser.”
She looked down at our hands tight together, shaking a bit, and gave mine a firm squeeze.
Secret Life (RVHS Secrets) Page 6