Текст книги "Secrets and Lies"

Автор книги: Kody Keplinger

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Copyright Page

In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

For Lisa D,

who always wants to read more.

Thank you.

Abbreviations & Alliterations

Chapter One

“I have a surprise for you!”

It was the first thing out of Jess’s mouth when I stepped off the bus. Not hello or I missed you or how was your trip? Nope. I have a surprise for you! I won’t lie; it made me nervous. After four hours on a crowded and slightly smelly bus, I wasn’t sure how ready I was for one of Jess’s surprises. My instinct told me it would be pink, frilly, and require me to be much more upbeat than I was feeling just then.

But I guess that’s what I should have expected when I asked her to pick me up from the bus station at the beginning of winter break. After my first semester at college, I was ready to come home. Of course I’d missed Jess, and even her constant enthusiasm for everything, but I wished I could ease back into it slowly.

Surprises were not “easing.” Pink, frilly, Jess surprises were definitely not “easing.”

“What is it?” I asked, trying not to sound hesitant. I didn’t want to be a tool after not seeing her in person for almost four months.

“You’ll see. It’s in the car. Let’s get your suitcase.”

The driver unloaded all the bags from a compartment under the bus. It didn’t take me long to find mine—no one else’s bag had been bedazzled with CASEY BLITHE across the front. Actually, the bedazzling on my luggage was one of Jess’s “surprises” last summer. It had bugged me at first, because she hadn’t exactly asked my permission and sparkles weren’t usually my thing. But I’d grown to appreciate it. At least it made finding the luggage ridiculously easy anytime I traveled.

Jess led the way to the car, and I followed behind her, dragging my suitcase and trying to prepare myself for the peppiness Jess’s surprise might necessitate.

Her car was a rickety old thing she bought with tip money from the waitressing gig she got after graduation. It was sky blue and covered in scratches, and the windows sported a dark peeling tint job. The thing was on the verge of automobile death, but I was still envious of it.

Between classes and cheerleading, I didn’t have time to earn any money.

While Jess started the ignition, I waited for her big reveal. “So,” I said. “What’s the surprise?”

“It’s in the backseat,” she said. “Take a look.”

I turned to glance over my shoulder. I expected to see a fuzzy pink sweater or giant stuffed animal in a Santa hat or—

“BOO!”

I screamed, both startled and ecstatic. Because lying in the backseat, laughing her ass off, was my best friend.

“Bianca!”

“Hey,” she said, still trying to stifle laughs as she sat up. She groaned and rubbed her lower back. “God, Jessica. Did you install the rusty, uneven springs back here or were you lucky enough to have the car come that way?”

“It came that way.”

“Come on, Jess,” I said. “You know B’s used to a much more comfortable backseat when she’s with Wesley.”

“Actually, the Porsche’s backseat is too small for that. We just lay back the front seats—”

“Ew, guys!” Jess whined as she backed the car out of her parking spot.

“I’m kidding,” B said, leaning forward between our seats. “Wesley didn’t even bring his car to New York. It would have been a waste of space and money.”

“Speaking of New York,” I said. “What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t back until next week.”

“I lied. My plane got in yesterday. Jessica and I thought it might be fun to surprise you.”

“Actually, I’m glad you did.” I gave her the best hug I could, considering the seat belt holding me in place and her being behind me and all. It was one-armed and awkward, but it was good enough. “OMG,” I said, spelling it out with a happy sigh. “I’ve missed you guys so much. Skype is seriously not enough.”

“We’ve missed you, too,” Jess said. “It’s been really lonely around here without you guys. It kind of feels wrong, you know?”

After graduation, B went off to college in New York, and I went to school a few hours away. Jess stayed close, though. She went to Oak Hill Community College, commuting from her parents’ house every day. Sometimes when I thought of her at school, I’d envision her driving past our old hangouts by herself, and it always left me feeling homesick. I can’t imagine how it made her feel.

“Well, we’re here now,” B said. “And we’ve got a whole month to drive each other crazy.”

“Speaking of driving people crazy… Bianca, don’t kill me,” Jess said.

B narrowed her eyes. “What did you do?”

“Now don’t get mad because it’s going to be awesome and fun and you’ll be really glad afterward even if you are not excited right now and—”

“Jessica.”

“I kind of told Angela we’d go to her party tonight—all of us.”

B groaned and flopped back into her seat. “Ugh, Jessica. Why didn’t you warn me?”

“Because I know how you feel about parties and I knew you’d find a reason not to go if I gave you too much notice. But it’ll be so much fun! The three of us at a party! And everyone’s back for winter break, so there will be plenty of our friends there.”

B just grunted.

“I actually think that sounds awesome,” I said.

“Of course you do,” B muttered.

“The party’s tonight at eight. I figure we can go out to dinner first? Then maybe change at my house?”

“Sounds good to me.” I looked over my shoulder. “B… you in?”

She sighed. “If I have to be.”

“Great!” Jess exclaimed. “Then it’s settled. Tonight we’re going to par-tay!”

***

The party got boring fast.

Half an hour in, and I found myself sitting on the kitchen counter, drinking a beer and watching a few drunk boys play an impromptu game of hacky sack that was sure to end in disaster. Jess had run off, chasing Harrison Carlyle, who still preferred boys. The girl would never learn. I’d spent some time with B and Wesley after that, but I was starting to feel a little like a third wheel. At first it had been okay, chatting with some people from high school. But with most of them, I just realized why I hadn’t bothered to keep in touch over the past few months.

It was weird. Six months ago this party would have been the best thing ever. But now it just sort of felt like a rerun of my life. And reruns are the worst.

I finished my beer and skirted around the hacky-sack boys, heading for the cooler on the other side of the kitchen. I bent down and dug through the ice, looking for another can.

“Would you mind grabbing me one, too?” someone behind me asked.

“Yeah, sure. Just a second.” I found two cans of beer and straightened. “Here you go—OMG, hi.”

Toby laughed. “Hello, Casey.”

“I… wasn’t expecting to see you here,” I admitted. “You kind of surprised me.”

I hadn’t seen Toby Tucker since he gave the valedictorian speech at graduation back in May. He mostly looked the same—the same glasses, the same out-of-place-looking blazer. But he had a much better haircut now. Still, he didn’t look like the kind of guy you saw at a house party.

Toby dated B for a very short time senior year. I’d been really disappointed when they broke up, actually, because he was such a great guy. After graduation, he’d gone off to Harvard, and everyone just sort of assumed he’d be running for president one day.

“How are you?” I asked. “How’s school?”

“Pretty good,” he said. “Challenging, but that’s not a bad thing. And you?”

“It’s cool. Way cooler than high school.”

Toby nodded. Then, somewhat awkwardly, he asked, “Um… can I have my beer now?”

I looked at the can in my hand. “Oh, right. Here.” I handed it to him, shaking my head. “Toby Tucker drinks. Not gonna lie, it kind of weirds me out.”

“Only occasionally,” he said, popping the top. “And when I have a designated driver, of course.”

“Careful there. You sound a little like a PSA,” I teased. “So who’s your DD? Did you bring a girlfriend home from the Ivy League?”

“No, no. My DD is Jeanine McPhee. Her parents bought the house next to my parents’ so it’s just sort of convenient. And she never drinks at all, so it just worked out well that way.”

“Oh, Jeanine. I should probably say hi to her or something.”

“Yeah, I’m sure she’d like that. She—”

“Incoming!” one of the drunk boys yelled just as the hacky sack came flying at us out of nowhere. It smacked into Toby’s hand, spilling the contents of his can all over his too-dressy blazer.

“Oh, fuck,” I said.

“Oh, dude,” one of the boys called. “Sorry about your jacket.”

“Great,” Toby muttered. “I’m drenched.”

“Come on.” I took the empty can from his hand and tossed it in the recycling bin. “You’re going to smell like beer all night, but we can at least dry the blazer off so you’re not dripping onto the carpet. I knew the minute those dumbasses started playing in the kitchen that something bad was going to happen.”

He followed me to the bathroom. I knocked a couple of times, then reached for the knob. It wasn’t locked, but it should’ve been.

Two people were seriously going at it. The girl was sitting on the sink, her skirt hiked up to the very top of her thighs. I didn’t recognize them, so I figured they were some of Angela’s friends from OHCC.

“All right, kids. Go do the baby making somewhere else. Some people actually need the bathroom,” I said.

Reluctantly, they left the bathroom, both cursing me in voices just loud enough for me to hear over the buzz of the party. I just rolled my eyes and gestured for Toby to go inside ahead of me. Then I shut the door behind us and started riffling through the cabinet under the sink, hoping to find Angela’s hair dryer.

“You really don’t have to help me with this, Casey,” he said.

“I don’t mind. It gives me something to do. Before I ran into you, I was getting pretty bored.”

“I can’t imagine this is much more exciting.”

“Here it is!” I said, triumphantly holding the hair dryer over my head and standing up. “And are you kidding? Fixing wardrobe disasters—even a little one like this—is anything but boring for me. Now take off your blazer.”

He grinned and raised an eyebrow. “Are you getting fresh with me?”

I laughed. It was weird seeing Toby Tucker be so… relaxed? Funny? He’d always seemed so easily embarrassed. The boy who’d blush at any mildly suggestive comment. Not anymore, though. A semester at college had really loosened him up. I liked it.

“You know it,” I teased. “Now strip.”

He took off his wet blazer and handed it to me. Underneath he was wearing a plain white dress shirt. And he looked pretty good in it. Without the blazer, I could actually see the shape of his arms, and I wondered if he’d been taking advantage of the campus gym. Honestly, I thought he should ditch the blazer altogether. It wasn’t doing him any favors. But, hey, people make weird-ass fashion choices. There was a period of time when I thought purple skinny jeans were an essential fashion piece.

“This isn’t, like, dry-clean only, right?” I asked, holding up the blazer.

Toby shook his head. “No. Do you really think I’d wear one of my nice blazers to a party?”

“Well, Toby, most eighteen-year-olds don’t wear blazers to a party. Period.”

“Touché.”

I plugged in the hair dryer and switched it on, pointing the stream of hot air at the blazer, which I’d stretched flat over the toilet lid. It was too loud for us to talk, so Toby just stood off to the side, leaning against the wall while I worked. A few minutes later, his blazer had gone from drenched to just a little damp. I turned off the hair dryer and put it away.

“That’s as good as it’s gonna get tonight,” I told him.

“That’s fine,” Toby said. “I can’t really keep wearing it, anyway. With how it smells. I’ll just put it in Jeanine’s car and wash it when I get home. Thanks, Casey.”

“No prob,” I said, waving my hand. I sat on the edge of the sink, facing him. “To be honest, that was more enjoyable than the rest of this party has been. I mean, it’s not that the party is, like, lame or anything, it’s just that it—”

“Feels like you’ve been here a million times?” Toby offered.

“Yeah. Exactly. Like a rerun of a TV show you’ve seen on cable over and over again. You know every story line and every quote, and even if it’s a great episode, it just isn’t exciting anymore.”

“I feel the same way,” he said. “I didn’t go to many parties in high school. Just a few. And I admit, I had fun, but they were all pretty much the same. It’s hard to believe that was just a few months ago.”

“Right?” I said. “It’s like everything is different—”

“But exactly the same.”

We looked at each other, then laughed.

“I’m glad I ran into you tonight, Toby,” I said. “I don’t know if B ever told you, but I was actually pretty pissed at her after she broke up with you.”

“Really? Why?”

I shrugged. “You just seemed liked a good guy. I had a good time tagging along with you two.”

“You mean you and Jessica enjoyed sitting in the backseat, making fun of us.”

“Exactly.” I swung my leg forward, playfully kicking at his khaki-covered legs.

OMG. Was I flirting with him?

“So I take it her new boyfriend isn’t as fun to mock?” he asked, grinning.

“Wesley? He’s great, but I don’t have nearly as much fun tagging along with them. I always feel like a third wheel. Even if Jess is around.”

“I know how you feel,” Toby said. “I’ve been single all semester, but my roommate got a girlfriend the first week of school. She practically lives in our dorm room, and sometimes I seriously consider sleeping at the library just so I don’t have to feel like I’m intruding on them.”

“Dude, I’ve had the same issue at school. My roommate started dating this guy from her biology class, and it’s like they’re fused together now. Like if they’re apart for more than three seconds, they might actually die. Sometimes it’s seriously like, WTF, why are you making out right in front of me? Don’t you want some, like, privacy? Luckily, Wesley and B have never been that bad, but it still sucks to feel like everyone’s just being polite and don’t really want you around.”

“I have a hard time imagining anyone not wanting you around,” he said. “But I know how you feel.”

“What’s wrong with us?” I asked, picking up my can of beer, which I’d left next to me on the sink, and taking a drink. I offered it to Toby then, and he took it. “We’re cool, funny, good-looking people. How do we always end up being the third or fifth or seventh wheels? Hell, I’ve even been a ninth wheel. If my life were a semitruck, it would topple over.”

Toby took a long swig of my beer, then stepped forward and put the can back on the sink, his arm brushing across mine. “Maybe we just need to find our matching wheels,” he said. “And maybe we’ve overextended the metaphor here.”

“Maybe just a little.”

He laughed. Then I laughed. And I don’t know if it was the beer starting to go to our heads or the slow, sexy R&B song playing beyond the bathroom door or the fact that we were both single wheels, but the next thing I knew, I was leaning forward and he was leaning in and his hands were on my waist and mine were in his hair and then…

And then I was kissing Toby Tucker.

This definitely wasn’t a rerun. Nope. This was a totally new, never-before-seen episode of my life.

Chapter Two

When I woke up the next day, I had three thoughts. They were, in this order:

I had a good time last night.

Wait… did I really make out with Toby?

OH MY GOD, I am the worst friend ever.

It was enough to make me bolt upright in my bed, which wasn’t a great idea. I hadn’t had quite enough last night to have a full-blown hangover, but I wasn’t feeling my best, either. The sudden movement made my head spin. I groaned.

And so did B.

Which was how I remembered that she’d stayed over last night. Jess had dropped us off here after the party, and we’d crashed about five minutes after walking in the door.

She rolled over, rubbing her eyes. “Mmm. What time is it?”

“Uh…” I glanced at the clock by my bed. “Just after eleven.”

“Ugh.” She sat up. “This is one of the million reasons I hate parties. I always stay out too late and feel like shit the next day.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. But I wasn’t really listening.

I guess she could tell.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

“No. Not at all,” I said. Except that I made out with your ex last night and I know you’d be super pissed if you knew. It’s not that I thought B would be jealous or that she still had feelings for Toby or something. She’d moved on a while ago, and she seemed pretty happy about it. Still, though, there was a rule. An unspoken but totally valid rule. You did not hook up with your friends’ exes.

I mean, I was totally over Aidan Wilmot, the boy I’d dated freshman year of high school, but I still wouldn’t be happy if B or Jess suddenly decided to stick their tongues down his throat. It would just be too weird.

“No, everything’s fine,” I said again. “Why do you ask?”

“Uh, because you sprang up like the house was on fire. And now you’re acting kind of strange.”

“Oh, that… um, no. I just remembered that Mom wanted to go have lunch in Oak Hill, then do some Christmas shopping, and I said I’d go with her. I’d better start getting ready.” I jumped out of bed and headed for my closet. Behind me, I heard the mattress creak as B got to her feet.

“Should I call my dad and ask him to pick me up?” she asked.

When I turned around, she was putting on last night’s wrinkled clothes. “No. Mom and I can drop you off. No problem.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Mom was eating a bagel and wearing her embarrassing Christmas sweater when we got downstairs.

“How was the party?” she asked. “I heard the two of you sneak in.”

“Fine,” I said, popping a few pieces of bread into the toaster for me and Bianca.

Mom raised an eyebrow. “Just fine? That’s all I get?”

I shrugged. I wasn’t exactly eager to talk about last night’s events. Not with my mom and not in front of Bianca. Luckily, Mom noticed what time it was and became too busy hurrying us through breakfast to persist in her questioning.

Ten minutes later, all three of us were out the door.

***

After we dropped B off, Mom and I headed to Oak Hill, the next town over from Hamilton and the closest thing we had to a “city” until you reached Chicago. It wasn’t much to brag about. A ridiculously tiny shopping mall. Two or three chain restaurants. A Greyhound station. Oak Hill did have one thing I was grateful for, though: Cindependent, a terribly named but totally awesome independent movie theater.

I’d only ventured in there once or twice during high school. I always kind of thought indie flicks were only for pretentious hipsters. But over the past couple months, my perception had changed. So on our way to lunch, I asked Mom to pull into the parking lot so I could run inside and grab a ticket for the afternoon showing of a new French film.

After we ate at a little café inside the mall, Mom went off to shop for gifts, and we promised to meet in front of the mall’s main entrance around six that night. I headed for the little salon next to Sears to get my hair cut. Being a broke college student, I hadn’t had the cash to keep up with cutting my hair, so it had grown from its pixie cut all the way to nearly my shoulders. And a ton of it was made up of dead ends. Ew.

I flipped through a few stylebooks, deciding to do something different. Instead of going back to the pixie cut, I pointed the stylist to an asymmetrical look where the longest pieces would fall near my chin. I couldn’t stop looking in the mirror as she cut away the blond strands, and when she was done, I just kept staring. I wasn’t the bragging type, but it looked pretty badass.

I paid, leaving a nice tip, then headed out to the center of the mall, where a set of benches formed a large square. There was a long line of parents waiting to take their kids’ pictures with Santa in the middle of the square. I sat down and pulled out a magazine I’d brought along. Normally I would have been all over the shopping, but Mom had placed me on a no-shopping ban until after Christmas to keep me from buying anything she may have already gotten me as a gift.

Between pages of celebrity gossip, I checked the clock on my phone, waiting for the time when I’d need to catch the bus over to the theater. I’d just finished an article about a pregnant TV star when I heard someone say, “Casey?” and looked up.

Toby, dressed in khakis and a dark blue blazer, was weaving his way around the Santa line, carrying a few shopping bags. He smiled as he headed toward me. My heart sped up. Partly from guilt because we’d made out last night and partly because… well, we’d made out last night, and I’d kind of maybe really liked it. Which just made me feel guiltier.

“Hey,” he said when he was standing in front of me.

“Hey,” I repeated.

“You changed your hair,” he said. “I really like it.”

“Oh, thanks,” I said, tugging on one of the chin-length pieces. “I didn’t think boys noticed that sort of thing.”

“I don’t think we do most of the time.” He gestured to the bench. “Mind if I sit?”

“Uh, sure. Go ahead.”

He put his shopping bags on the ground, then sat down beside me, leaving a few inches of space between us. It wasn’t enough space to keep me from feeling nervous, though.

“So what are you doing here?” I asked.

“Running errands for my parents. Dad needed a few new belts and Mom needed some socks. Now that I’m home, I get the honor of shopping for them.”

“Fun.”

“It’s not so bad. What about you?”

“I had lunch with my mom, and now she’s Christmas shopping and I’m just kind of hanging out.”

Toby nodded. He opened his mouth, shut it, then opened it again. “So, uh… about last night…”

I stiffened.

He blushed. “I was thinking we—”

“Should probably just forget about it?” I offered. “I mean, we were drinking and talking about wheels and—”

“Actually, I was going to say that I was thinking we should go out,” Toby said. “On a date.”

“Oh.”

“But I guess if you…”

“Toby, I’m sorry,” I said. And I meant it. He was such a nice guy. Like, genuinely nice, not the fake nice a lot of guys pretend to be just so they can play the victim. Toby was wonderful, and he just kept getting crapped on. First B. Now this. I felt terrible.

“No, it’s okay.”

“I really did have a good time with you last night,” I assured him. “I’m not just saying that. But it’s just… it’s weird. You used to date my best friend, and I don’t think she’d be okay with us kissing and going on dates and… I’m sorry.”

“Casey, it’s okay. I get it,” he said.

“Can we still be friends?” I asked. “I know that’s a freaking cliché of a thing to ask, but I’m serious.”

“Sure.” And it sounded like he actually meant it. “We can be friends.”

“Great.” I glanced at my cell phone, lying on the bench beside me. “Oh, shit. I have to go catch the bus.”

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“Cindependent. There’s a French film showing there that I—”

“You’re seeing that, too?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “Wait—you’re going to see it today?”

“I have a ticket to the afternoon showing. I didn’t know you liked foreign films.”

“I didn’t until recently. But I had this French professor this past semester who was just this really awesome woman, and she got me to watch a few French movies, and I’ve been hooked. I’ve tried to convert B and Jess, but it just hasn’t worked.”

“If you’re going right now, then why don’t I drive you?” he offered. “We’re seeing the same movie at the same time. There’s no point in you wasting money on the bus.”

“If you don’t mind, that would be great,” I said. “Public transportation in this town sucks.”

So we went to the theater together. Then we sat together. Then we left the theater together. And when Mom called to ask where I was, I told her Toby would give me a ride home. We were having such a good time talking about the movie that I suggested we grab a bite to eat and continue the conversation. So we did. Toby drove us to—appropriately—a French restaurant, where we sat and gushed about the actors’ abilities and the director’s vision and all that jazz.

And once we were done with that, we just started talking. About everything. Anything.

“Do you still cheerlead?” Toby asked, taking a sip of his water.

I nodded. “Yeah. I’m thinking of quitting, though. It’s not as fun as it used to be, and with my class schedule, I just don’t really have enough time.”

“I know how that is,” he said. “I was playing intramural soccer at the beginning of the semester, but I had to quit. The workload plus participating in student government—I needed to sleep sometime.”

“Student government? Why am I not surprised?”

“I’m a broken record, I know.”

“No. I think it’s great that you have something you’re passionate about. Not everybody has that at our age. I don’t.”

“I guess,” he said. “I just feel like everyone must be so bored when I talk to them.”

“I’m never bored talking to you,” I assured him. “Which is more than I can say about a lot of guys. Especially the ones I dated this semester. Ugh.”

“What happened? If I’m allowed to ask.”

“Nothing, like, dramatic or anything,” I said. “Honestly, a lot of guys are just insecure because I’m taller than they are. I actually went on two dates with this guy Braden. Then one night he called and said, ‘Next time we go out, don’t wear heels.’ He didn’t ask me not to. He told me not to. When I asked why, he said, ‘Because I want to be the man.’ Like… WTF?”

“What did you say?” Toby asked.

“I told him if he was so desperate to be taller than me, he could wear heels. My shoes didn’t make me feel any less like a woman, and it wasn’t my fault if he thought towering over me was the only way to feel manly.”

“He sounds a little like… well, a tool.”

“Oh, he was.”

“I have to admit, I’m surprised,” he said. “I mean, you’re interesting and fun to be around. And you’re beautiful. A guy would be crazy to screw things up with you.”

I felt myself blush. “Thanks, Toby. You’re not so bad yourself.”

Somewhere between that moment and when the waitress came by with the bill, it dawned on me. I’d said no to going on a date with Toby, but here I was, in a nice little restaurant, after seeing a romantic French film, being told I was beautiful by a guy who—I’ll admit it—I really liked. If this wasn’t a date, I didn’t know what was.

So when he pulled up in front of my house an hour later, I knew I should get out of the car. He was my best friend’s ex, and in less than twenty-four hours, I’d made out with him and gone on an accidental date with him. I couldn’t keep seeing Toby, and I didn’t want to lead him on, but at the same time…

“I had a really great time today,” I said. “I’m glad I ran into you.”

“Me too,” Toby said.

We were staring at each other, the streetlights glinting off his glasses. My head was telling me to get out of the damn car. It was buzzing with thoughts like, B will kill you and Don’t do it, don’t do it! But every other part of me wanted my head to shut the fuck up.

Then he smiled at me.

And I knew I was screwed.

I leaned forward and put my hand on his cheek. Toby looked surprised and maybe even a little nervous. But he didn’t stop me when I kissed him. He leaned into me, his lips soft but strong against mine. His hands were on my neck and in my hair, fingers running through the newly cut strands.

I pushed at the collar of his blazer, shoving it off his shoulders. He wiggled his arms free, then went back to touching me again. It was like his hands couldn’t get enough. And I knew how he felt. My hands were all over him, too, sliding along his back and arms. I even popped a few buttons of his shirt.

“But, Casey,” he muttered, his lips still brushing mine. And for a second I thought he was about to be the moral compass here, telling me to stop because of B and the Girl Code and all that. Instead, he grinned against my mouth. “You’re at least three inches taller than me, and if you wear heels… I don’t know how I’ll ever feel like a man.”

I laughed. “Shut up.”

We kissed in the front seat of his car until my mom started flashing the porch lights, a signal that she knew I was outside, knew I was making out, and thought it was time for the party to end. I sighed and pulled myself away from Toby. His face was red and his lips were swollen. Mine must have been, too.

“I have to go.”

“Okay,” he said.

“I’ll call you.”

“I hope so.”

“Good night, Toby,” I said, smiling.

I climbed out of the car, knowing I was a terrible human being but deciding, just for the night, not to care.