My Sweetest Escape (24 page)

across it.”

“Well, maybe some people were waiting

for some other people’s birthday to do

that,” Hunter said, not looking up from his

book. He and Dusty had their heads

together over the same book.

“Whatever,” she said, going grumpily

back to her book.

“I have a point and you know it.”

“Yes, baby. Whatever you say, baby.”

Taylor balled up a piece of paper and

chucked it at him.

I was busy typing out a response to Brett

while Hannah read for Pam’s class. I was

honest in saying that I had no journalistic

experience, but said I was eager to learn. I

sent it off, and my email pinged only five

minutes later with a response.

Brett was thrilled and wanted me to

come in for an official interview at some

point in the next few days. He told me to

pick up a copy of the
AP Stylebook
at the

library, as well.

I had no idea what that was, but I’d

figure it out. I typed back a quick response

telling him when I was free and he wrote

back a few seconds later saying he’d see me

at four on Friday at the office in the Union.

I’d walked by it enough times, so I knew

where it was. Now all I had to do was panic

about it until then.

My only other mission that night was to

get Dusty alone so I could ask him about the

night before, but doing that was going to be

tricky with a houseful of people watching.

If I asked to talk to him, that would look

crazy suspicious, so I’d just have to wait for

a good opportunity.

I seized one when he got up to grab a

soda from the fridge.

Pretending I needed more tea—which I

actually did—I followed him into the

kitchen.

“So, you proposed to the coffeepot

yet?” I said, filling my mug up and putting it

in the microwave. He came and stood right

behind me. Clearly, he had never learned

anything about personal space.

“Shh, I’m planning to do it in an

elaborate viral video. I’m still trying to find

some backup singers and dancers, and I’m

waiting on a hot air balloon, so don’t say

anything.” He put his fingers to his lips and

pointed at the coffeepot. “I want it to be a

surprise.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” I said as I

took my cup out of the microwave and put

the tea bag in. “So, sorry about last night

and you getting wrapped up in the drama.”

“It’s no big deal. I just wanted to make

sure nobody broke out a chair or called the

cops or anything.”

“Is that how it was in your house?” He’d

never really talked about growing up,

except for vague statements that, reading

between the lines, led me to believe it

hadn’t been great.

“Sometimes.” I nearly collapsed in shock

at the honesty in his answer. “But that’s

ancient history.” He cracked his soda open

and looked at me as if he was waiting for

something. I was completely distracted

from my original plan to ask what he’d been

about to say last night. This was much more

interesting.

“My mom’s been married four times.

My dad three. I have so many half and

stepsiblings I can’t name them all when

people ask,” I said, stirring my tea. I didn’t

know how much Renee or anyone else had

told him about our situation, but he didn’t

look surprised.

“I’ve lost count how many houses I’ve

lived in, and I’ve had to switch schools a

bunch of times,” I continued. He just stayed

silent, so I kept talking, like he was

somehow pulling the words out of me.

Stupid mesmerizing eyes. I expected him to

share something about his own childhood,

but he didn’t.

“That must have been rough.” He came

and leaned his back on the counter next to

me. There it was again, that smell of clean

laundry with just a hint of cologne.

“It was. Remember when you said I had

this ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibe?”

He smiled. “How I could I forget? I

remember everything you say.” Hold up.

He, what?

I looked at him, questioning.

He raised his hand and dragged a piece

of my hair through his fingers and sighed.

“You don’t make things easy, Red.”

“I don’t make what easy?” Sometimes I

felt like he was talking in code and I needed

a translator. It would be a hell of a lot easier

if he would just talk in a way that I could

understand.

“Why do you do that? I feel like you’re

always talking about something I don’t

know about.” He dropped his hand and

looked down and let out a breath.

“Nothing. I didn’t mean anything.”

“No, I want you to tell me what you

meant, and I want to know how you would

have responded last night when Renee

asked you how you would protect me

before I crashed into the door and

interrupted.” Screw it, they probably all

knew I was listening.

He stepped away from me, but I

grabbed his shirt to make him stop. Jesus,

he was cut under there.

Not the point, Jos.

“Jos, come on. I didn’t mean anything by

it.”

“Why are you lying to me?” It was hard

to keep my voice down so everyone in the

living room didn’t hear. I didn’t want to

make a scene.

“I’m not lying to you, Jos.” He tried to

pull away, but I grabbed his shirt with my

other hand. Either I overestimated my

strength, or he added some force and

ended up slamming up against the counter

and he crashed into me, trapping my arms

between us. It didn’t hurt; I was shocked

more than anything else.

“What the hell!” I said, finding his face

only inches from mine. He exhaled and all I

could think was that he was going to kiss

me and how much my lips were begging

him to. No, no way. I pushed against his

chest and it was like something in him

snapped and he leaped away from me like I

was a leper.

He wiped his mouth as if he had kissed

me and his face was horrified.

“What just happened?” I said, using the

counter to hold myself up. Dusty let out a

sound that was a bit like an explosion and,

somehow, very apropos.

“I’m going to take my soda and go back

to homework.

Yeah, that’s what I’m going to do.”

Without looking back at me, he grabbed his

Coke and practically ran back to the living

room, where I heard him talking with

Hunter.

I picked up my tea with a shaking hand

and sipped it, because I didn’t think I could

go back to the living room right now. I

stayed in the kitchen and savored my tea.

And by savored I mean I drank about three

drops with every sip so it would last. It was

only a matter of time before someone

disturbed me trying to get myself together

and it turned out to be Hunter.

“What are you doing?”

“Just…thinking.” If anyone asked, I was

going to say I was lost in thought

about…something. I’d been too busy

replaying the moment with Dusty to think

of a more valid excuse.

“It looks painful. Whatever you’re

thinking about.” He grabbed a bottle of

Gatorade and a can of cranberry-lime

seltzer water for Taylor. Oh, it had been

anything but painful, unless you counted a

cannon of butterflies being fired repeatedly

inside my stomach and feeling like every

nerve ending in my body was on fire as

painful.

“Just got a lot…on my mind.” He looked

at me like I’d grown an extra head.

“Okay, then. You coming back to study?”

Well, I had to, didn’t I? Or else they would

know something was wrong and then

they’d all vote on who would be the one to

come and talk to me about it. I’d figured out

their system.

“Be right there.” I downed the rest of

my tea in one gulp.

It didn’t feel as badass as I’d imagined it

would. I set my cup in the sink and walked

back into the living room and took my place

on the floor next to Hannah. She gave me a

questioning look, but I shook my head and

picked up my phone.

Tel you later.

I typed out the message and hit Send,

hoping that her text alert wasn’t too loud.

She usually had her phone off during the

day when we were at class, so I couldn’t

remember if I’d ever heard it go off.

When I heard what sounded like a

Chinese gong at an insanely loud volume, I

nearly choked on my heart, because it had

jumped into my mouth. Exclamations of

surprise, some more colorful than others,

came from everyone else.

“Sorry! Sorry! The volume on this phone

is all wonky. I’ll just turn it off.” She read my

message and typed out a quick response

and then turned her phone off as everyone

tried to focus back in on what they were

doing.

Make it good.

I shook my head at her answer and she

started wiggling her eyebrows again and I

debated about telling her at all, but she was

really the only one I had to talk to.

Hannah made some vague excuse about

accidentally leaving her earrings that she’d

bought at the mall in one of my bags, so we

had to go back down to my room and

“search” for them. As soon as she shut the

door to the upstairs, she turned on me.

“Oh, my God, I’ve been dying up there! I

could barely concentrate. Did he kiss you?

Was it good? Did he cop a feel? Did you do

it in the kitchen?”

I had to put both hands on her shoulders

to stop her from continuing. Where did she

get these ideas?

“No, no, no and NO. Do you seriously

think we would be able to have sex in the

kitchen without someone either hearing or

walking in? And do you really think I’m that

kind of girl? Seriously?”

She thought about that for a second.

“Well, no, but I had hope.”

I let go of her shoulders and walked

down the rest of the stairs and sat on the

huge couch.

“Sometimes I wonder how your mind

works and then I ealize that I really don’t

want to know.” She dragged her feet and

sat down next to me.

“So what did happen?”

I pulled my legs up and folded them

under me.

“That’s what I’m still trying to figure out.

We were talking and then he said

something about his childhood being rough

and then he touched my hair—”

“That means he loves you,” Hannah

said, nodding as if it was a scientific fact.

“How do you know that?”

She waved her hand.

“It’s been proven, like, over and over

again. So yeah, he touched your hair and…”

I got back on track. “He touched my hair

and we were talking and then I said

something and he tried to brush me aside,

so I grabbed his shirt and he just…he dived

at me and pushed me against the counter

and I thought he was going to kiss me and

then he freaked out and went back into the

living room. The end.” Hannah’s eyes were

wide, and she’d hung on every word as if I

was sharing some naughty secret tryst

rather than…well, pretty much nothing. It

sounded, like, so minor when I said it out

loud. It had felt anything but minor at the

time.

“How many times do I have to tell you

that he wants you? Dude, it sucks that we

were all here or else you two might be

mopping the kitchen floor together right

now.” I hadn’t yet told Hannah about my

still-present virginity, but this didn’t seem

like a good time to bring it up, even though

she’d all but admitted to me that she was,

too. The way she talked led me to believe

that she’d at least done more than I had,

even if she hadn’t done the deed.

“I’m not going to dignify that with a

response. So have you ‘found your earrings’

yet?” I got up to get ready for bed. I was

tired and I had a lot to think about in the

hours it would take me to actually fall

asleep.

Hannah pouted but got up.