Tease(68)

A series of options runs through my head, even as I’m pulling my best jeans out of the laundry pile on the floor of my closet. I could take my brothers with us; call Brie back and say I’m sick; just drive myself to Mexico right now—but I can’t. I can’t even convince myself that I want to do any of those things, because I know the truth. I want to see Dylan. I want him to see me. I still think he might pick me. And just maybe, maybe Brielle is right. Maybe Emma will transfer. Maybe the rest of the school year can go back to the way it was supposed to be, with me at Dylan’s prom, at his graduation. At the parties. In the yearbook. Maybe at college parties next year . . .

It’s okay that Dylan made a mistake, that he made out with Emma on Valentine’s Day. Maybe a couple of other times too, I guess. It’s okay that he’s confused now. But the warmth and power and excitement I felt last night had to be the real thing, he had to be feeling that too. We’re good together, he likes me. Emma is just a horrible distraction. And she’s in trouble now. She won’t be around at all for the rest of the weekend—she won’t be at the game. She’ll be hearing that I’m at the game, just like she heard I drove away from a party in Dylan’s car last night. She’ll break up with him. Or he’ll break up with her.

It doesn’t matter. All that matters is I need to find a stupid sweater right now and then everything is going to be fine.

Finally.

“I didn’t think you’d be here.”

“Yeah, I mean—Brielle was coming, and I really miss this. Coming to your games, I mean. I just—I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Dylan rubs his hair, still wet from the shower. Brielle is down the hall, talking to Marcus, and I’m leaning against the wall next to the locker room Dylan just came out of. The game was at the indoor field at the Catholic college downtown, and the concrete brick walls are all painted a blinding combo of blue and yellow. I feel like I’m squinting at Dylan—when I can force myself to look right at him, anyway, which isn’t very much.

All my clever flirting from last night has evaporated. Now I’m just a stalker with nothing to say for herself.

But Dylan shrugs and smiles a little. “It’s nice to see you,” he says quietly.

I look up at him hopefully.

“We’re gonna get something to eat. Maybe at that diner down here?”

My heart does a little leap. I know the place he’s talking about—it’s one of those old-fashioned silver-sided places like in movies. Downtown has a couple of cool places that make this feel like a real city, and that’s one of them. I don’t know why I’m so excited about a restaurant, but I nod more enthusiastically than I should and keep holding my breath until—

“Do you guys wanna come?”

“Yes! Yeah—I mean, yeah, let me just tell Brielle, okay?”

I pause as Dylan picks up his bag and walks away, over to another group of guys. I can’t believe this is actually happening.

“Dude, check this.” Brielle is suddenly at my side, holding out her phone. I look down and see a picture of me from just now—talking to Dylan, smiling. Brielle has just posted it on Facebook. “Operation Boarding School is on, bitches.” She pulls her phone back, putting it in her coat pocket. “Did he invite you to the diner, or what?”

“Yeah,” I say, trying not to laugh out loud. “Can we go?”

“Can we go? We are already there!” Brielle turns and strides toward the gym doors, swinging her arms up in a grand gesture. “What a photo op! I am a genius!”

At two in the morning I’m still online, scrolling through the mobile uploads Brielle put on her wall, my wall, the baseball team’s wall. Me and Dylan in the hall, me and Dylan wedged into the diner booth (seating arrangements by Brielle), me and Dylan at the cool music store a couple of blocks from the diner, me and Dylan at 7-Eleven buying gum. I expand the diner shot again, peering at our faces. Can you tell we’re in love? Everyone can see it, right? Not just me?

We all hung out downtown for hours, walking around in the cold and going into random stores. Brielle unceremoniously disappeared with Marcus around ten, and Dylan offered to drive me home again. I was so happy that I totally forgot I hadn’t called my mom all day and I’d probably be in trouble when we got there. Well, happy, and nervous. It’s not like my last trip in Dylan’s car had been so stress-free.

But tonight was like a brand-new everything. We didn’t even talk, really, while he drove. And when he pulled up in front of my house we both just sat there.

Then he said, “Listen, I’m sorry about—everything.”

“Me too,” I said. I took off my seat belt and glanced over at him. His short hair was tucked into a wool cap and his long eyelashes glittered a little in the streetlamp light coming through the windshield. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes halfway, smelling his aftershave.

“I don’t know what to do now. I really like you.”

My eyes snapped open again. “I really like you, too,” I said, the words rushing out. “I’ve always really liked you.”

I was sure I’d said too much, but then Dylan leaned over and kissed me. Really soft, gently. Like a kiss good-bye. Except it felt more like a hello kiss, a new beginning.

He pulled back a little bit, just enough so we could see each other, and breathed in, like he had more to say.