Blind Kiss(43)

“Penny, I love you. You’re my best friend. I fucked up and I’m sorry.” He was squeezing my hand. “Please forgive me.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m dating Lance now,” I lied.

He swallowed hard. “What? I thought you didn’t date.”

“I never said that. I said that I wasn’t ready to date when we met. I said I would see where our friendship took us, and I asked you to wait. You didn’t. And when I needed you most, you weren’t there. I hardly knew Lance before this accident but he’s been here every day—unlike you. The only reason he’s not here now is because he’s taking his last final. In fact, he’ll be here soon.”

Gavin was shaking his head.

“You should leave before he gets back.”

“You’re overreacting,” he said. “Don’t go jumping into some bio-nerd’s arms.”

“I resent that. My father is a microbiologist. A very intelligent, kind, loving, loyal, and reliable man.”

“How many times am I going to have to say I’m sorry?”

“Until I feel like forgiving you, I guess. Look at me!” I pointed to my knee, wrapped in a wad of bandages and elevated in a sling.

“I’m looking at you. I always see you, Penny.” His eyes were intense.

“No, look at me.” I started to cry. “I’ll never dance again.”

“Shhh, don’t cry, please. Your mother said the surgery was a success.”

“I’ll never dance again. Not like before.”

The nurse came in. Gavin and I went quiet. She saw the tears and said, “I’ll ask the doctor to up your dosage. We brought it down before you went into surgery, but clearly you’re in a lot of pain.”

“Thank you,” I mumbled, though I wasn’t in the kind of pain she thought I was.

Gavin was staring—no, more like glaring—at me. The nurse came back a moment later and pushed more morphine through my IV.

That heavy-chested feeling hit me again and my vision got fuzzy. Gavin’s expression turned sympathetic. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

I shook my head.

“Don’t date that guy. Please, P.”

“Go.”

“I love you.”

“Go be with Lottie.” I was fading from the meds. “Go,” I slurred, and then I was out.





19. Three Months Ago


GAVIN

“Ahh!” Penny was screaming with delight as she turned the go-cart swiftly and spun out into the guardrail. When I bumped into her, Milo flew by us in his cart.

Some worker kid yelled, “No bumping!”

Penny was laughing hysterically. “I’m gonna pee my pants,” she squeaked.

“Don’t do that!” I shouted. She was as red as a tomato.

“You’re smiling, Berninger.”

“Am I?”

“I love your smile. I’m glad it’s back.” Penny pointed to Milo in his go-cart, way ahead of us. “Come on,” she said, “he’s kicking our ass. We can’t let him win.”

She took off. I followed behind her, smiling again as I listened to her scream and squeal. She flew from one side of the track to the other with total abandon. Penny was a bad driver, even in a go-cart. Milo crashed in front of us right before the finish line and got stuck. Penny flew by him, yelling, “Ha ha, sucker!” She threw her arms up and grabbed the checkered flag from the worker’s hand.

“Hey!” he yelled, but she couldn’t hear him over her own hysterical laughter.

After she took off her helmet, her hair was flying everywhere. The worker kid came and grabbed the flag out of her hand. “You’re not supposed to do that,” he said.

“I won, though. Don’t I get to keep that thing?”

“No,” he said as he walked away.

She looked at me and smirked. “Twenty bucks for five minutes—in the off-season, no less! I win and I don’t even get to keep the checkered flag.”

“Your hair looks really good right now.”

She socked me in the arm. “Come on, I have to get home and help Milo with some stupid project.”

“Okay.”

I tried to hold her hand on the way to the car, but she pulled out of my grasp.

“Not in front of Milo.”

“That stuff doesn’t even faze him.”

“Yes, it does.”

She drove home like a maniac and I had to remind her we weren’t in go-carts anymore.

Leaving me in the driveway of my dad’s house, she pulled away and then stopped and rolled down the passenger-side window.

“Good day today, huh?”

“Yep,” I said, nodding. “Thanks, you guys.”

I threw up a peace sign at her and she cruised down the street to her house.

My dad’s house was dark and deafeningly quiet. I grabbed a thicker jacket, a beer from the fridge, and my guitar and went out onto the porch. I messed around on the guitar all night, drinking to hopefully pass out later. On my fourth beer, I heard the unmistakable sound of Penny’s ankles cracking and Buckley’s leash jingling.

“Hey,” she said from the curb as Buckley took a shit on my dad’s front lawn.