Jesus Freaks: The Prodigal (Jesus Freaks #2)(59)

I puff my cheeks like I’m going to throw up. “He was trying to be all sweet and swoony and he just came off like the ass he’s always been.”

“And I’m sure it seems dialed up since you’ve changed so much, even if he’s remained the same.”

“What?” I whip my head toward her. “I’ve changed so much?”

Mollie shrugs. “Calm down. I mean … like … in this context. Come on, Kennedy. Sure you’re lip is still pierced and you let your hair do that messy wavy bedroom-looking thing you do, but look at what you’re wearing. You’ve worn less to church before. I’ve seen it. Sundresses, much?”

“It’s thirty degrees, Mollie.”

She waves her hand. “I’m not saying it’s bad. I’m just … saying.”

“Saying what? That my clothes are different?”

“And you immediately clammed up when we walked into Trent’s. You seemed insecure sort of, and you were staring at everyone. I get you were nervous that they’d be staring at you, but you seemed like you were looking at a circus side show.”

It’s amazing how a few months can change things so drastically. In September, it was my CU friends who were in line next to the Bearded Lady. Tonight, it’s my high school friends. Revealing clothing, underage drinking, and undiscussed drug use. What was once taken for granted in my everyday life now sits unsettled in my stomach.

I just want to go home. And, horrifyingly, back to CU to finish out the semester.

“Just don’t change too much, okay?” Mollie begs cheerfully. “I need my snarky best friend to make fun of everyone with me, okay?”

I force a grin. “Of course. Who else can I talk to about what the hell Tara is always doing with her damn hair?”

In a chorus of giggles, Mollie and I make our way back to my house talking about who’s gained weight, lost weight, and seemingly changed genders or sexuality. Mostly, conversations I never have with my CU friends.

Still, I’m missing them now. Badly. Especially Matt, who wouldn’t dream of putting his hands all over me and dragging me around like Trent did tonight. All except that one time he threw me over his shoulder and raced me to his dorm. The thought puts a contented smile on my face.

“Nice face,” Mollie calls me out. “Did Trent’s lips really feel that good on your forehead?”

I flip her the middle finger and turn down my driveway, longing for the security my CU friends offer me.

Mollie aside, I don’t want to be one of these people anymore.

I’m not sure I want to be one of those people either, thinking through my classes and the people in them.

Sigh.

I miss Matt.





CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE





Just Tonight


Matt.




One might think that an entire semester of Old Testament class might be able to cover, you know, the whole Old Testament.

That person would be wrong.

Fighting to keep my eyes open in the middle of our second week back from Thanksgiving break, I’m also fighting to rid my mind of the images from that night at The Pink Pony.

I can’t ever do that again.

Whatever high I thought I felt that night while falling asleep was obliterated by sickening regret as soon as the sun rose. I didn’t sleep much that night, and what sleep I did get was littered with dreams of images I shouldn’t be seeing anywhere, never mind my subconscious. The next morning it was easy enough to lie my way out of why I hadn’t shown up at the Homecoming party.

Of course, Brad Jenks’ mom had called my mom, asking where I’d been. With a simple wave of my hand, I told them I ended up going out for a drive, exhausted from a long semester at school.

I couldn’t look my mom in the eye.

Right now, though, the only thing keeping my eyes open and focused during class is Kennedy. She’s taken to sitting next to me every class, and even though I haven’t talked that much with her since we arrived back on campus, it’s comforting to have her nearby.

With her eyes forward on the professor, she lightly elbows me and slides her notebook to the left side of her desk, allowing me to see her writing on the page: You’re staring at me. Don’t be weird. Flickering my eyes back to her face, I watch half of her mouth turn up into a grin.

To be honest, I’ve thought she’s been a bit weird since break. Quieter, not scrunching her eyebrows and forehead as much, and seemingly more peaceful. Not that I don’t want any of these things for her, but she’s not really indicated a reason for the sudden change in her demeanor.

I have a million things I want to write back to her. Like, of course I’m staring at you, you’re gorgeous. But, that would be inappropriate. I have no business going after a preacher’s daughter. Not when I think God can take a flying leap. Even if I don’t know exactly where Kennedy’s heart’s at right now, I know where mine is, and no one should come within ten-feet of it.

I haven’t prayed in weeks. During nightly floor prayers, my mind keeps going back to the girls on the stage at the strip club. How did they get there? Why are they staying there? What did I hope to find there? I know I said I could never go there again, but, really, I’m visiting that place in my mind every few minutes—seconds—during the day. Maybe I really am exactly like my father, after all. Some sick anti-hero in God’s bullshit of a play.