Liars and Losers Like Us(17)

She lifts her head and sweeps over me with these gorgeous deep brown saucer eyes. If they weren’t projecting that gleam of mean, I’d probably be offering to buy her a biscotti. “Excuse me Britney.”

“Uhh-sorry?” I ask. I mean, really. She wasn’t watching where she was going either. “Bree. My name’s Bree.”

“Oh yeah, I know that, my bad. Okay, well, excuse you. You almost ran into me.”

“Sure. Sorry,” I say with a tight smile as she turns on her high-heeled boot. I sigh and grab my stuff. As I’m walking back to Sean’s table I realize I’m following Jane.

I hope she’s not going where I think she’s—

Both of us end up at Sean’s table and, um, yeah, awkward. Sean tells Jane he’s gotta go and is leaving with me. She shoots me another evil laser eye beam and I shrug, pretending to blend alongside two of the prettiest people at Belmont High.

Jane shifts her gaze from me to Sean. “You didn’t drive? I can bring you.”

“It’s okay, I don’t …” I say.

Sean says, “She’s going my way anyway.”

“Still. It’s cool, Britta, I’ve got it.”

My eyes bounce back and forth between Sean and Jane as I gnaw the inside of my cheek.

“Britta, like the water filters?” Sean asks Jane and rolls his eyes, “C’mon Jane. You know her name’s Bree. I gotta get going. I’ll see you in Geometry tomorrow.”

“Fine.” Her eyes bug out a little and she shrugs. “Well, try to have an answer for me by tomorrow please.”

He slings his backpack over his shoulder and ushers me ahead using his free hand to hold open the door. I glimpse Jane out of my peripheral vision still standing at the table. I don’t catch the look on her face, but in my mind it’s a pretty sweet combination of pissed and envy.

Sean follows me to my car, an old silver Toyota Prius that Mom and Dad bought from Aunt Jen and gave me for Christmas my junior year. I slide into the front seat, and right before clicking the unlock door button a second time to let Sean in, I speed-throw a makeup bag, book of Shakespeare sonnets, plastic baggie of hair binders, and three water bottles into the backseat. I apologize to Sean for the messy car and again about the coffee, but he stops me and says he should be thanking me for getting him away from Jane.

“That girl thinks she can have what she wants just cause she’s hot. She hijacked my study session with a sob story about how her supposed date is now backing out of Prom. Then says she’s free to go with me—as if she’s doing me a favor. I’m surprised she didn’t slap me across the face when I told her I’d have to think about it. Her sense of entitlement is ridiculous.” Sean directs me with a series of rights and lefts to get to his house.

“So, you didn’t drive—what’s up with that?” I ask.

Sean scoots the seat back and adjusts the seat belt. “My mom dropped me off. We share a car now, now that …” He looks out the window. “Since my dad lost his job last year and took off last month to … pffft, I don’t know, I guess he’s living with his sister in Wisconsin somewhere.”

“That’s funny,” I say.

“Funny?”

“No, I mean funny because my parents just got divorced and my dad’s living with his brother. It seems pretty lame.”

“I guess. Lame. Yeah, if I was going to shirk my responsibilities and leave my family in the dust it’d have to be for something pretty badass, like joining a rock band or moving to LA to write music—not for my sister’s basement.”

“It really doesn’t make sense if you think about it. Eff those guys,” I say.

He laughs. “You’re funny. It’s this one,” he says pointing to a small but cute ranch-style house only about five blocks away from my house.

“Did you know you lived so close to me? We’re almost neighbors.”

“Yeah,” he answers. “I’ve seen you in your car a few times around here, so I figured you live close or deliver pizzas on the side.”

“Sounds like you’re kind of stalking me. Which is all fun and games until I see your fingers gripping my window on some dark rainy night.”

“I might try that. Actually, we just moved here. Things got weird right before my dad left so we had to move and find somewhere to rent—long story, but we’ve been here about a month.”

We make small talk in my car for a few more minutes. Then, as he gathers his backpack and sweatshirt and opens the car door, he turns toward me. “Do you want to hang out Friday?” The way he’s squinting his eyes throws me off a little.

I squint back. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he answers, “it’s just … um, I dunno, I didn’t know if you already had plans or if you’d want to, I mean, it’s okay if you don’t, but, geez—I sound like an idiot, help me out here?”

I smile. “Yes, that sounds good. Friday. Got it.”

“Okay, well thanks again for the ride and the free coffee for my pants.”

“You’re welcome—I aim to please.”

“See ya later,” he says and the car door squeaks to a thud.

Aim to please? Jesus. My stomach flutters anyway as I back out of his driveway and head home. A Maroon 5 song comes on and I crank the volume way up, popping my shoulders to the beat as I sing loud and slightly (okay, way) off-key all the way home.