Secrets & Lies: Two Short Stories(9)

Chapter Four


“Okay, so, question,” I said. Toby and I were on our way home from a date one night, and I’d noticed he was wearing the same blazer he’d worn to the French film on our first “accidental” date. “Whatever happened to the blazer from the party? The one the hacky-sack idiots spilled beer on? I never see you wear it anymore.”

“You really want to know?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’m just curious.”

“Um, well… it’s ruined.”

“What?”

“The blow-dryer kind of locked in the beer stink. And shrunk it.”

“OMG.” I buried my face in my hands. “I’m so sorry! Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you stop me?”

“It wasn’t that nice of a blazer,” he said. “I was willing to let you ruin it that night just so I could keep hanging out with you.”

“You’re ridiculously sweet,” I said. “But I really am sorry. I’ll get you a new one.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Although, that reminds me. I have a question for you, too. But it might be a little awkward.”

“I’m intrigued.”

He stared straight out the windshield, not taking his eyes off the road. “I know this—us—is new. Really new. I don’t even know if you think of us as serious or just a fling, but—Well, I’m not asking about that, but—”

I almost laughed. “What exactly are you asking, then?”

“Are we exchanging Christmas gifts?”

“Oh.” I twirled a lock of my hair around my finger. “Well, I hadn’t thought about it. And I don’t want you to feel obligated or anything.”

“I don’t feel obligated,” he insisted. “Okay, maybe I should rephrase. I found something I want to get you for Christmas. But I wasn’t sure how that would make you feel. I don’t want you to feel obligated or uncomfortable, I just—”

“I like presents,” I said.

“What?”

“I know it sounds materialistic and shallow,” I admitted. “But I love presents. I will never turn one down. I even accept all the frilly, pink, sparkly things Jess gives me. That’s how much I like presents.”

Toby laughed.

“And I might get you something, too,” I said, grinning at him. “Just maybe.”

“Well, if you’re feeling generous,” he said, the corners of his mouth tilting upward, “I am in need of a new blazer.”

“No,” I said. “No, you’re not.”

“You don’t like the blazers?”

“I don’t like anything that covers up your arms,” I said. “Don’t think I didn’t notice them. You started working out, didn’t you, Harvard Boy?”

He blushed. Deep red. “Occasionally.”

“Well, I like it. The blazers just get in my way.”

He pulled into a gas station on the edge of Hamilton. “I’ll be back in a second,” he said. “Just have to fill the tank. Do you need anything?”

“No, thanks. I’m good.”

“Okay. I’ll BRB, as you’d say.”

“Shut up!” I laughed.

“You mean STFU?”

“Get out!” I shoved his shoulder playfully and he climbed out of the car, chuckling. I leaned back in my seat and stared out the window, a smile still on my lips. It seemed like I was always smiling around him.

I almost didn’t see the Porsche pull into the gas station. But when I did, a wave of panic smashed into me. That car could only belong to one person in this town—Wesley. Bianca’s Wesley. I let out a little yelp and dove beneath the edge of the window, my long body scrunched down as low as it could possibly go. Stupidly, I found myself holding my breath. As if Wesley might hear me breathing from across the parking lot.

I stayed in that cramped position until the driver’s side door opened. “So, I know you said you didn’t want anything, but—”

“Shh!” I hissed. “Is he gone?”

“Who? Casey, what are you doing down there?” Toby asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Shh,” I said again. “Is Wesley inside? His car pulled in a second ago. Did he go inside yet?”

“Umm.” Toby looked over his shoulder. “He… just walked in.”

“Good.” I eased back up. “Hurry and get in before he walks back out here.”

Toby got into the car and shut the door. He’d started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot before he asked, “Why, exactly, were you hiding from Wesley Rush?”

“Because I didn’t want him to see me in your car,” I said.

“So… us going out is still a secret?”

“I just haven’t told Bianca yet,” I said.

“Have you told anyone yet?”

“No.”

“Right.” He sighed.

“Because they might tell B,” I insisted. “My mom knows, though. That’s something.”

“Is there… is there more of a reason you haven’t told Bianca yet?” Toby asked. He seemed nervous.

“What do you mean?”