Shut Out(21)

“But the actress—she was pretty hot,” he said. “That shower sex scene was… wow.”

I rolled my eyes. Tonight, after such a great date, I was totally loosened up. “She had a butt double. You know, where someone stands in as the actress’s butt? It wasn’t even edited well.”

Randy grinned at me. “Jealous?”

“Of her butt double? No.”

He leaned forward, putting his hands flat on the bed, one on either side of my waist. “You’re really hot when you’re jealous,” he told me. “But there’s no need to be. Because, to tell you the truth, you know what I was thinking during that scene?”

“Do I want to know?” I asked.

“I was thinking about how much I wanted to reenact that part in the shower with my hot”—he kissed my cheek—“sexy”—he kissed my neck—“gorgeous girlfriend.” He kissed my lips gently at first, then pulled away just a little. “And how she wouldn’t need a butt double because she’s perfect already.”

“You smooth talker, you.”

“I was also thinking how much sexier I am than that guy she was screwing in the shower.”

I laughed.

“I am, aren’t I?”

Instead of answering—because, to be honest, the actor in the movie was pretty fine—I closed the gap between us and kissed Randy again. We sat there on his bed making out for a while, but after a few minutes I felt Randy’s hand on the small of my back as he tried to ease me backward.

I pulled away, putting a hand on his chest. “No—I mean, not tonight.”

For a second I felt guilty, as Randy’s hands dropped away from me and he turned to stare in the other direction. We’d really had a wonderful night, and I hated to ruin it by upsetting him.

But I’d taken an oath, and it would be worth it in the end. The rivalry would be over soon, and Randy and I could have many more perfect dates just like this one.

“You want to watch a movie or something?” I asked, standing up and straightening my skirt over my thighs.

“I don’t understand,” he said. “The night has been so great—you had a good time, right?”

“Yes. Of course I did.”

“Then why not end it on a good note? Make it special?”

“I just… don’t feel like it tonight. But we can watch a movie or something, and that will end it on a good note, too.”

“We just watched a movie.”

“We can watch another one.”

“Lissa,” he whined, giving me puppy-dog eyes, “please? If you don’t want to, we can, like, do other stuff.” His suggestive smirk made it clear that “other stuff” didn’t mean watching a movie.

I stared down at the carpet, fiddling with the hem of my skirt. “I told you. I just don’t feel like it tonight.”

He tilted his head to one side and stuck out his lip like a pouting toddler. “Come on. I’ll do anything. I’ll beg.” He flopped onto his back, sticking his hands in the air like a dog waiting for his belly to be rubbed. He even made whimpering pup noises.

“Stop it,” I said. “You’re silly.”

“You love me.”

“I do.”

He sat up and looked at me seriously. “Then why not?”

I could have told him about the strike then, about our demands that the rivalry end, but I couldn’t force the words out. After the good date, I didn’t want to upset Randy more than I had to—and I knew that finding out about the strike wouldn’t exactly lighten his mood.

“I’m kind of tired,” I told him. “I got up early this morning to finish some homework and I’m just exhausted. I’m sorry. But you don’t have to take me home yet. We can just curl up on the couch…. What do you say?”

Randy sighed and stood up. “Yeah, I guess that sounds okay. This night is supposed to be all about you, after all.” He kissed me on the cheek. “But this means we have to have a night all about me soon, where everything goes my way.” He grinned and squeezed my shoulder before heading out of the room and walking downstairs.

That won’t be happening anytime soon, I thought guiltily, before following him down to the living room, where we ended our date with a little couch cuddling and a Leonardo DiCaprio movie.





chapter nine


“Hey, Lissa!”

I was on my way to AP US History the next Tuesday afternoon when Susan Port, girlfriend of Luther, a linebacker, caught my arm. Before I could jerk away, she dragged me into the closest girls’ bathroom.

“You,” she began, letting go of my arm and spinning to face me. I flinched, thinking I was in trouble. Like maybe she was mad at me for some reason—and that wouldn’t have boded well for me. Susan was on the girls’ basketball team. She was, like, five-eleven and built. If she wanted to, she could have really hurt me.

But when our eyes met, a huge grin spread across her face.

“You, Lissa Daniels, are a f*cking genius.”

I sighed with relief, and Susan laughed.

“For real,” she said. “Luther and I went out on Saturday night. We went to The Nest, and I looked good. I mean, Beyoncé good. He wanted to take me up to Lyndway Hill for a little fun afterward, but I totally made him drive me home instead. He was so confused. He would have done anything.”