Shut Out(36)

Cash cleared his throat. “I’m ready to get out of here, anyway.”

I sighed. It was probably better that I didn’t get my answers. I couldn’t take more hurt tonight.

“Lissa? Come on. Seriously, I’ll drive you.”

I thought about arguing with him again, but I was too tired, too angry, and too lost to even try. He was right; I couldn’t walk home, and who could I ask for a ride? I was sure Chloe and the other girls were pissed at me for how I’d misled them about my sex life, and there was no way I’d let Randy drive me home after what I’d seen.

“Fine,” I muttered. “A ride home would be nice…. Thank you.”

“No problem,” he said. “My car’s on the back side of the lot.”

As we crossed the parking lot, I heard a muffled round of cheers go up from inside the gymnasium, and I was sure Mrs. Romali had just crowned Randy Homecoming king.





chapter sixteen


“Look,” Cash said as we pulled away from the high school. “I know you don’t want to talk about it. That’s understandable. But… But just so you know, he’s a jackass. Any decent guy wouldn’t have done that to you.”

If I’d had the nerve, I would have reminded him that a decent guy wouldn’t have kissed me, acted like I was special, and then forgotten about me, either.

Instead, I just ran my fingers through my hair and said, “Thanks.”

We went along in silence as Cash’s Toyota turned through the dark, curving roads of Hamilton toward the subdivision where I lived. The dream I’d had Tuesday night slithered into my thoughts. The feel of his hands on my hips, his breath on my neck, my head leaning back against the bookshelves as his lips traced a line between my jaw and shoulder. It had been so private, had felt so real and good. Sitting beside him now, in the dim glow of the speedometer’s light, with only a foot or less space separating us—I felt claustrophobic and… guilty.

I wasn’t sure why. I mean, Chloe was right. I couldn’t control whom my dreams were about, and it wasn’t like I’d cheated on Randy.

It wasn’t like he felt guilty for cheating on me.

I glanced at Cash out of the corner of my eye. He was facing out toward the road ahead of us, and I watched as the passing streetlamps cast the silhouette of his profile across the car. Strong jaw, straight nose, broad shoulders. It felt strangely intimate to watch him drive, his eyes on the road instead of looking back at me.

I wanted to kiss Cash again. Right now. I wanted him to pull the car over and make out with me right there on the side of the road. I don’t know if I wanted to spite Randy or just lose myself. Either one sounded good. I could still remember the way Cash’s lips had felt on mine—in real life, not just in my dream—and how much I’d liked it. How special it had made me feel.

But Cash had rejected me once already, and after what had just happened with Randy, I knew I couldn’t take it again.

“Do you want me to walk you in?”

“What?” I blinked and realized the car had come to a stop and Cash was looking at me—he’d caught me watching him. Embarrassed, I turned away. We were in front of my house. “N-no,” I stammered, scrambling for the door handle.

“You sure?”

“Positive.” I shoved the door open and slid out of the car, glanced over my shoulder once to mumble “Thank you,” shut the door, and hurried away from the car before I could change my mind.

*

The first time Randy and I broke up was at the end of June, and it was because I wouldn’t sleep with him. Not that either of us advertised that little detail. Instead, I skirted around the truth when people asked, saying, “Things just weren’t working out,” and trusting, of course, that Randy wouldn’t tell anyone the real reason for our breakup—it would make him look like less of a man to his testosterone-crazed friends, after all, if they knew that he couldn’t get into my pants.

The hardest part of that breakup, though, was telling Dad and Logan. They were devastated. They tried not to show it, but all summer long they said things like “I’m sure you two will work it out” and “I wonder how Randy’s doing—I bet he misses you.” Little hints that I should call him or give things another shot.

They were thrilled when we got back together after the car accident. Little did they know I’d promised to sleep with Randy when we reconciled—a promise I never kept.

So here I was, barely two months later, walking down the stairs in my Rainbow Brite pajamas, preparing to tell them that we’d split up again—for good this time.

Dad was sitting at the table eating a bowl of Raisin Bran when I came into the kitchen. “Morning, sunshine,” he said cheerfully. “How was the dance? I didn’t even notice you come in last night, but when Logan got home he peeped into your room and you were in there, fast asleep.”

“Yeah,” I said, sitting down across from him and pouring my own bowl of cereal. “You were watching a game when I got home. I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Aw, that’s all right. My team lost, anyway. So how was the dance?”

“Um.” I took a bite of cereal, chewing slowly to put this off as long as I could. “Actually, we should talk…. Where’s Logan?”