Shut Out(71)

One by one, the girls went back to their boyfriends. Some threw themselves into the boys’ arms and started making out right away—kind of gross—while others walked over more slowly, clearly needing to say something that was on their minds.

Like maybe they’d thought about their relationships, about sex.

Like maybe this whole thing had changed them as much as it had changed me.

“Lissa.”

I glanced to my left and jumped when I realized that Randy was standing right next to me, a goofy grin plastered across his face. A few weeks ago I thought that grin was cute. Now, after all that had happened, it felt empty.

“What do you want?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest.

“I want to talk,” he said.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

I started to turn away, but he caught me by the arm. “Lissa, wait. Please.”

“Dude,” I heard Shane say from a few yards away. “Randy, leave her alone. You f*cked this up already.”

“Shut up, Shane,” Randy barked over his shoulder. Then he looked at me again, his puppy face coming out. “I miss you,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry I acted the way I did. But it’s over now. The rivalry and the strike. You got what you wanted, so… When can we go back to normal? To being us?”

I just stared at him, stunned, unable to believe he really thought his puppy eyes and a half apology were enough to make me want him back.

At the end of the summer, it had been enough.

But it wasn’t anymore.

“Never,” I told him. “We’re never going to go back to being normal, Randy. Because you are the same person you were two months ago. I’m not. I’m not the same girl who let you make me feel guilty for not doing the things you wanted me to do. I’m done with that, and I’m done with you.” I pulled my arm free of his and, feeling a little evil, smiled up at him. “And I am so, so happy I never had sex with you.”

Randy flinched, looking wounded, but not wounded enough to satisfy me completely.

“Can’t we go somewhere?” he whispered. “Can’t we talk about this? Lissa, I love you. You owe it to me to give us a shot.”

“I owe you absolutely nothing.”

“Lissa, please—”

“Hey.”

Randy turned to look over his shoulder as someone came near us. My heart began to race when I realized it was Cash. For a second, I was worried that he’d misinterpret the situation, that he’d see me and Randy talking and think I’d changed my mind, think we were getting back together again.

“Do you mind?” Randy asked. “I’m trying to have a conversation here.”

“Yeah,” Cash said. “I do mind.”

I felt a jolt of joy as Cash brushed past Randy and stopped by me. He reached out a hand, and I took it. Then, right there in front of Randy, Cash pulled me into his arms and kissed me.

Not a sloppy, groping, make-out kiss—the kind no one wants to see in public. It wasn’t like that. But it was a warm, passionate, sweet kiss that, despite lasting only a few seconds, left me breathless.

“Ready to get out of here?” Cash asked, slowly pulling his mouth away from mine but still keeping me wrapped in his arms.

I just nodded, and he smiled.

“Excuse us,” Cash said, bumping past a shocked-looking Randy and holding my hand as he led me down the hill toward the back road where his car was located.

“You’re smooth,” I told him as he opened the car door for me.

“I’m learning.”

A second later, when he climbed into the seat beside me and turned the key in the ignition, I asked, “So are you going to tell me where we’re headed?”

“I was thinking of keeping it a surprise,” Cash said. “Will that drive you crazy? I know you like to know the plan, usually so you can critique it. So I’ll tell you if that’ll make you more comfortable.”

I sighed and reached across the console to take his right hand as he used his left to steer. “Don’t tell me,” I said. “Yes, it’ll drive me crazy, but… I’m learning, too.”





Acknowledgments


Writing is a team sport, and the author only one player on the field.

I’d like to thank my MVPs, the people without whom none of this could happen. Kate Sullivan, who takes my best and pushes it to new heights—I could not have asked for a better editor. And Joanna Volpe, who not only knew what Lysistrata was but also supported this crazy, loose retelling from day one—thanks for believing in this, and in all my other wacky ideas; I always know I can rest easy when the ball is in your court.

Thanks also go to Cindy Eagan, Lisa Sabater, JoAnna Kremer, Stacy Cantor Abrams, Alison Impey, and the rest of the crew at Little, Brown and Poppy. I’m so lucky to have you all on my team.

Much love to Shelby Bach, who was patient enough to explain soccer to me (I know what a midfielder is now! Woo!) and Veronica Roth, who was always so willing to help. Special thanks also go to the girls of YA Highway, who have served as both my friends and my therapists over these past few years. And to Amy Lukavics—thanks for making me feel like the coolest girl in the world, even when I’m down.

I’d be nowhere without the support of my friends: Molly, Shana, Jamie, Ashlyn, Becca, Rachel, Gaelyn, Meredith, Alyssa, Hannah, Nicole, Cody, Kyle, and so, so many others—I wish I could name you all. My friends, you have put up with quite a lot from me. For that, I am forever grateful.