The Way to Game the Walk of Shame(66)

“You don’t have to say it. I did kind of spring it on you. I had all these scenarios of how I would tell you, and blurting it out like that wasn’t one of them. And you holing up at home is a pretty clear indication of how you feel.” He swallowed loudly. “Right?”

I hesitated for a second and gave him a small nod. I didn’t want to hurt him, but it wasn’t right to lead him on anymore. Even if we did try to give it a shot, it would never work out. No matter how many chips were in our favor. I couldn’t make the feelings suddenly appear. Mom was right. I had to go where my heart wanted me to be. Even if it meant it could get broken. Even if Evan only considered me a friend.

Brian gave me a half smile and tapped his temple with his index finger. His left dimple appeared. “I figured. I’m not the smartest person in school for nothing, you know.”

Feeling awful, I pushed my green ottoman toward him. “So are you going to sit down or what?”

“Well, with an invitation like that, how can I refuse?” Instead of sitting, though, he straddled it. His feet kicked at the carpet while his finger poked at the torn hole in his faded jeans.

Twiddling my thumbs, I said the first thing that came to mind. “I’ve never seen you in old jeans before.”

He looked down as though he had forgotten what he was wearing. “Yeah, it’s been a while. I forgot how comfortable they were.”

“Why didn’t you ever wear them before?” Were we seriously discussing his clothes choices? Out of everything else we could have talked about, why did I—

“Because of you.”

“What?”

Brian shrugged. A light blush was on his high cheekbones. “Carly told me before that you liked guys who dressed up so … you know.” He gestured toward his jeans.

I blinked at him. That was the one answer I wasn’t expecting, but it was the sweetest, most perfect answer. There really was no other way to describe him. “Oh … sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. It was kind of a stupid plan.” He shifted from side to side and ran his fingers through his dark hair. “Although can you do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

His blue-striped feet knocked against the bottom of the ottoman. “Could we forget about the other day and just go back to being friends?”

My heart wrenched. Again. But I couldn’t help the relief that swept through me. I wasn’t going to lose him as a friend after all.

Unable to help myself, I got up and wrapped my arms around him for a tight hug. His arms instantly came down around me. It was warm and comforting, like a bowl of soup when you’re sick. Or your thickest favorite sweatshirt when it’s cold outside. He squeezed tightly once before pushing me away.

Brian cleared his throat and shook his head. His black bangs fell into his face, covering his eyes. He still needed a haircut. “I stopped by your physics class to pick up your missed classwork, and it turns out you didn’t miss a single thing. It was his son’s birthday, so he had a party in his class. All day.” He laughed loudly. “I was a fool not to take that class.”

Taking the hint, I smiled and sat back on the sofa. “But you needed that biology class to get into the premed program at Tulane. You could still change your mind about that, you know.”

“I think we both know that Tulane and med school afterward are NOT going to happen. Poring over books all night long and cutting into cadavers the first year? No, thank you.”

“I didn’t think so.”

We continued talking about our classes as if the past two days hadn’t happened, then he had to leave for a biology quiz. It was nice to have my friend back. Even if it was only for just a little bit.





24

-Evan-

My mind was still stuck on Taylor when I pulled into the garage that afternoon. Her face. The way she hadn’t even looked at me when she mumbled goodbye and ran into her house after the aquarium. And then she didn’t come to school for the next two days. Something else was wrong. Something more than just Columbia. It killed me that I didn’t know what it was. That she didn’t trust me enough to tell me. And that I couldn’t fix it for her.

I grabbed a Coke from the fridge and headed toward the stairs when something in the corner of the dark living room moved. The hairs on my neck stood up. I was always the first person home. Every day.

I grabbed the closest thing at hand—Mom’s blue-and-yellow flowered umbrella—and I crept into the room. Then I used my elbow to flick on the light and leapt forward. My right hand waved the umbrella in the air like a sword or a lightsaber.

Mom shrank back on the couch. Her wide eyes stared at me while both hands clutched at her chest. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, hi.” I dropped my arm and coughed with embarrassment. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were there. I’ll just—let me put this back.” I shoved the umbrella back in its wooden stand. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”

Her hands fell to the cushions on either side of her. She looked around the room as though she didn’t know herself. “I was just thinking about stuff while I waited for you.”

“For me?”

I waited for her to continue, but she didn’t. Instead, she reached out to organize the magazines and glass coasters on the table. They were the kind that you could put a picture in. There were some with Mom and me and some with Mom and Brandon. None of us all together. There was no point in forcing the family label on us when we weren’t one.