I paced the living room, hands gripping my hair, then grabbed my bag where it hung by the door and fled the flat, taking huge lungfuls of the cool evening air before lighting a cigarette and leaning against the wall of the building.
Bloody hell, that man was going to kill me.
And I was going to love every second of it.
I stared down at my hands, feeling the urge to draw, since other forms of expression were not readily available. I needed to do something to make up for that disgusting display upstairs. It couldn’t be that hard to prove I was more than a pair of hands and a bucket of hormones.
And just like that, I had an idea.
August 15th
So the plan was to leave directly after the Sunday matinee ofTheShadow of Never, and then make it back before next weekend’s run.
Because I’d offered to drive Skyler to Seattle. A thirteen-hour drive alone in my car with the boy I liked and had refused to kiss.
After dropping Skyler off back at his dorm hours ago, I had driven around for a while, until I was ready to get myself a large double-fudge strawberry blast milkshake with sprinkles, sit in my car in an abandoned parking lot, and cry my eyes out.
I’d wanted so badly for things not to end this way, to turn the tide of the universe away from the inevitable tragi-comic conclusion in which I, sad, lovesick nerd, learned my place like the Duckie I was. Accepted my fate. Grew up and got over and made do.
But Skyler deserved better than my desperate, selfish infatuation. In the same way that I didn’t deserve to be terrorized by Terri Bishop.
I wasn’t Terri’s punching bag, and Skyler wasn’t Batman.
So this wasgood. This was a chance for me to prove what a good friend I could be.
This time I’d be friendly and charming and cool, and my heart wouldn’t climb up into my throat if he looked at me for a little too long with thoseeyes, and his smile wouldn’t make memelt. We’d be friends. I’d be such a good friend.
I was just starting to slide down the other end of the sugar high when my phone buzzed. I squinted at it through my tears and answered, sniffling. “What? Why aren’t you sexing Lucas right now?”
“Titch—” Armand’s voice broke “—that’s... Rrg.” I heard him swallow. “C-can you come get me?”
I sat up from my slump and rubbed my hand across my nose. “Sure, I’ll be right there.”
“Wait, Titch, why are you crying?”
I hung up on him and started Camille, coaxing her out of the drive-through parking lot and toward the Briars complex. Ten minutes later, I found Armand pacing at the base of the stairs; his sleeves were rolled up and his hair was mussed, and his face was shining in the light of the streetlamps—not with tears, with ... holy crap, withpassion. He loped over to the car, yanked the door open, and stuffed himself in, glaring at me in concern. He smelled like cigarettes as usual, and I immediately rolled the window down.
“What happened, Titch?” His eyes widened. “With Skyler?”
“Nothing.” I shook my head, hair fwapping across the bridge of my nose. But I could feel his eyes on me, and while I knew the tension coming off him had everything to do with Lucas and nothing to do with me or Skyler, it was still alotto be near. “Okay, he tried to kiss me.Hetried to kissme. And I stopped him. ’Cause I’mstupid. And now I’m driving him to Seattle on Sunday, so you’re gonna need to find a different ride to the airport.” I glanced over at Armand, who was curled into the tiny seat, arms wrapped around his middle and his knees pressed together. “Like maybeLucas?” I asked pointedly.
“Hnnrg.” Armand shut his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath that made his massive shoulders shudder. “I’d rather not talk about that.” He looked back at me again. “He tried tokissyou? And now you’re running away to Seattle together?”
I bit both my lips and nodded. “He’s going home to see his family, and I’mfinallytrying to be a good friend to him.”
Armand was still watching me, looking—and I’d never felt more justified in using this word—thunderous. I gave him a tragic grin and shrugged. “I told Skyler I’d love to be his friend, i-if he’d have me.” I sighed, flexing my hands on Camille’s threadbare wheel and staring straight out into the dark parking lot. The light of the streetlamps made little yellow puddles that stretched out in a long row, curving across the hills. A few coyotes sang in the distance. “And I’m in the process of getting over myself. It’s a work in progress, okay?”
Armand smiled at me hesitantly. “That’s brilliant, Titch.”
“Oh yeah, no, I feelgreat,” I said dryly, wiping at my eyes and nose again—my voice was the only dry thing about me—but managed to smile back at him. “No, I know how lucky I am. And that I’ve been real shitty about this. Speaking of not being shitty.” I raised my eyebrows at him. “You better say goodbye to him before you leave.”
“I will.” Armand huffed. “He’s a good lad.”
“He is,” I agreed. Then I punched his arm. “Now tell me what the hell happened with Lucas!”
“Ow,” Armand growled, trying to shy away from me but unable to since he was basically curled into a ball in the tiny space he had. “No! Bollocks! It is extremely none of your business!”
“You called me for a reason,” I pointed out.
