At my expression, Kennedy tries to smile and ease the conversation. "You're such a fast reader. I can't believe you're already on your third book when it hasn't even been a week."
I shrug. "I started the first one before the holidays and I have a lot of time to read, in the evenings, you know."
"Yeah, you always disappear into your room with Liam after dinner," she says. "I barely see you after nine."
"Did you want to spend more time together?" I ask. Shit, we should, if we're dating and all. Back in Easton, we didn't get a chance to spend as much time together. Now, we're living together, and we still don't hang out as often and one would expect.
"Oh, no," Kennedy says, waving a hand. "I'm happy hanging out with the girls. I'm glad you're getting along with Liam."
I chew on a mouthful of greens, thinking of what to say. "He's a good guy. To you. And to Bonnie and Erin. And everyone."
"And you," Kennedy adds.
"Yeah."
Kennedy smiles. "Sometimes you can be very shy, you know."
I try to think of a reply to that, but by the time I have some kind of response, it's been too long, and we've settled into another silence.
After we finish our lunches, we walk to the supermarket, pointing out interesting things about the landscape that don't equate to proper conversations. If Liam were here, he would have begun a riveting conversation. He's so good at talking, and maybe I'm good at talking to people like my parents' colleagues, but Liam can get anyone involved in conversation.
I wish I was like that. Kennedy's my girlfriend. I should be able to have a good conversation with her.
My body prickles with panic. I'm overthinking. Who cares? I don't need to talk to Kennedy all the time. Silence isn't bad. It's just that I remember we used to talk more when we first started dating because we were still getting to know each other. But now, I feel as if we talk less and less.
We buy a packet of condoms — thank god for self-serve checkouts — and walk back to the beach house. We've just turned back onto the ocean-front road when the words just come out. "Liam said something, the other day."
"Good or bad?" Kennedy asks.
"Um." I swallow. "It was when we were sailing. It was a comment he made, and he never said it again, but I've just remembered it —"
"So it was bad," Kennedy says. "God's sake —"
"No," I interrupt. "I mean, it wasn't a compliment, but…" I look down at my feet. Maybe I shouldn't say it. Better to play it safe and not cause trouble. My parents taught me to always be diplomatic.
I glance at the bulge in my pocket where I've stored the box of condoms. Kennedy and I have dated for three months. We're going to have sex.
"Just say it, Curtis," Kennedy says.
I hesitate.
"Curtis."
"He implied we were only dating because we're horny. He said something like, 'the things teenagers do for lust'."
Kennedy stares at me, but she's not so taken aback as to stop walking. "Oh," she says.
"Yeah," I mumble, sticking my hands into my pocket. I feel like a primary school kid, snitching on a classmate to the teacher.
Kennedy gathers herself. "I didn't know Liam was still being a dick to you. I thought he stopped on this trip."
"It was when we were sailing," I clarify. "He's been friendly, it's just that this was before we cleared up a misunderstanding."
I wonder if Kennedy knows about our conversation about Melanie and Elizabeth. She nods as if she does — in fact, now that I think about it, Liam must have warned her against me, and she still dated me, regardless.
"Still, he shouldn't have said that to you." Kennedy looks at me. "Don't worry about it, Curtis. Liam's just being cynical about high school relationships. It's not a big deal."
"What do you mean, cynical?"
