My jealousy toward her dissolves, just a little. “Thanks. I did miss it here.”
Alex reappears with two carry-out platters wrapped in a plastic bag. “Go forth and feed the masses.”
“Cool, I’m starving.” Lacey hands over the credit card, and Alex quickly rings up the transaction. “See y’all later.”
I watch as she leaves. When I look back, Alex is staring at me. Smiling.
“What?” I ask, embarrassed and defensive at the same time.
“You don’t have to worry about Lacey.”
“Who said I was worrying about Lacey?”
Ugh, my attempt to be cool about this is quickly backfiring. EvenIcan hear it.
Alex stares at me, raising an eyebrow. “You do remember that you’re the one I kissed the other day, right?”
Heat flows through my body, creeping up the back of my neck as I remember the gentle desperation of his lips on mine. That’s not a moment I’m likely to forget.
We finish our meal and then, as promised, Alex brings a variety of pan dulce for us to share as dessert. I’m lost in our conversation. His eyes never leave mine as I bring up memories of all the notes we wrote to each other on Starburst wrappers we eventually turned into bracelets. He admits to keeping them, and I tell him I have mine, too. We switch to discussing ideas for his screenplay, and I scribble down notes on a napkin, growing warm as he leans closer to watch me write.
In the quiet, I hear a soft buzzing noise. My phone. I dig through my book bag and find it buried at the very bottom. And crap.Triple crap.There are fourteen missed calls from my dad. I check the screen: 9:43 p.m. I’m never home this late. He must be wondering where the hell I am.
Alex looks at me. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm. I fire off a quick text to my dad to let him know I’m on my way and that I’ll explain when I get home. “I forgot to tell my dad I was going out. I should get back.”
“I can take you back to your car,” he insists.
“Actually,” I say, feeling brave. “Want to drive me home?”
I want this to feel like a first date—one that doesn’t end in me abruptly leaving. I can always get a ride to school in the morning.
“Sure,” Alex replies, nervously fumbling for his keys.
I spend the entire ride home wondering if Alex will kiss me goodnight, or if I should be the one to make the first move. But when he rounds the corner onto my street, I immediately realize my mistake. Because they’re there. All of them—my dad and Nonnie and Saylor—gathered in my front yard for the entire world to see.
THIRTY
“WHO ARE THOSE PEOPLE?”Alex asks.
I’m frozen in my seat. I blink once. Twice. But they’re all still standing there. Nonnie in her cat slippers and her zebra-print bathrobe and Saylor, barefoot, in his familiar black yoga tank and loose ponytail. My dad looks angrier than I’ve ever seen him. His arms are folded across his navy work polo, his eyebrows narrowed. He’s no doubt making assumptions as to why I’m not in my own car and why, exactly, I’m riding in a beat-up truck with a boy this late at night.
Who are those people?How do I even begin to answer that? I can’t. Not with anything that isn’t the truth, and if the truth comes out—
This is my fault. I promised myself I wouldn’t let anyone come close to finding out and the one time I’m not careful, everyone is right outside my house. I should have driven myself, should’ve told Alex I’d see him at school tomorrow. But I wanted to pretend nothing was out of the ordinary, that I was just a girl on a date with a boy she likes. Someone who has nothing to hide. Now it’s too late.
Nonnie steps back onto the porch and walks inside the house, but that doesn’t make anything better, because Alex sees her go. I can see him attempting to put the pieces together.
“Hey, are you okay? Do you need—?”
Heat burns through my cheeks. I have to get out of here.
I grab my bag from the ground and reach for the door handle. “I should—”
I don’t finish that sentence. As soon as I’m out the door, Wallis lunges for me. Saylor calls him off before he can pounce on me, which would have furthered my humiliation. I wish everyone would go back inside, but I realize it doesn’t matter now. The damage is already done.
“Where the hell were you?” my dad says as soon as I’m within earshot. Angry wrinkles appear between his brows. “I expected you homehoursago. You told me you’d be home after practice.”
