“Too many times.”
I concentrate on breathing. “I’m sorry I asked if you were a virgin.”
He doesn’t respond.
I yawn as the car glides down one road and then another. He drives slowly. The wind gently buffets my face as the silence grows denser, all-enveloping, like the darkness outside the vehicle.
“I’m not.”
I blink at him.
He shrugs. “A virgin.”
Even though I presumably lost a large quantity of blood after falling off my bike, apparently I didn’t lose enough. It rushes up to my cheeks until they blaze, and since the lights are on in the car because the trunk is still open, it’s not as though I can hide my blush.
I turn back toward the window. When my street sign appears, I blow out a soft breath. “I’m not either.”
I’m not sure why I lie… Maybe so he doesn’t think I’m lame. But that’s a stupid way of thinking. Virginity isn’t lame.
I’m lame for thinking it’s lame.
I should probably stop thinking altogether.
Ten arrows the car up the driveway. The redbrick house with its white columns looms over us like a menacing, judgmental giant.
“I’ll get your bike out,” he says.
“Thanks.” I look up toward Mom’s bedroom window expecting to meet her disappointed glare, but no one stares back. Praying she’s asleep,I get out of the car. When my feet hit the white gravel, I wince and almost collapse, but catch myself on the car.
Ten jogs back toward me.
My head spins, but it’s my leg that’s killing me. It feels as though someone’s hacking at it with a knife.
“Maybe we should go to the ER. Have you checked out for a concussion,” Ten says.
“No, it’s my knee.” It feels like liquid is swishing in my stomach, but that’s probably my imagination. I doubt anything’s left inside.
“You’re sure?”
I nod slowly, careful not to aggravate the throbbing.
“Here. Take my arm.”
Even though that’s pretty much the last thing I want to do right now, I grip his arm for support. “My bag!” I exclaim.
“I’ve got it.”
I take it from him and hike it up my shoulder, then limp down the path, careful not to put too much weight on my bad leg. “How the heck am I going to dance tomorrow?”
“I think my grandpa has a spare walker.”
“Funny,” I say, even though I’m wondering if Ten really has a grandpa. I know so little about him. Besides the fact that he’s no longer a virgin. I wish I’d asked him to tell me what his real last name was instead.
“Or you could skip it, and we could hang out.”
I freeze. “You’d want to hang out with me after tonight?”
He shrugs as we climb the porch steps. Once we reach the front door, he releases me.
