I watched him go, and when I finally turned back to Shayla, my horror and humiliation must’ve been written all over my face.
“Oh, snaaap,” she whispered. “That was… ridic.”
“Do I look twelve?” I asked her, still stunned.
“You don’t look twelve.” She looked me over gratuitously. “You look eighteen, easy.”
“I mean… No one’s kicked me out yet…” I swallowed. There was a weird lump in my throat. “I’ve seen, like,manyguys checking me out.”
“They’re all checking you out,” Shay said. “You’re hot as shit. Xander Rush is a dick. Don’t even worry about it. He’s probably just afraid your brother’s gonna hear he was here, and you were here, and he didn’t tell him or something. Some weird guy shit. Forget him.”
I said nothing. I was in shock.
“Or maybe he’s high?” she suggested. “You know how that can be.”
“How…?” I said.
“I dunno. Sometimes when you’re high as fuck, it’s weird talking to people who aren’t. Paranoia. Don’t take it personally.”
“Okay…”
Nice theory. He didn’t look high, though.
Or particularly drunk.
He’d talked to me for like two seconds, and then took off.
I’d beenachingto see him for almost two years. That was twelve-point-five-percent of my life so far.
In other words… a long damn time.
“I’m seriously considering talking to some of those bikers…” Shay said, obviously trying to deflect. “Come with me?” She was eying the group of big dudes sitting on lawn chairs out in the yard, over by the trees.
“Huh? No.” I was trying to track Xander with my eyes without her noticing, as he made his way through the throng of people on the patio. Maroon 5’s “This Summer’s Gonna Hurt Like a Motherfucker” was playing now, way too fucking fittingly, and the crowd just seemed to be growing. Everyone kept bumping into me.
“Come on,” Shay said, nudging me. “It’ll be fun.”
“Huh?”
“The bikers. They lookfriendly.”
“Um. I don’t think so…”
“Maybe later? When you’ve had a few more…”
“Maybe.”Not likely.
“Let’s go say hi to Jesse Mayes, then.”
“Let’s not.”
“Fuck. Then let’s dance. You are not letting some dick ruin your mood.” She plucked the beer bottle from my hand and dragged me into the throng of bodies.
Dancing improved my mood maybe two-percent.
That two-percent plummeted to minus a thousand when I saw Xander kissing some girl on the other side of the patio.
And not just kissing.
