Page 33 of People Like Us

“I want you honest, too,” I said, breathlessly.

My instincts told me to kiss him, but I remembered what he had said about earning it, and thought better of it.

August moved his hand back to the arm of the couch, and faced the TV.

I thought of Andy, and I tried to feel guilty, I really did. But when I searched for the feeling in my chest, it wasn’t there. I told myself I hadn’t said anything to August that I wouldn’t have said to Emily, if I had thought she’d let me.

And Lindsey and I had held hands plenty of times. August and I had barely touched two fingers together. The blanket was still bunched between us, under my legs, and on top of his. His arm lay just behind my head on the couch. We weren’t touching.

Not really.

I hadn’t done anything wrong.

Chapter Fourteen

There was a spot on the wall in August’s dining room in the shape of a cross that was sunbleached. Or rather, the area around it had been. The nail where the crucifix must’ve hung for a long time was still jutting from the wall among the family portraits, a bundle of dried flowers hung from it now, but I could still make out the bright shade of the wallpaper behind it.

August handed me the serving spoon as he held onto the large dish of pasta. “Take as much as you want,” he offered.

I put two spoonfuls on my plate. He didn’t watch to see how much I’d scooped out, and he didn’t ask me to take more. He just passed the bowl across the table to his sister.

Morgan was sixteen, a sophomore at our school, I learned. Her hair was the same sandy blonde as her mother’s, who sat on the other side of her, across from me.

“Lola, do you play any sports?” the woman asked.

“No ma’am.” I smiled, beginning to push the noodles around on my plate.

“She runs,” August said. “Just not on the track team.”

I tried to keep my expression neutral as she smiled at me. “I would’ve thought you were a cheerleader.”

Morgan snorted, “Yeah right, like a cheerleader would want to hang out with August.”

My jaw clenched instantly. I said in the sweetest tone I could manage, “I’m friends with all of the cheerleaders, and none of them deserve your brother.”

August’s cheeks turned that vibrant coral color I loved.

“He is quite the catch,” his mother agreed, and the color deepened.

Morgan made a gagging sound, her long blonde curls falling over her freckled heart shaped face with the violent heaving of her body.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” I asked her, unable to hold back my smile at her dramatics.

She eyed her brother, who had leaned in with a wide grin. When she didn’t answer right away August teased, “Yeah, Morgan, do you have a boyfriend?”

“No,” her tone was clipped of emotionship, but from the blush on her cheeks, I could tell she was hiding something. It made me wonder how protective August would get over his sister.

“What about you, Lola?” his mother asked, and I could tell she was trying to fish out if I was here as August’s friend or something more. I considered, briefly, lying to her. But Morgan answered before I could.

“She’s dating one of the Ken’s,” she said around a mouthful of pasta.

“What’s a Ken?” she asked, looking at her daughter with knitted brows.

August answered for her, “It’s what they called the guys who date the Barbies,” he used finger quotes around the name. “‘Cause they’re like the girl’s accessories.” I didn’t know if that last part was the true origin of the name for the guys, or if August had just added that for my sake.

His mother laughed. “And what exactly is a Barbie?”

Morgan pointed at me with her fork. “She is a Barbie.”