The Me I Meant to Be Page 15

  Beau still stood close. “I don’t mind, Willa.”

  “Are you deaf, Sanders? She said no.”

  Beau swung away from me then. The two guys squared off so quickly I would have missed it if I blinked. One moment they weren’t even facing each other. Then suddenly they were like two barnyard roosters puffed up and bumping chests.

  “I don’t think she wants your interference, Tucker.”

  Of course. They’d played a game against each other tonight. They were rivals on the field and, I suspected, off.

  Did this even have anything to do with me, or was it just an extension of some stupid competition these guys had had since Little League?

  “She wants me to give her a ride,” Zach said with such certainty I wanted to slap his face. I’d said I’d get a ride with Farah. What was wrong with him? I glared at his profile. I’d never seen him like this. I didn’t even know him right now.

  They were nose to nose, as close as I had been to Beau a moment ago, and neither one seemed to mind that they were standing close enough to kiss.

  “What’s going on here, Tucker? You’re not her boyfriend,” Beau said in a voice like dark silk. “So why you cock-blocking me, man?”

  I gasped. Did he really just say that?

  Zach shoved him hard in the chest.

  Beau collided with the dock railing, and for a moment I thought he might flip over and go into the lake. He caught himself, flinging back from the railing and launching himself at Zach in a move that was right out of the Olympics.

  I snapped into action and wedged myself between the two of them. “Stop! Stop it!”

  For the first time in my life I felt small and delicate sandwiched between two testosterone-riddled jocks. Their chests heaved on each side of me like living, breathing mountains. “Both of you, knock it off!”

  “Willa.” Zach dropped my name with heavy emphasis, putting everything that there ever was between us into those two syllables—​all the years we’d known each other, all the times he’d given me rides to school, all the times I’d helped him with his homework. “Let’s go.”

  “Okay, okay.” At this point I only wanted to defuse the situation. End the crazy. When we were alone he’d feel my wrath. I’d let him know exactly how this was not okay.

  I faced Beau. “Sorry, I—”

  “I thought he wasn’t your boyfriend,” he cut in, his eyes accusing.

  “He’s not,” I insisted.

  “Then this is messed up.” He waved a finger between me and Zach, and I felt kind of small inside. Like I was the height of dysfunction. And maybe I was, because Beau was right. This whole scenario was messed up.

  Shaking his head, Beau’s expression turned to disgust as he looked me up and down. “Cock-tease,” he muttered.

  The word hit me like a slap.

  No one had ever said anything that ugly to me. I’d always played it safe, hung back, and blended with the wallpaper (well, discounting the time I made out with my best friend’s ex-boyfriend).

  Ugly things did not get hurled at invisible girls.

  So maybe I wasn’t as invisible as I thought. But I wanted to be. Right then, especially.

  I wanted to go back to being invisible, where life wasn’t nearly so scary and definitely not this complicated.

  I felt Zach stiffen behind me and knew he was one second from reacting to the fact that this guy had just insulted me.

  I beat him to it. My palm lashed out and connected with Beau’s cheek—​the nice guy from ten minutes ago. Guess I was a bad judge of character after all.

  The sound of my slap cracked on the air. Everything fell silent. The air went still. Even the insects dancing around the tiki lights seemed to quiet and stop buzzing.

  The water seemed to barely move, stretching like glass into the night. The party sounded even more distant. Like it was happening several docks down and not just seventy yards away.

  “Just because I walked out here with you . . . and kissed you . . . doesn’t make me a cock-tease. That’s not the way it works, asshole. The sooner you figure that out, the better your odds that you won’t end up in prison.”

  I stormed off the dock then, stumbling through the dark toward the house, pretty much ready to quit the male species for good right then—​and these boots. They had to come off.

  To my left a girl was puking in the bushes, two girls on either side of her patting her back. A few feet away, buried in a ivy-riddled fence, another couple made out, indifferent to the less-than-romantic vomiting in the background.

  Zach called my name, but I ignored him and fast-tracked it for the house.

  The house loomed in front of me, blazing with light and music and voices. Staring at it, I stopped, dreading going back in there suddenly. My earlier optimism fled. Just like that, this had gone from a night of fun to a night of how-soon-could-I-get-home.

  The deck was more crowded too. Probably because the house had reached max capacity. I crossed my arms and hugged myself, chafing my skin against the chilly night.

  “Willa.” Zach jogged up beside me. “You okay?”

  “Yes,” I snapped.

  No, I wasn’t okay. I wanted to rip into him for daring to interrupt me with Beau. But if he hadn’t, I’d probably still be kissing that jerk. So he did kind of save me—​even if it was only from myself. And I hated that. I didn’t want him or anyone to save me. I was supposed to be capable of doing that myself.

  “Nice slap.” He scanned my face closely, assessing. What was he looking for? Did he think I’d run off to cry?

  I shrugged. “Thanks.”

  “Remind me never to piss you off.”

  “What makes you think you haven’t?”

  “Well, you haven’t slapped me.”

  “The night isn’t over.”

  His smile slipped, and he looked uncertain as he gazed at me.

  I peered ahead at the house. From the sounds of it the party was just getting started. I really didn’t want to have to wade back in there to beg Farah to take me home.

  “Fine.” Sighing, I looked at Zach. “Drive me home.”

  Without waiting for him, I turned and started around the house to the front, where too many vehicles to count filled the front lawn and spilled out onto the street. I hoped Kennedy’s parents weren’t fond of their grass, because there wasn’t going to be left much of it.

  Once on the road, I spotted his Jeep several yards down. I tried to walk fast, but my boots weren’t a fan of the loose gravel. I probably looked like a staggering drunk.

  He caught up with me easily. “Now you want me to take you home?”

  “You offered.” I threw him a look. “Actually, more like demanded.” I slipped my phone from my pocket and sent a text to the girls that I was getting a ride home with Zach.

  Sliding my phone back in my pocket, I looked up at him. “Shouldn’t you text your girlfriend?”

  “She’s not my girlfriend.”

  I made a sound in my throat. “Does Ashlyn know that?”

  “Yeah. Of course.”

  We reached his Jeep and climbed in. He’d barely started it before he was asking me, “What were you thinking, going off with Beau Sanders? Do you know that guy’s rep?”

  I turned on him quicker than a springing snake. “Is it anything like yours?”

  His fingers opened and flexed on the steering wheel. “Actually, no. It’s worse.”

  “And don’t do that.” I stabbed a finger at him as if he hadn’t said anything at all. “Don’t jump all over me because I went off with a guy and kissed him. What are you? Jealous or something?”

  “Course not,” he denied, his voice thick and defensive, a tinge on the outrage.

  Of course he wasn’t jealous. I’d declined to see where things could go between us, and he’d jumped on the Ashlyn train quicker than a jackrabbit. He wasn’t pining away for me. He didn’t care.

  Zach Tucker was a player. I guess he couldn’t be blamed. But I was still mad at him. For what had happe
ned on the dock with Beau. Maybe for Ashlyn, too, even though I wasn’t supposed to be.

  “Good. Because I’ve watched you do that for years. You fool around whenever the whim strikes you with whatever girl is convenient, so don’t you dare get judgy on me.”

  “Willa,” he cut in, his voice placating, “I never said—”

  “Oh, and for the record, I should be able to kiss who I want. And that doesn’t obligate me to sleep with him! The phrase cock-tease should be obliterated from the English language. It puts blame on the girl because she doesn’t go all the way with a guy.”

  “I didn’t call you that.”

  “No, but you’re looking at me like I did something wrong, which kind of implies that you agree with him.”

  “I don’t agree with him. And I’m sorry that I jumped on your case.” He blew out a heavy breath. “I can’t help that I was worried about you. I’m sorry that I acted like . . .” His voice faded as he stared straight ahead through the windshield.

  “Like a jackass?” I quickly offered.

  “Yeah.” He nodded. “Sure.” He started the engine and pulled out onto the road.

  I fell silent beside him, regretting thinking I had to come to this party and flirt and kiss someone else to feel better.

  Better right now would be my bed. Wearing my pajamas. With a book or a Walking Dead marathon. Even better than better would be if Flor were with me and we had a pint of cookie dough ice cream between us. It felt like we hadn’t done that in ages.

  His deep voice rose in the confined space. “You going to give me the silent treatment the whole way home?”

  I looked at him coolly. “I’m not trying to.”

  “What are you thinking about?”

  “Ice cream,” I replied.

  “Ice cream?”

  “Mm-hmm.” I nodded and turned to look out at the dark night again. The hills were vague purple shapes against the black-ness.

  “A minute ago you were ready to see me lynched. Now you’re dreaming of ice cream?”

  I shrugged. “Ice cream is always a priority.”

  “Maybe we could stop through a drive-thru. Probably won’t miss curfew if we’re really quick.”

  The offer made me soften slightly. Until I remembered that I was mad at him and not ready to forget about that. “No thanks. I just want to get home.”

  We drove in silence the rest of the way, and when he pulled up in the driveway, there were still ten minutes to spare until curfew. I unbuckled my seat belt and let it slide home with a clatter.

  “Well. Thanks for the ride,” I said, just to have something to say. “I know you probably wanted to stay.” His parents had relaxed on his curfew this year. He’d told me it was because he was eighteen now. I’d told him it was because he was an only child and they let him get away with murder. Or it could just be because he was Zach Tucker. Even if he was their son, that made him special. The shining prince of the Tucker household.

  “I didn’t even want to be there.”

  With one hand on the door handle, I turned back to look at him. “After your big game? How could you miss it? Isn’t that punishable by death or something among your team?”

  He chuckled. “That’s why I went. To make them happy. It wasn’t what I wanted.”

  I stared at him, struggling to accept what he was saying. The entire time I’d known him, everything always seemed to go his way. “What do you know about not getting what you want?”

  “Not everything goes my way. There are things I don’t get.”

  His gaze seemed to sharpen on me right then. I adjusted my fingers around the door handle. It wasn’t real. The way he was looking at me, his words strongly hinting at something more.

  Something impossible.

  “It looked like you going tonight made Ashlyn happy, too.” This bitter, caustic bite of poison welled up inside me and I had to spit it out.

  He shut off the engine, slid the keys out of the ignition, and turned to face me, resting one arm along the top of the steering wheel.

  I couldn’t stop. The poison kept coming out of me. “Bet she wasn’t too happy when you left early,” I added.

  “I’m not responsible for how Ashlyn feels.”

  I made a sound in the back of my throat that was part laughter, part choking.

  Those gray eyes deepened to black in the dimness of the Jeep. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, his voice whisper soft.

  “Are you responsible for how any girl feels? Ever?”

  His jaw clenched, and he knew that Flor was part of this conversation now. I’d brought her into it. As always. She was never far.

  “Should I be responsible for the feelings of every girl that flirts with me?”

  I thought about that and knew it was wrong. It wasn’t fair of me to put that burden on him. Sometimes it felt like the whole world had a crush on him.

  His eyes gleamed in the dark. “What do you want from me, Willa?”

  “Me?” I flattened a hand against my chest. My heart was racing under my palm, beating like a drum in my too-tight chest. “I don’t want anything from you.” I thought I’d made that abundantly clear. I couldn’t want anything from him.

  I wouldn’t.

  I opened the Jeep door and stepped out into the night. “Thanks for the ride.” I slammed the door shut and looked at him for a moment through the glass.

  He stared back at me. It felt like a vast sea swelled between us. Endless and impossible to cross. I turned, walked into the house, and didn’t look back.

  GIRL CODE #20:

  When you say something, you better be sure you mean it.

  Flor

  THE steady beeping of the garbage truck woke me at the crack of dawn—​well before my alarm went off. I’d set it for ten because I had a soccer game at noon. My room was still dark, and I didn’t move for a moment, just held still in my bed listening to the truck beeping outside. Finally I lifted my head off my pillow and twisted, fumbling for my lamp with a groan.

  I felt hung over and I hadn’t even drunk last night. I needed one good day when I could sleep in. Clearly I should have left the party when Willa left instead of an hour later. I didn’t fall into bed until a little after one.

  Of course, that would have meant getting a ride home with Zach. I winced at that idea. That would have been awkward.

  With another groan, I pushed up from the comfort of my bed and staggered bleary-eyed across the room to pull back my window curtains. Outside in the muted light of dawn a moving truck was parked alongside the curb. So it wasn’t a garbage truck. I smirked. At least not technically.

  Three men hopped out of the vehicle. Dana’s Mini Cooper zipped around the truck and parked in front of it as the movers slid open the back door of the truck and started carrying items into my house.

  This was really happening.

  I sighed. “And so it begins.”

  Knowing it was pointless to try to go back to sleep for another hour, I shut off my alarm and jumped into the shower. I stood under the warm spray, letting it wake me. I deliberately tried not to think about Dana moving her things into the house right now. It would only drive me crazy.

  Instead my mind drifted to last night and the conversation I’d forced on Zach. I felt a fresh sense of detachment. Numbness. I guess that was okay. Maybe I really was moving on. There was no hurt or pain. Maybe there really never had been. I felt around inside myself, probing carefully. Maybe it had only been disappointment I’d felt. Another loss. Another rejection. More of the same I’d been getting lately. I hadn’t let myself examine if it was really him, really Zach, that I wanted.

  Stepping out of the shower, I grabbed a towel and dried off, then put on my soccer shorts and jersey for the game today. I squeeze-dried my hair, getting out as much moisture as I could before pulling it into a tight ponytail and braiding.

  Since I had time to kill, I could stop off for breakfast. I really didn’t want to linger at home anyway with Dana and her movers tromping thr
ough the house.

  I gathered up my gear—​all except my cleats, which I kept outside—​and headed downstairs.

  Dana was in the living room, wearing a striped wraparound blouse that exposed her midriff. The movers gawked at her as she directed them, snapping her fingers and motioning where they should put one floral-print monstrosity of a love seat.

  Dad watched from several feet away, a stupid grin on his face . . . like he’d just woken up to Christmas morning.

  And I guessed that was why they called love blind. It besotted you and rendered you stupid so that you ignored all the other things in your life once deemed important.

  I could feel my mood souring, and it was way too early for that. I needed my spirits high and my head in the game. Staring at my father beside Dana, one of his arms wrapped around her tiny waist as she directed a sofa chair into the suddenly crowded living room, I felt the almost violent impulse to say something. I didn’t know what, but it would be something regrettable. Something mean. Something like how her furniture was butt ugly and clashed with our brown leather couches.

  Hot emotion swept through me, coating my mouth in a bitter wash.

  I bit the inside of my cheek and gave myself an internal shake. I couldn’t give Dana so much power over me. She would not spoil my day before it even got started. I took out my water jug from a cabinet and added ice to it, taking a deep breath and attempting to control my emotions. Endorphins. That’s what I needed. I’d get on that soccer field and feel better.

  Flipping the faucet lever, I looked up. My eyes collided with Dana’s. Her stare fixed on me from across the living room as I filled my jug with water at the sink.

  “Good morning, Flor,” she greeted me.

  “Morning,” I returned.

  Dad looked back and forth between us, his expression hopeful and oblivious to the tension. “Flor,” he said cheerfully. “Game today?” he asked.

  I glanced down at myself in my jersey. I was decked out in full game-day regalia. “Yeah.” I nodded, thinking how he used to know my schedule better than I did. Now he rarely showed for a game.