The Me I Meant to Be Page 5

  Instead I remained in Grayson’s beat-up car—​waiting for what, I didn’t know.

  Why couldn’t I get out of this car? It wasn’t like this guy was doing or saying anything so compelling I wanted to stay put. So he had sexy hands. Big deal.

  I’d never been one of those girls who needed a boyfriend. Like it was some key to fulfillment. I wasn’t that insecure. I didn’t jump from boyfriend to boyfriend. I wasn’t looking for some kind of affirmation because Zach had dumped me. If that were the case, I could have stayed back at the party and messed around with any number of guys happy to oblige a girl on a quest for a hookup.

  Maybe it was just nice talking to someone who didn’t know anything about me. Nothing about Zach and me. Nothing about my mom bailing. Who didn’t expect anything from me—​well, other than thirty an hour. I was just a girl he was tutoring. There was sanctuary in anonymity.

  And maybe I could see myself kissing him. I mean hypothetically. I’d be open to it. As an experiment. I’d never made out with anyone like him before. Someone who didn’t play sports or do parties. Someone who scored near perfect on the SAT.

  Of course, he probably wasn’t an indiscriminate kisser. I was assuming a lot to think he’d even be into kissing me. Our relationship was strictly professional. He probably kissed girls like him. If he made time for things like kissing between tutoring and getting scholarship offers.

  I rubbed my hands harder on my thighs.

  His voice rolled between us. “Are you nervous?”

  I looked at him sharply. “What? No. No, why would you ask that?”

  “Just a sense.”

  He sensed I was nervous? Great. Did he also sense that I was thinking about kissing? Kissing him? God. I hoped not.

  I looked at his hands again and my stomach dipped. Suddenly one of those hands lifted off the steering wheel.

  I held my breath, watching as that hand drifted across the space separating us and landed just beyond my shoulder to relax on the back of my seat.

  Breathe, breathe, breathe. He wasn’t making a move. He wasn’t like that. This wasn’t like that. I wasn’t like that. Maybe this was just some crazy post-breakup meltdown.

  Releasing a breath, I leaned my head against the headrest and glanced out the window at the dark, starless sky. “Do you think there’s any place left in the world where you can still see stars?”

  “Yeah. Just not here. We’re too close to the city.”

  “So where? Like the desert?”

  “Australian Outback,” he offered.

  “Scottish Highlands?” I returned.

  “The Atlantic Ocean.”

  I laughed. “So basically someplace where people don’t live?” A smile played about my lips. “That actually doesn’t sound too bad. A million stars and little to no people.”

  “Really? You don’t want to be around people?” His seat creaked as he shifted his weight. “You’re always surrounded by people.”

  How did he even know anything about me?

  “Maybe I just want to see stars,” I countered, my voice defensive even to my ears. I definitely didn’t feel like confiding why the idea of isolation sounded so tempting to me.

  Isolation wasn’t what I wanted. Not exactly. I just wanted things to be like they used to be. When my life was easier. When my parents were together, for starters. For now I’d gladly accept the normalcy of even a month ago. Meaning Zach. I wanted Zach back.

  Shaking off my introspection, I finally opened the noisy door. I couldn’t sit in his car all night being maudlin, after all. “See you Sunday?”

  “Sure.”

  He stayed in park as I walked up the drive, the headlights lighting my path. I knew I’d still feel him, though, his stare on my back, even without the glare of light.

  I opened the patio gate, one hand digging out my keys. His car rattled down the drive as I opened the back door and shut myself inside my shell of a house. That was what it felt like—​an empty shell. A hollowed husk. It wasn’t a home. A home is where a family lives.

  I prowled through the house with Rowdy at my heels, peeked inside the bare refrigerator and pantry. Nothing. No note on the counter, either. He used to do that. Leave notes even though he could just text me.

  I looked inside my father’s room. It didn’t even appear that he had come home from work today. He must have gone straight out. Obviously he was with Dana.

  I made my way to my room, pulling out my phone and punching the number for Gino’s Pizza. I had them listed in my favorites. They had my credit card on file, and the guy who answered the phone even guessed my order before I told him.

  “Medium chicken Alfredo pizza. Thin crust?”

  “Um, yeah.” The moment I hung up, I wished I’d told him no—​that he was wrong. Just to be contrary. He didn’t know me. Just because I’d ordered the same thing three times in the last week didn’t mean I was predictable.

  It didn’t mean my life had become this.

  GIRL CODE #7:

  If a guy who has a girlfriend asks you for nudes, tell her. Solidarity and all that.

  Willa

  ZACH was kissing me.

  I’d been kissed before. I’d had a boyfriend part of my freshman year. Until I found out Evan had asked another girl for nudes.

  Evan was always asking me for nudes. There wasn’t a text conversation where he didn’t ease it into the thread. I figured that was the norm since he was my boyfriend. What did I know? He was the first guy I dated.

  I told him no. Constantly. Consistently. I told myself to feel flattered and not annoyed. And yet it was annoying that he couldn’t carry on a conversation without wanting to know what I was wearing. It wasn’t okay, though. I knew that now. Not when he asked me for nudes and not when he asked Olivia Walters, a girl in my health class. It was hard not to notice her. She was endowed in ways I wasn’t back then and she had these overly penciled-in eyebrows.

  She walked up to my desk before class started and told me very matter-of-factly that my boyfriend had texted asking her for nudes. I thanked her. Then I broke up with him. He moved to Alabama last year, so at least I didn’t have to see him around school anymore.

  Jerk or not, Evan hadn’t been a bad kisser. I knew a good kiss, and he’d complimented my kissing skills often enough. I felt reassured that I was competent, at any rate.

  But even so I was not prepared.

  There was good and there was this.

  It was no-holds-barred. Soft and firm. Zach’s lips slanted over mine, and I gasped when his tongue touched my tongue. Both his hands were in my hair, anchoring me to him. I lifted my own hands, ready to push him away. Because really. That was what I should do. This was terrible. So wrong.

  He wasn’t kissing me. He was kissing Ava.

  It was a horrifying thought. But also . . . freeing.

  Instead of pushing him away, my hands landed on his chest. Instead of stopping him and ending the kiss, I kept him close, my palms flat on his broad chest, feeling, absorbing . . . committing all this to memory. His heart thudded beneath my fingers, strong and fast. For me.

  No, not for me, a voice whispered through my melting brain. For Ava.

  Angry, I kissed him harder, scraping my teeth against his bottom lip, wanting to punish him for kissing me while thinking I was someone else. For kissing me at all . . . for making me like it so much. It was better than any fantasy I’d ever dreamed up over the years, and that made me angriest of all.

  He pulled back at my aggressiveness, and I waited, wondering what he would do next. I felt his stare, searching the dark, and there was only relief that he couldn’t see me.

  Our breath crashed between us like surf pounding on sand, as hard and rhythmic as the blood roaring in my ears.

  His fingers flexed in my hair, fisting the strands tighter. My pulse hiccupped against my throat, sending the skin into mad flutters. Was this even real? Maybe I was dreaming. If I was dreaming, I could do anything I wanted.

  My hands curled into his sh
irt, bunching the fabric. I willed my racing heart to steady, willed my voice to speak and say the words to make this somehow all right.

  He let out a breath that seemed to edge into speech, but then nothing.

  I opened my mouth, but before I could say anything, he was kissing me again, hands still tight in my hair, hauling my body against him until there wasn’t a thread of air between us.

  I kissed him back, pitching myself into him, sending us toppling into a wall. A soft grunt escaped him at the force, but he didn’t let me go. He clung to me, hands anchoring my head as he slid slightly down the wall. It put us at similar height, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. If this was what others felt, no wonder they were skipping study hall to make out in the upper level of the theater. I would have to be less judgmental about them. Now that I understood. Now that my entire body burned.

  I felt him everywhere, and it was just a kiss.

  One of his hands released my hair and slid around to hold my face. Something cracked loose inside me at the touch. Even though our mouths were fused in the most delicious kiss I’d ever had in my life, that single hand holding my face—​so tender, so intimate—​shattered me.

  Dimly, the sounds of shouts outside the closet penetrated. He broke the kiss with a curse that made my stomach do wild somersaults. Not that profanity turned me on or anything, but it was proof that he desired me. Zach Tucker wanted me.

  Even if he didn’t realize it.

  I brushed my fingers over my lips. They felt tingly and numb at the same time.

  Light flooded the closet and I froze as the bright yellow cut through the dark and slanted over me. That wasn’t supposed to happen. I mean . . . I guess it was inevitable. How was I going to leave this closet and still hide my identity from him? But I hadn’t thought that far ahead. What everyone said was true. Hormones robbed you of all judgment.

  My heart abandoned my chest and climbed up into my throat.

  He could see me now. His gaze pinned me to the spot. OhGodohGodohGod.

  I stared back. Didn’t move.

  And this was it. When everything broke between us. I waited for all the pieces to fall.

  He stared with no expression. It was impossible to read him. Were those flaring nostrils because he was angry? Betrayed? Or something else?

  I realized my hands were still locked around his neck, my body pressed to his. I yanked my arms away. Heat climbed my face as I flattened my palms against the outside of my thighs.

  I turned for the door, not about to stick around for him to figure out the right words to fling at me. I’d stolen that kiss from him. That pretty much made me a horrible person—​a horrible friend to both him and Flor.

  At the door, I paused when I realized I was about to step out into the party and a houseful of eyes. Anyone could take one look at me and guess what had happened. I pressed my fingers to my lips. They felt different. I felt different. Would I look it too?

  I’d been in here too long with him. How would I explain this? After talking Ava out of coming in here to make out with Zach, I went ahead and did that very thing. Oh. God. I was the worst hypocrite. Of course, the longer I lingered in the closet, the worst the talk would be.

  Best to just get it over with. Rip off the Band-Aid.

  Taking a deep breath, I stepped out. Except when I did, no one was looking at me at all. It was chaos. There was no other description for it. People were fleeing the room. Cups were flying, hitting the floor like artillery shells.

  Zach followed behind me. We watched as everyone shoved and pushed to escape the room.

  I shot him a wary glance.

  Shrugging, he flew up the stadium steps and grabbed a guy’s arm. “Hey, what’s going on?”

  “Cops!” the guy cried breathlessly, and shook off Zach so that he could disappear with the tide of bodies.

  “Oh God,” I breathed, closing my eyes in a pained blink.

  My mother was going to kill me. This was the last thing she needed on her plate. I could already hear the lecture.

  “C’mon!” Zach grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the room with him. The house was bedlam. It was like a scene out of Titanic. Kids were running everywhere, trampling each other as they tossed cups of beer. A girl screamed as she toppled down the stairs. I didn’t know if she’d been shoved amid the panic or had merely lost her balance, but I wasn’t looking forward to descending the steps.

  A loud voice, clearly a cop’s, blared through a bullhorn. “Exit the house and step onto the lawn!”

  “My mom is going to kill me,” I muttered.

  Dad was home tonight, and the two of them were actually out on a rare date. If they got a call from the cops about me, she was going to lose it. Life as I knew it would be over.

  “C’mon. This way.” Zach didn’t follow the rest of the pack toward the stairs. Instead he dragged me down the hall and busted into a bedroom—​Sharla’s bedroom, from the looks of it. Several homecoming mums decorated one wall. Another wall was riddled with cheer pictures. Her giant megaphone sat on her dresser, MADISON TIGERS and her name emblazoned on the side of it.

  “Zach! What are you doing?” I looked around wildly. Did he plan on hiding us? That didn’t seem like a good idea.

  He let go of my hand and rushed to the window, sliding it open. I watched in alarm as he swung one leg over the windowsill.

  I pointed in his direction. “Why do I get the feeling you’ve climbed out of this window before?”

  “Freshman year.” He held out a hand, motioning for me to come with him.

  “Freshman year? You were climbing in and out of girls’ bedrooms when you were a freshman?” I shook my head. “Who even are you?” How was this guy one of my best friends? Or he used to be. The verdict still wasn’t in on where we stood.

  He let out an exasperated breath. “Not now, Willa. C’mon. I’d rather not get an MIP tonight.”

  Yeah. I didn’t have the money to pay the fine for a Minor in Possession charge either.

  I hurried forward. “You sure we shouldn’t just go downstairs? We aren’t drinking. We can take one of those tests to prove it.”

  “You don’t need to be drinking to get an MIP. You can be at a party with beer and still get one. And why don’t you know that?”

  I shrugged, not bothering to remind him that I wasn’t the kind of girl who had to worry about those things. I hardly ever went to parties. “But they can’t honestly ticket every—”

  My words were cut off with a yelp as he took my hand and tugged me out the window after him onto the roof. I followed him down the slight incline awkwardly, clearly lacking his athleticism. He walked the sloping roof with ease. We reached the edge and he dropped to a sitting position.

  I peered over the side and gulped at the sight of green lawn much too far below for my comfort.

  Zach turned on his stomach and lowered himself down until he hung off the edge by his fingers. Then he let go and dropped soundlessly onto his feet. He looked up at me and held out his arms for me. “Your turn.”

  I blinked. He had to be kidding.

  I glanced behind me. Maybe I should go back inside and take whatever fate waited for me with the cops. Looking down at him, I shook my head. “Hate to break it to you, but I’m not Wonder Woman.”

  That should have come as no surprise. Zach knew me. I was no athlete. I completed the one year of required PE my freshman year, squeaking by with a B. That pretty much said it all. For everyone else with a pulse, PE was a guaranteed A. You showed up. Did what you were told. Easy A. Not me.

  He waved his fingers, the gesture impatient. “Don’t be scared. C’mon.”

  I bristled. “I’m not scared.” I was so scared.

  “Prove it,” he countered.

  After lowering to my knees, I copied his move and shimmied myself down until I was dangling off the roof by my fingers, trying not to imagine him staring at my butt. This was Zach. Fifteen minutes ago I wouldn’t have cared, because I was confident he didn’t care. No way woul
d he have even looked at my butt.

  But now that we had kissed, I didn’t know anything. Not about him. Not about me.

  My world had flown from its axis, and I couldn’t trust anything anymore.

  I didn’t know what he was thinking.

  Who was I kidding? He was thinking how I had tricked him into kissing me.

  “Let go! I’ll catch you.”

  Grunting, I ignored my skepticism. Zach was a jock who never read the books he was assigned. He was a player and someone who spent way too much time on his hair, but I’d never known him to lie.

  Holding my breath, I let go.

  His arms came around me, catching me and breaking my fall. We toppled together on the ground, my body sprawled over him. Exhaling, I swiped the hair from my eyes and looked down at him under me.

  We held still for a moment, frozen, staring into each other’s eyes, exerted breath mingling. So close our noses could almost touch. For a moment something was there. That same crackling heat I’d felt in the closet. It must be my melting brain.

  “Hey!” A distant voice called out, deep and authoritative. I wasn’t even sure if the voice was shouting at us, but it jarred us out of our stare-off. We bolted apart and jumped to our feet.

  Zach grabbed my hand again and then we were running across Sharla’s back lawn. We vaulted over a white rail fence into the neighbors’ yard—​probably the very people who’d called the police. We cut through a few more lawns before breaking out onto a street. A stitch in my side stabbed at me and I clutched my ribs.

  I couldn’t run anymore. I pulled on his hand. “I gotta walk.”

  He slowed and looked down the street behind us, dragging a hand through his perfect dark hair and sending the strands everywhere. “I think we’re okay. Let’s keep walking, though.”

  Nodding, I tugged my hand free from his grip. It was weird to hold hands with him now that we weren’t running for our lives. We’d never done that. But then we had never done a lot of things before tonight.

  I fixed my gaze straight ahead. Our houses weren’t too far away now. We had one major thoroughfare to cross once we exited Sharla’s subdivision and then we’d enter our neighborhood. Maybe twenty minutes.