Part 19 (1/2)

Not Only That But she wanted me to come tonight, wanted me to see them together.

I played right into it too. Well, if she wants me in her face, I'm all the way there. I stomp right up to them, push between them.

”Excuse the h.e.l.l out of me!”

Directed at Lucas, who is totally blown away by my being here, and not just at the party, but right here, pressed up against him.

”Thanks for the heads-up.”

Directed over my shoulder at Skylar, who backs out of my way, grinning like Hannibal Lecter in Silence of the Lambs.

Lucas gives me the stupidest huh? look ever. ”What?” I spit.

”Didn't expect me? Well, FYI, your- your-friend, there, invited me.”

Now he looks confused. Friend- who-what-what do you want, Whitney? He glances back and forth between Skylar and me, unsure of what I'll do next. I'll make it easy, not that he deserves it. ”All I want is to talk to you. I think you owe me at least that much, don't you?”

Uh, yeah ... sure ... He dares turn toward Skylar, as if asking for her permission. He never treated me with such respect. Tears threaten.

No. Won't cry. I make my voice hard. ”I'm sure she doesn't mind, do you, Skylar?” She shakes her head, and I dismiss her. ”Good. Lucas, I'll meet you in your bedroom, okay?” He exits the kitchen without looking at either of us. I start to follow, change my mind.

First I Pour A hefty shot (okay, more like four) of Cuervo Gold. No need to bother with salt or limes, no worries about tequila burn going down.

It feels good. Great. May make me sick tomorrow, but it's stoking the courage I'm in desperate need of. Another stiff pour and I head for Lucas's bedroom, feeling tequila heat creep back up from my belly, all the way to my face.

My ears are ringing too. Hope I can remember the way to his bedroom.

Both times I was here before, that's exactly where we ended up. Nothing major happened then, but now I wish it would have. At least if it's over between us, and it's def looking that way. But why? I still don't get what happened. All I did was finally say okay. All I did was say, ”I love you.”

Lucas Is Sitting on the Bed Wearing a completely unexpected expression-pity. Can that be right?

What the h.e.l.l? A deep swallow of Cuervo sandpapers my throat.

I go over to Lucas, drop down on my knees, rest my hands on his legs, look up into his eyes, ”Lucas, will you please tell me what's going on?”

He doesn't answer right away, and for some stupid reason, that makes me think there's hope for us. But when he finally speaks, his voice is ice. When you first told me you were a virgin, I didn't believe you.

Not a lot of those around, you know?

But when I figured out you were telling the truth, I totally wanted to pop your cherry. You were my first virgin, and you'll probably be my last. Because ...

sorry, but virgin s.e.x really isn't very good.

I jerk my hands off his legs, wobble to my feet. ”F-f.u.c.k you! I c-c-can't believe tha'sh all I meant to you.” One more gulp and I repeat, ”f.u.c.k you!”

I Stumble Out the Door Go in search of Paige. I have to get the h.e.l.l out of here! My heart knocks in my chest. My face is on fire-with booze and embarra.s.sment.

How could I have believed he loved me? How could I have given my love to such an a.s.shole? ”Paige?” Did I just yell that? Everyone is staring. Maybe that's because tears cascade down my face, which is probably streaked black with mascara. ”Has anyone seen Paige?”

Someone points toward the living room, where my dear friend Paige has hooked up with some guy I sort of recognize from school. They're making out like ...

like they're really into each other.

She looks at me, clearly torn between wanting to help me and preferring to stay right where she is. ”Never mind,” I say.

”I'll find another ride home.” On my way to the front door, I pa.s.s Skylar, staring at me with-f.u.c.k that!-pity.

”Hope you're not a virgin. Oh, wait.

Forgot who I'm talking to.”

Now What?

I go outside, sit on the sidewalk, will myself not to get sick. Can't call Mom to pick me up, not here. Don't know if I've got enough cash for a taxi home.

I reach into my purse, find my wallet.

When I open it, a business card falls out. Perfect Poses Photography.

Wha ... ? At the bottom is a name.

Bryn Dawson. Bryn? Oh yeah, hot monkey, the guy from the mall.

I remember his face, the way his eyes looked at me. Don't suppose he ...

Nah, Friday night, he's out somewhere, with some hot female orangutan.

So why does my hand reach for my cell phone, and why do my fingers dial his number? One ring ...

This is stupid. And now he'll have my number. Two rings ... Hang up, stupid.

I can just imagine Paige, asking me what the hey I'm thinking. Three rings ...

See? He's so out with someone else.

And why would you think, even if he wasn't, that he'd even remember you?

Must Be Fate Because someone, I'm a.s.suming him, answers on the fourth ring. ”Bryn?

This is Whitney. You probably don't remember me, but we met at the mall and you gave me your card. ...”

Definitely must be fate, because he does remember me. I break down into an inebriated crying binge.

He'll hang up now for sure. But when I tell him, ”Sh-shorry to bug you, but something bad just happened and I really need a ride. ...”

He barely hesitates before he answers, No problem, Whitney. Always happy to help a damsel in distress. Give me twenty minutes. And directions.