Forget You(19)
Author: Jennifer Echols

It crossed my mind that he was lying about something. I knew he lied. He’d lied to every single girl he’d had sex with over the summer. But I was the one he told about the lies. I wasn’t the one he lied to. Of course, that meant I wouldn’t know what he acted like to the girl when he was lying to her. He might very well be lying now.

No, I was just paranoid about everything today. Because of our history, Brandon’s relationship with me was different. We were good friends, and we could trust each other. I saw there was more to him than beachy-clean good looks and a buff body. I told him about swerving to miss the deer and hitting Mike and Doug.

While I talked, he continued to stare toward Stephanie’s house. I thought he wasn’t paying attention to me. He verified this by asking, "So, you’re not mad about last night?"

He didn’t seem very concerned about my wreck. He hadn’t lifted my bangs to peer at my bruise. But he must have reasoned I couldn’t be too bad off if I was here, talking to him. Right?

Then I realized he was unwittingly about to tell me what happened last night. I asked carefully, "Mad? Should I be?"

"Definitely not." He frowned down at me, blue eyes looking straight into my eyes. "I told you not to come to the party."

"Y did," I agreed. That much I remembered.

"I missed you, though."

I heaved a satisfied sigh. He hadn’t told me what I’d been up to last night. But he had told me what I hadn’t been up to. If he’d missed me, we hadn’t spent a lot of time together. Probably we’d had a big argument about me crashing his man-party.

"Y could make it up to me," I said, stepping closer to him again. My flip-flop was inside his big bare foot, my thigh inside his thigh. My neck hurt,

ou standing this close to him and looking up–which reminded me of doing the same thing last night at the football game with Doug.

WRONG ANSWER. "I want to see you," I said quickly. By see you I meant get down and dirty with you in the back of the Buick. Or whatever car was handy. He stared blankly at me, so I wasn’t sure he got it. I clarified, "I want an encore of Monday night. But I’m still feeling a little dizzy from the wreck. I don’t think I should drive tonight. Could you borrow a car and come see me after the swim team gets back from the meet? We could go to the beach park again. Shirt optional." I giggled as I slid my fingers across his chest. I noticed the fingernail polish was smeared on my pinkie.

"Mmmmm," he said. At first this seemed like a purr of approval at my touch. But no, it was a rejection of the encore idea. "My parents are going out in their car." And not a single one of my hundred friends on the football team can lend me his wheels. Say it!

"How about tomorrow?" I persisted. "I’m sure I’ll feel better by then, and I can drive us in my dad’s Benz."

He looked toward his house. "Tomorrow’s a school night. I have to study. My parents have been on my shit about my grades. I already flunked an algebra test."

It seemed to me that he could go out with me tomorrow night if he studied now rather than sudsing a broken Buick. But Lord knew parents were weird. I didn’t want Brandon’s parents to think I was pushy because I’d forced the issue. "Then maybe you could come to my swim meet on Wednesday at six?"

"Mmmmm," he said.

"School night?" I asked. It came out bitter and I could have kicked myself.

"School night," he agreed.

"Could you catch up on your studying before then, since you have so much time to plan for it?"

"Mmmmm," he said.

At this point I think I was about to tell him to stuff it. But that would be crazy. Brandon was my friend. He had legitimate issues with seeing me. He was not screwing me over. He would not do that to me.

"Y eah, maybe I could make that," he finally grumbled. "I know it’s important to you."

"And maybe I could take you out after? I’ll let you drive the Benz." I was under strict orders from my dad not to let anyone drive the Benz. Too bad. He should have installed an onboard ClydeCam. This was important.

"I’ll try." Brandon put his heavy arm around me. His skin was warm from the sun. He had put his arm around me a lot during the summer, inducing friendly tingles. Though I didn’t want to be his girlfriend back then, he was hotness incarnate, and I loved it when he touched me. Now that I was his girlfriend, I should have felt positively giddy with his arm around me, a little taste of the next time we went parking.

Instead, I felt the slightest bit nauseated, like on Monday night. This was because our relationship was so new, and sex was so new to me. I would work on this.

Never mind. He gripped my hand in his big hand and popped my knuckles one by one. When he’d tried to do this during the summer, I’d squealed and jerked my hand away. Now I should have let him do it because feeling so vulnerable, I welcomed any show of affection from him. But with the dizziness and the headache, I simply couldn’t stand him popping my knuckles. I pulled away and was surprised at how easily my hand slipped out of his. 6 "Tardy!" Ian hollered as I stepped through the sliding door onto the swim team van. Other boys chuckled and echoed, "Tardy!"

"I have a minute to spare." I checked my watch to verify this, then laughed like I didn’t care. Part of my job as team captain was surveying and closing up the women’s locker room before we left. Keke had offered to take over for me today, but I didn’t want Coach or the team to think I was down for the count, which would be bad for morale. I made sure the faucets in the locker room were turned off and the heavy doors were locked. Naturally I was the last one out.

But after the whole hullabaloo with the team complaining that Doug was tardy, and me telling Coach yesterday, and Doug dissing me at the game last night, and me turning down Doug for a date this morning, the likes of which you did not see around here every day, I did not need a tardy joke erupting every time I made an appearance, like those pop-up prompts suggesting keyboard shortcuts whenever I sent an email. Zoey’s here = tardy joke. The tardy joke would remind Doug ten times a day that he was mad at me. Of course, I didn’t expect him to be on the van now but he’d show up at school in a

, few days to a chorus of tardy jokes. I shivered at the very thought of those cold green eyes burning a hole through me.

I shrugged it off and rolled the van door shut behind me. I just wanted to blend in, sink into a seat on the van, and play my electronic sudoku for the forty- minute drive to Panama City. I scanned the van for an empty place. Usually there was just enough room for all of us. I got along with everyone, so being the last one on the bus wouldn’t be a problem unless I was stuck next to Stephanie Wetzel–whom I had no real reason to dislike, I reminded myself. She lived across the street from Brandon. It made perfect sense for her to give him rides.