My Sweetest Escape (My Favorite Mistake #2)(30)
Author: Chelsea M. Cameron

“Here you are,” he said.

“Here I am.”

It was one of those moments that, if this were a movie, he would have leaned over and given me a good-night kiss. But because it wasn’t a movie, we just sat there and I tried to think of something that I could say that would give me a graceful exit.

“Thanks for the ride.” Yeah, that wasn’t it.

“Anytime. Anytime you need anything, just…let me know.” That would be kind of hard to do, since I didn’t have his number. But yeah, I wasn’t going to ask him for it.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” It was times like these when I wish I had a script.

“I’m not into you like that, Red. If that’s what you’re worried about.” Well, the script didn’t matter if he went off book.

“I wasn’t.”

“Okay. Because I know I joke around, but it’s not serious.” He seemed to be trying really hard to be convincing.

“Right.”

“Okay, then. I guess I’ll…see you around.” There seemed to be nothing else to do but get out of the car, so I did and started walking toward the house. I heard the creak of the window crank and then his voice.

“Jos?” The sound of my actual name made me turn around by reflex.

“I…” I’d never seen him at a loss for words, but he seemed to be nothing but tongue-tied tonight. He whispered something that I didn’t hear.

“What?”

He looked through the windshield and not at me. “Sorry, nothing.”

“Well…I’m going to go in the house now.”

“You should do that. It’s too cold to be standing outside.”

“Right. Here I go.” I started walking backward and he laughed.

“Don’t trip, Red.”

I kept going backward until I got to the porch and he watched me the whole time. It wasn’t until I had opened the door, waved and closed it again that I heard his car drive away.

What a freak that boy was.

Chapter 12

Renee was slumped over at the dining table the next morning when I came up for breakfast. I’d heard Paul talking softly to her in their room the night before when I went to check on her and figured he had it under control. The rest of the crew crashed in quite late. For people who were academically inclined, drinking on a Sunday night didn’t seem to be the wisest choice.

“How you doing, big sister?” I said, going to grab a mug so I could make some tea. The residents of Yellowfield House were big on breakfast, but no one had made any yet, so I grabbed some waffles from the freezer.

“Shut. Up.”

“Hey, you’re the one who’s supposed to set a good example. I didn’t force you to drink.”

“Please, just…later.” She couldn’t even form a complete sentence.

I waited for my waffles to cook as the other inhabitants of the house stumbled downstairs and went for the coffeepot. If I were a complete bitch, I could have gotten up early and made a crap ton of noise. The idea had been tempting, but I hadn’t acted on it.

“Alcohol bad,” Renee said as Paul came in the front door holding bags of greasy fast food.

“Hangover cure,” he said, holding them up.

“I would cheer, but I don’t want to,” Renee said as Darah leaned against Mase. Taylor raised her fist hesitantly.

“That’s the best I can do,” she said as Paul distributed the bags and everyone dug in, plates be damned.

“I got you an egg and cheese, if you want it,” Paul said, holding a bag out to me.

“I’m set with waffles, but thanks.” He shrugged and handed the sandwich over to Mase, who inhaled it in three bites. Breakfast was a quiet affair and over because everyone was late for whatever they were supposed to be doing. I’d thought some of them would skip, but they all got their butts out the door eventually.

“So how hungover is everyone in your house right now?” Hannah said when I sat next to her for Pam’s class. We had an unspoken agreement that she would always have Skittles, but I would have to supply my own M&M’s, so I made sure to stop and grab some from the machine in the Union, enough to last me the week.

“It’s pretty epic. I was feeling bitter about it last night, but now I’m grateful I stayed sober.”

“Well, there is a solution to not being hungover,” she said, flipping her notebook open.

“Not drinking?”

She popped a Skittle into her mouth. “Never being sober.”

“Valid point.”

Pam started the class and I had other things to think about for the next hour.

“You know, your sister keeps you on a tight leash,” Hannah said as we ate lunch. “What did you do?”

What hadn’t I done? I’d been the poster child for destructive behavior last summer. You name it, I’d done it. Staying out late, partying, drinking, whatever. I’d done what I wanted, when I’d wanted to do it and hadn’t cared what anyone said or tried to do about it. It was fun. For a while. Even though I’d gotten most of it out of my system, I’d burned too many bridges and it was going to be hell to reconstruct them.

“Let’s just say I went through my wild-child phase.”

“You don’t seem like that now.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve gotten wiser in my old age.”

She snorted in disbelief. “Dude, how old are you?”

“Eighteen. I started college when I was seventeen. My birthday’s in a month and a half.”

“Baby. I’m already nineteen, so I am both older and wiser.”

“So what advice do you have for me, oh wise one?”

“Always drink less than you think you can, trust your gut, and the next time you see Dusty Sharp, you’d better make a move.” She gave me a big smile.

“That’s not really what I meant.” I hadn’t told her about the little moment, if that’s what you could call it, that Dusty and I had last night in the car. It was so minor I would have felt stupid bringing it up.

We’d talked. We’d both been awkward. The end.

“I am going to have to have an intervention with you two, I swear. He likes you…you like him. The equation is pretty simple, and I kind of suck at math. You plus Dusty equals…” She waved her hand in a circle, searching for the right word.

I was pretty sure it was disaster.

She snapped her fingers.

“Sexplosion.”

“Really? You spent all that thinking and that’s what you came up with?”