Arcadia's Gift(53)

“You didn’t reply.”
“I didn’t read them.”
He shook his head and gazed at the ground between our feet. His frustration was making my arms break out in goose bumps.
“Cady, will you just give me a chance to explain?”
I placed my fists on my hips. “Fine. You have exactly one minute, then I’m going in to bed. I’ve had a long day.”
He sighed. “Look, Monica and I dated for a few months before I moved here. It wasn’t even all that serious, but we’d been friends before that and when I left, we decided to go back to being just friends.”
“But she’s flying halfway across the country to go to a stupid dance with you? Yeah, that sounds like just a casual thing a friend might do.”
Bryan’s posture slumped and sparks of annoyance shot out from him. “Before school started, I was miserable here. Didn’t know anyone or have anywhere to hang out. I was so bored!” He ran his hand through his hair and blew out a heavy breath from his mouth. “I spent pretty much all of my time on Skype talking to my old friends. Monica had this idea that it might cheer me up to have a date for my first Homecoming here. Her family has money, so it wasn’t that big of a deal for her to score airfare to come out for a weekend. I only agreed because I was lonely.”
Recalling how lonesome Bryan had appeared that first afternoon in the library, my indignation started to falter.
He must have sensed it, because he stepped forward to take up my hands in his and continued. “She booked the tickets months ago, before I even met you. I’m not even all that into dances and things, but if I have to go, I’d rather it be with you.”
The sincerity in his voice was intensified by the warmth in my belly. I hated to admit it, but I could see his point. How could he let this girl come all of the way out to Iowa to see him and not take her to the dance?
“I don’t know why you’re explaining to me anyway,” I said in a huff, “It’s not like I have some claim over you.”
“You don’t?” he asked with a playful grin. “I’d say you have plenty of claim over me.” He wrapped his arms around my waist and drew me to his chest.
The proximity of his scent and the warmth of his sentiment won me over. Being in direct contact with his skin made it impossible for me to resist. I lifted my arms up around his shoulders and rested my head on his chest, his heart thumping in time to the waves of affection that he was unknowingly sending through my body. We stood there holding each other and swaying slightly with the breeze for a long moment.
“So,” he whispered into my hair, “I think I have a solution for my little dance predicament.”
“Hmm?” I replied with my eyes closed so I could concentrate on the beat of his heart.
“Well, I have a plan, but I’ll have to fill you in on it later. I need to get home now. My mother wants me there for dinner tonight. Joy. Joy.” He rolled his eyes.
“Okay. I’ll talk to you later,” I said, rising on my tip-toes for a kiss before he left.
Once inside the house, I shucked my shoes and went to the kitchen to fix something to eat. I was squeezing the unnaturally-orange-but-incredibly-tasty cheese into the pot of boiled macaroni when Aaron came bounding up the basement steps.
“Hey,” he grunted, dipping his finger through the river of fake cheese and licking it off.#p#分页标题#e#
“Ew! You better have clean hands.” I shoved him away.
He laughed. “Just took a shower.”
His hair was damp.
“Do you want any?” I offered.
“Nah,” he said, tying his shoes. “Going over to Trent’s house for a Call of Duty marathon.”
“Maybe you should try a homework marathon one of these nights.”
“You’re so funny!” he mocked before running out the door.
I was pouring mac and cheese into a bowl when from upstairs I heard the clatter of shattering glass and the boom of something heavy falling on the floor. Mom! Abandoning my bowl, I ran up the steps two at a time and burst into my mom’s bedroom without knocking.
“Mom?” I called out. The flickering light coming from the TV was the only light in the room, but I could see her bed was empty, the covers pulled back and resting half on the floor.
A moan sounded from the direction of the closed bathroom door.
I knocked, my other hand poised on the knob, ready to fling it open. Tendrils of fear, self-loathing and pain snaked through from inside, threatening to cut off my breathing, but around the edges of the emotions I detected the fuzziness of intoxication.
“Mom, are you okay? Can I come in?”
I heard her mumble something and then the word “fine.” She didn’t sound fine. I turned the knob and opened the door.