Because You Exist(54)

And then her hand was grabbing on to mine. She pulled me closer to her. She didn’t let me hesitate. She was going to make me dance. Even if I was as sober as I could be. Aware of my lingering injures, Jo only made me shift from foot to foot as she held on to my hands. Soon, we were both screaming out the words to the song as she started to spin faster and faster around me.

When the next song started, Jo jumped back into the car and slammed her door. I walked around the car and joined her inside. “Don’t like this song?” I asked with a smile. My I-pod was playing Muse.

“No. I just think one stupid dance in the middle of the parking lot is good enough for the entirety of my high school career,” she replied breathlessly.

Before I could tell her how good of a dancer she was and how she was denying the male species a real treat, her phone rang. Jo looked up at me, her eyes wide.

“What?” I asked, wondering why she wasn’t answering her phone. I assumed it was her foster mom. I wasn’t sure what kind of relationship they had, but if she was any kind of decent guardian she’d want to know where Jo was at nearly three in the morning.

“Nothing,” Jo said, turning her eyes from me and fumbling around her purse for her phone. Jo turned her body slightly away from me when she answered. I half wondered if she wanted me to leave the car and give her some privacy. Which would have been stupid. Weren’t we past all this evasive crap?

“Hey. Yeah. I’m still out.”

For someone who was in trouble, she didn’t sound apologetic. Nervous? Yes. But not sorry.

Jo glanced over at me and offered a small smile. Whoever was on the other end of the phone was apparently talking her ear off. Jo cleared her throat and turned away from me. “I know. It’s nothing. Really. I’ll call you when I get home.” After a rushed goodbye, Jo shoved her phone back inside her purse.

“Who was that?” I asked, trying to sound like it didn’t matter. I’m not sure why it did.

Jo ran a quick hand through her now messy hair before pulling her hood back up. “Ben,” she replied, looking out the window. Looking away from me.

I gripped onto the steering wheel. “How’s that going?”

“All right. I guess. He asked me out. I mean not like a boyfriend or anything. Just like a date. Dinner.”

“Did he ask you when he took you home?”

“Yes.”

Of course he did. I stared straight ahead through the windshield. It was difficult to look at her. “What’d you say?”

“I told him maybe. You know, when things calm down. I’m not ready, Logan.”

“You ever think about telling him why you aren’t ready?” I asked.

“I’m not ready to tell him all that. We’re still feeling each other out.”

And yet she liked him. Without knowing him? And she was being honest with him? Weren’t these the things she always was saying about Jenna and me? I knew I could throw her words back in her face, but I didn’t want to. She was my friend, and she just needed me to listen right now. When she was ready for advice, I’d damn well give it to her. Starting with ditching Bentham.

After the phone call, neither of us quite felt like dancing in the streets. We were friends sure, but sometimes I think it was a little difficult for us. Can’t quite say I’d had many true friends, and she definitely hadn’t. So, when it came to those awkward moments, we both kind of shut down.

After offering me the quickest of thank yous, Jo practically bolted from my car when I pulled up to her house. No doubt in a rush to call the waiting Bentham. I tried to not let it get to me, but the more I thought about it, the more it irked me.

When I got home my mood went from bad to worse. Like Redskins losing the football game in the last seconds of the game worse. My uncle was sitting on the couch. Waiting for me. Like he suddenly remembered he was my legal guardian. Like he had sensed that I spent a good portion of the night thinking about how much he sucked.

“A little late for someone who isn’t strong enough to play in a football game,” he remarked before taking a swig off the glass of red wine he held in his hand.

Pretentious ass.

“Well, they still won. As I’m sure you already knew. I was out celebrating,” I said, moving towards the stairs.

“Just a second, Logan. Why don’t you come take a seat?”

Because I can’t stand to listen to you tell me how disappointed you are in me about missing the football game. Again. No. Not disappointed I wrecked my car. Not worried I could have been hurt. Disappointed I couldn’t add to my stats.

“Now,” he demanded in the voice I’d only heard him use in court. The voice that told me I didn’t have a choice. The voice that could convince anyone to do anything.