“Are you sure we’re talking about the same Clint Clarke here? I mean, the boy who slugged away at our best friend?”
I nodded slowly, feeling so many emotions flood my stomach. Shock. Awe. Happiness. Confusion. But none of it was guilt.
Which confused me even more.
I looked up from my hands. “I really want to tell Michael about it.”
Allison scoffed. “You can’t. After taking the beating he did and stepping up for us—”
“For you.”
I looked over and saw Allison blushing.
“Well, at any rate, after what happened Friday morning, Michael wouldn’t speak to you for a while. He’s awesome and all, but the boy can hold a grudge.”
I groaned. “I don’t like the idea of keeping secrets from my best friends, though.”
She shook her head. “Trust me, it won’t do him any good to know. Plus, you’ve got me. You’ve told me, and you can keep telling me until you come to terms with what’s happened. Because I feel you shaking. I know you regret what happened.”
“That’s the thing. I don’t. I’m not shaking because I regret it. I’m shaking because—”
I flopped down onto my back, staring up at her ceiling fan. How the hell did I explain any of this to her when I couldn't even explain it to myself?
Allison lay down next to me. “You don’t need all the answers now. Just talk about what you can.”
My hands covered my face. “What the actual fuck is happening with my life right now?”
She giggled. “I know one thing we have to figure out, though. And that’s what to do about Clinton come Monday.”
“I… I don’t know, Allison.”
“Well, let’s start with what you want to do. What do you hope happens Monday?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know that either.”
“We should figure it out, then. Because something tells me he’s not going to leave you alone. Nothing is ever that easy with him.”
“I didn’t fuck him so he’d leave me alone.”
She paused. “Then why did you?”
I closed my eyes. “Because it felt like he understood me. And I liked that.”
Allison took my hand as the two of us stared at the ceiling. The smell of nail polish remover slowly faded away, but the memories of last night didn’t. I squeezed her hand, trying not to think about it. Trying not to root myself in last night. But I couldn't help it. The way I’d fallen asleep against Clint. The way his muscles felt cradling me last night. How I woke up at four in the morning only to realize I’d fallen asleep right beside him. Wrapped up in him. With my leg pressed between his and my head tucked underneath his chin.
It was so unlike the Clint Clarke I knew.
And yet, it made all the sense in the world.
Allison cleared her throat. “Penny for your thoughts.”
I squeezed her hand again. “I fell asleep with him last night.”
“What time did you get home?”
“About four-thirty in the morning.”
“Did he take you home?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t want to wake him up.”
“Why not?”
Because I knew if he asked me to stay, I would have.
I sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t know much of anything right now. I just—needed to tell someone. And you were the only person I could think of that wouldn’t completely alienate me for it.”
The room fell silent as butterflies ignited in my gut. The same kind of butterflies I’d had last night. Why the fuck did I feel this way? It felt like I had a crush on the school’s biggest asshole. Which was wrong on so many accounts I couldn't even begin to explain all of it to myself. I closed my eyes, trying to push all the memories away. It was a one-time moment I had the chance to write off as me being completely vulnerable. Not right in the head, what with everything going on between my mother and her bullshit boyfriend. And I knew people would believe me, too. If I told them it was a moment of absolute insanity due to my home life, they wouldn't question things.
But I’d know it wasn’t the truth.
And Clint might pay a hefty price for it.
Why the fuck do I care what kind of price he pays for it? He beat up my best friend!
“Shit,” I whispered.
Allison snickered. “Sounds like we need to find a distraction for you today.”
“You mean we can’t just lie here and debate on ways to erase my memory?”
She giggled. “I mean, it sounds fun in theory. But I wouldn't appreciate it if you forgot all about me.”
“Not my entire life. Just the past forty-eight hours.”
“How does getting lunch out somewhere sound? We can take the mind-erasing from there.”
And as my stomach growled out, betraying my actual hunger, a smile crossed my face.
“Soup and sandwiches?” I asked.
Allison sat up. “Soup and sandwiches it is.”
18
Clinton
I heard my father storm through the door Sunday evening, much later than I figured he’d come back from that damn casino. He was muttering to himself, something about bananas and shoving them down someone’s throat. I grinned to myself as I heard the trash can lid bang against the wall.
Good. He found it.
I heard Cecilia’s soft voice cooing at him. Treating him like some damn child as she tried soothing away his worries and his anger. It was pathetic, really. Listening to a grown-ass woman coddle a grown-ass man like that. I didn’t want to be in the house. Not with her, not with him, and not with the tension they brought with them.
If I was lucky, they’d be on another airplane in the morning. Heading off on yet another trip.
And out of my damn hair.
I picked up my cell phone and shoved it into my pocket. It was late, but I didn't care. I grabbed the keys to my bike and snuck down the stairs, bypassing the living room altogether. Stepmommy dearest and my bullshit father were curled up, watching a movie. And still, I heard him grumbling to himself. He was the most miserable asshole on the face of this planet, and I couldn't wait until I graduated.
Because I had all sorts of plans on how to get out from underneath him.
I opened the side garage door without a sound and rummaged around for the second bike helmet I knew I had stashed away somewhere. And just as I tucked it under my arm, I heard my father’s voice.
“Clint? You out there? You know damn good and well what your curfew is on the weekends.”
I threw my leg over my bike and cranked up the engine. I slipped my helmet over my head, then pinned the other one between myself and the bike. I zoomed out of the garage, leaving my house in the shadows as I tore out of the neighborhood. I didn’t give a shit about my father or his rules. If he wanted to be a decent parent, he could stay home, stay away from the casino, and stop beating up on me whenever he didn’t like something I was doing.
I cruised down the road until I came to the opening of the neighborhood. And instead of taking a right to head on into town, I took a left. I found myself at the mouth of Rae’s neighborhood, and I slowed down to see if I could find her house. I only had a general idea of which one it was. It wasn’t hard to spot once I came upon it.
I recognized that rusted-out bright green bike of hers she used to ride back in middle school.
I looked through the living room window and saw her mother watching television. She was leaned up against someone. Some dude that was snoring away with his head lobbed back. I shook my head as I walked the bike into the driveway. My eyes scanned the front of the house, coming upon one lone light that was on upstairs.
Hopefully that’s Rae’s bedroom.
I put the kickstand down, though I didn’t turn off the engine. I set the extra helmet on the bike, then started picking up gravel rocks from her driveway. I tossed them at the window, missing the first couple of times. But, the third rock landed directly against the glass. Making a much louder sound than I had anticipated.
But it did draw Rae to the window.
“What the—Clint?”
I waved. “Come on down. I have a helmet for you.”
She shook her head. “I can’t. I’m about to go to bed.”
I shrugged. “So?”
“Mom’s downstairs with some guy, Clint.”
“And I’m pretty sure they’re both knocked out. Or in a trance. She hasn’t looked out the window at me yet.”
I watched her bite her lower lip, and the motion tugged at my gut. She looked so cute like that, with her hair in a bun. I preferred it down, like it had been the other night. I saw a smile creep across her face before she closed her window, then the light to her bedroom went off.
At first, I thought she was turning me down.
Until the front door opened.
“Come on. We have to hurry.”
I smiled as I tossed her the helmet. She slid it over her head and I chuckled at her pajamas. She had on these flimsy pajama bottoms that had all sorts of stars and hearts and sparkles all over it. And the tank top she wore barely stayed on her body. She whipped some sort of woven jacket or whatever around her shoulders, then leapt onto the back of my bike.
And when I felt her arms wrap around me, my world slowly settled into place.
“I hope you’re hungry. Because there’s a diner I’ve got my eye on tonight.”
Rae giggled. “And here I thought you had your eye on me tonight.”
I grinned. “I have my eye on you tonight for dessert, that’s for sure.”