The Boy I Hate(27)

Steven cleared his throat, quickly standing and dusting off the back of his jeans. “That’s my mom,” he said under his breath.

Mrs. Mathers waved from the driver’s seat, smiling the same infectious smile as her son’s. Steven looked down to sidewalk, where Samantha still sat on the ground.

He offered his hand, helping to pull her up beside him. But his dark brown eyes were searching hers, and seemed to have lost a little of their light.

She swallowed. “Steven, I don’t think this is going to work—”

But one finger came to hush her, pushing her lips closed before she could say more. “You’re confused, I can tell.” He searched her eyes, as if trying to read her thoughts. “Don’t answer now. Don’t answer tomorrow. But when you get all this stuff sorted out in your head”—he cupped the side of her cheek—“call me. I’ll be waiting for you.”

She closed her eyes, overwhelmed by what was happening. He was right. She was confused, but it wasn’t about Steven. Still, she could wait until tomorrow, wait until his mother wasn’t around as a witness—because right now she had bigger demons to face.

When she was finally stood alone on the curb, after Steven had driven off with his mom in her hatchback, Samantha shoved her hands deep into her pockets and headed for the house. She paused when she caught a glimpse of Tristan by the garage door, a two-liter soda in each hand as he walked into the house.

She held her breath, unable to move a muscle. Had he seen them? Had he watched them kissing? Her heart pinched with fear and she stopped at the front step. It had been the briefest of kisses, so much shorter than the one they’d shared in the woods. But if he’d been there for longer than a few minutes…

She bit her lower lip, not allowing herself to think like that, and walked back into the house.

When she entered the great room, her heart instantly eased. Tristan was laughing and joking with his friends, playing pool with Beef, and looked exactly like he had last time she saw him. Relaxed and confident, like he didn’t have a care in the world, like he was the brightest star in the sky, and everyone had the privilege of dancing in his light.

She took a seat next to Renee, relieved but still breathless, and took another slice of pizza. The whole ordeal with Steven made her ravenous…and despite still having one conversation left to go, she took a bite of her pizza.

Renee leaned in close and whispered in her ear. “How’d it go?”

Samantha only lifted her shoulders and locked eyes on the television screen. A rerun of I Love Lucy caught her attention as she started chewing.

“Did you tell him?”

Samantha shook her head. “No—not yet.”

Renee let out a heavy sigh, picked up her paper plate and jumped down from her barstool. “I can’t take it anymore. They’re too loud, and I have a headache. Are you staying the night?”

Samantha swallowed, knowing her time to procrastinate was coming to an end, and glanced over one shoulder to nod at her best friend. “I think so.”

Renee tossed her plate into the metal trash can, adjusted her blanket, and headed for the stairs “Okay. I’ll pick out a movie. Hurry up, okay?”

“Okay.”

She took another slice of pizza, adding more to her plate that already held too much. But she wasn’t ready. How could she tell Renee about what happened? To tell her she’d kissed her brother, and that she wasn’t even sure it would be the last time.

Tristan was still playing pool behind her. Joking with his friends, occasionally laughing, and already she craved his attention. For him to sit beside her, too close, like he had in the woods. She craved more than that though. She wanted to talk to him. To get to know him—the way others never took the time. But all that would have to come later. She swiveled in her chair, ready to jump to the ground and find Renee, but immediately stopped.

Tristan was standing straight across from her. His arms were braced on either side of the pool table, and the brunette who had told him about her keg was standing right in the middle. His lips were lifted in a flirtatious smile, and his hips were pressed against her body, pinning her in place as if staking a claim. He leaned forward until his lips touched the side of her ear.

They were too close. Much too close for it to be innocent, and no excuse Samantha could come up with would explain what he was doing. She’d seen it a thousand times. Tristan standing too close to other girls. Too flirtatious, too—much. Pizza began to climb up her throat, making her nose burn with heartache and humiliation.

She didn’t understand it. How could he be one way with her, yet brazenly flirtatious with another woman while she sat less than ten feet away? A tear slipped down her cheek, but she quickly wiped it away, not allowing herself to cry over him.