The Force of Gravity(13)

“What about you? What are your plans after school?” he asks. I let out a groan and he laughs. “Sorry, touchy subject?”

“Kind of. Long story short, I was stoked to be accepted to USC, only to have my parents tell me they couldn’t afford it.”

“Ouch,” he says. “Sorry to hear that; that’s an excellent school. I have some family members who went there.”

“Yeah. My friends and I were all trying to go together, but that’s quickly falling apart. Derek got a football scholarship, as you probably already know, and Emily’s on the waiting list . . . and then there’s me.”

He clears his throat. “And Bradford?”

My chest tightens at the mention of Tommy’s name. “Uh, no. He didn’t apply to any colleges. He gets good grades and everything, but he could care less. He’s next in line to take over the family business, so he’s pretty much all set,” I say, hoping I sound nonchalant. I glance at him, trying to read his face, but it’s too dark. “Anyway, ASU is my only backup, but I haven’t accepted their offer yet. It’s like I can’t bring myself to do it. It makes it all too real, you know?”

“Don’t worry about that. It’s wise to accept their offer to lock in your spot. You can always pull out if something changes,” he says, stopping at a light. He looks over at me, and my body goes numb.

How does he do that?

When the vehicle is back in motion, I collect myself. “Honestly, I’m more upset over the fact that my parents let me go through the stress of applying, all the while knowing they couldn’t afford it.” I gaze out the passenger window. “Apparently, they weren’t too worried about it because they didn’t think I’d get in.” Why am I always opening up to him so much? I’ve opened up to him more than Emily lately. What must he think of me?

His glance reclaims my attention. “Seriously? That surprises me. You’re more than capable.”

I feel a smile pull at my lips. “Thanks,” I say. “That means a lot.”

Something about this little talk fills me with comfort. No one ever talks to me in this way, I realize. Something about it feels . . . right.

When we pull up to my house, I notice that my parents forgot to keep the front porch light on, leaving an unfriendly darkness to greet me.

He peers through the windshield. “Are your parents home? Do you want me to walk you to your door?”

If I let you walk me to my door, I may just lose my mind and invite you into my bedroom.

“No, that’s okay.” I open the door and climb out of the Tahoe.

“Kaley?” He clicks off the dome light, causing moonlit shadows to spread across his face. He hesitates for a moment. With only the glow of the dashboard, it’s difficult to see his expression, but he seems on edge. “This is going to sound silly, but please don’t tell anybody about tonight.”

I’m silent. I don’t know what my response should be. What did happen tonight? Does he think something happened between us?

“You know, taking you home and all that,” he continues. “As a teacher, I’m not supposed to be alone with a student.”

“Even if you’re helping out a stranded girl?” I tease.

His face is sober. “Never.”

“O-okay,” I falter. “No problem, Mr. Slate.”

Did he just wince? It’s too dark to know for sure.

“Thanks, Kay. See you Monday morning. Be safe.”

“Goodnight.” Reluctance grips me as I try to bring myself to shut the door. I don’t want this moment to end.

“And Kaley?” He leans forward on the console. “He’s an idiot for letting you walk away in that dress tonight.”

A thrill erupts from every nerve ending in my body, and I struggle to find my voice.

“Thanks,” I whisper.

Forcing myself to break his gaze, I close the door to the Tahoe and walk up my driveway. I don’t look back, but can feel his eyes on me as I slide my key into the deadbolt. My phone vibrates through my clutch yet again, and I hesitate before entering the house, finally allowing myself to peer over my shoulder. He’s staring at me, so I wave a quick goodnight. He doesn’t move a muscle and seems to be deep in thought—almost as if he is looking through me. I step inside the foyer and close the door behind me and lean against it, my heart pounding in the darkness. My breaths are uneven, and I try to calm down. I shift over to the window and peer through the shutters and watch him slowly drive away as my phone continues to buzz.





CHAPTER SEVEN



ON SUNDAY NIGHT, I’M FINISHING up the last of my precalculus homework when the doorbell rings. I can hear my mom downstairs, talking animatedly to whoever it is, and the jovial conversation continues for at least fifteen minutes before I peer out my bedroom window. Tommy’s silver truck is parked in the moonlit driveway. Great.

My phone has pretty much been silent over the weekend, except for a few brief texts with Emily discussing what happened at the party. She and Derek were hidden away in Derek’s bedroom during the incident—what a shock—and only heard the story from a few witnesses later that night. After I filled her in with the details, I was disappointed when she didn’t take my side. She didn’t exactly take Tommy’s side either, but her lack of immediate support left me feeling like she may as well have.

I haven’t spoken to Tommy since our fight. I didn’t even attend his baseball game on Saturday. It was an away game, anyway, and I didn’t feel like taking the time or effort, although it would’ve been somewhat satisfying to watch him play with a hangover.

The chatter below my room comes to a halt, and I soon hear footsteps ascending the stairs. After a quick pause, there’s a quiet knock on my door.

I stay seated at my desk. “Come in.”

Tommy enters with a gentle smile on his face, closing the door behind him.

“Hey,” he says as he sits on my bed.

I turn in my chair to face him. “Hey, yourself.”

“Why haven’t you returned any of my calls?”

“Did you call me?”

“I called you a lot.”

“Um . . . you called me a lot Friday night.”

“Yeah, that’s what I mean.”

I roll my eyes. “I wasn’t about to pick up a drunk dial. Especially after the way you treated me,” I scoff. “Why didn’t you call me when you were sober? You’ve had all weekend.”

“Okay, look,” he says, ignoring my question. “I’m sorry for how I acted. I was drinking and just letting off steam. I barely even remember it.”

I shrug a shoulder. “Okay.”

He looks at me expectantly. “Is that all you have to say?”

“What else would you like me to say? You humiliated me in front of everyone—I don’t even want to show my face at school tomorrow.”

“It’ll be fine, Kay. I promise. Everyone knows I was just drunk.”

“So that makes you unaccountable for your actions?”

“No . . . but I would never act like that sober—you know that. And honestly, I got plastered because of you.”

I laugh in disbelief. “So, it’s my fault you called me a bitch?”

“No, but I can only take so much. You made me feel like shit last weekend and all week at school. I mean, how should I react when my girlfriend acts like she doesn’t want to be around me? Everyone could see it, Kay. It’s embarrassing.”

I blow an exasperated sigh from my lungs. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” How am I the one in the dog house all of a sudden?

“Will you at least tell me what’s up with you? I feel like we used to have fun together; now it’s like I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

Yeah, you and me both.

“I’ve had a rough couple of weeks. I’ve been fighting with my parents about college, and . . . I’m stressed about the future, I guess.” That, and the fact that I’ve been lusting over your baseball coach and my math teacher to the point of obsession. “But apparently, I have no reason to be upset about that because ‘it’s no big deal,’” I say, thick with sarcasm.

Tommy leans forward and rests his hand on my thigh. “I said I was sorry.” I can tell he’s losing his patience.

“You meant what you said to me. I could tell.”

“I don’t think you’re a bitch, okay?” he says in a rush. “You’ve just been acting like one. How do you expect me to take that? You want me to just roll over and let you walk all over me? I’m not that guy.”

“Oh, I know you’re not. That’s why I would ‘never leave you,’ right?” I say, spitting more of his words back at him.

He lets out an agitated sigh. “So, what—are you breaking up with me now?” he says with blatant mockery.

I’m silent. He should be begging for my forgiveness right now. But instead, I’m apologizing. Maybe it would be easier to just end it now. . . . I lean back in my chair and close my eyes. I really do love him . . . and what am I supposed to do? Dump him for someone I can’t have?

“Kaley?” he says quietly. When I open my eyes, his expression has softened. “Are you breaking up with me?” There’s no hint of mockery this time.