The Force of Gravity(39)

He’s worth it.

My phone chimes, and I half expect it to be Tommy, but the screen reads “Garrett.” Adrenaline pumps through my veins, and I sit up to read his text:

Have a good night, beautiful. I’ll see you in the morning.

My chest flutters, then fills with warmth, melting away my angst. In the midst of all the drama with my parents, Tommy, and lying to everybody, I can’t help but feel content.

I text him back: Aren’t you breaking your own rules, Garrett?

He replies instantly: What can I say? You always make me lose control. Now delete this and have sweet dreams.

I imagine my dreams will be the sweetest they’ve ever been. After staring at the screen for longer than I’d like to admit, I force myself to press delete and drop back on my bed with a wide grin plastered to my face.





CHAPTER NINETEEN



“YOU LOOK HAPPY.” EMILY’S WATCHFUL eyes peer over her coffee mug as she leans in the doorframe.

“Huh?” I attempt a cool glance her way as I curl the last section of my hair, but it’s no use. When I turn my attention back to the mirror, my grinning reflection stares back at me in betrayal. No matter how hard I try to suppress it, it’s glued to my face.

Her eyebrows squish together as she regards me. “What are you smiling about? Did you make up with Tommy or something?”

My smile dissolves into a hard line. “No. I haven’t even spoken to him.”

“Okay, good,” she says. “I mean, not that you haven’t spoken to him, just that I don’t think he should be let off the hook so quickly.”

“Definitely not,” I agree. “What did Derek say about everything?” I give my hair a quick spritz of hairspray and toss my makeup into the drawer.

She shrugs. “Not too much. I think he’s torn. Tommy’s his best friend, so they have that stupid ‘bros before hos’ concept, or whatever. I mean, he’s upset about it, but they still hung out yesterday.”

I flick off the bathroom light, and we head to my room. “I don’t expect him to hate Tommy or anything.”

“Me neither,” she says. “But it’s just so weird now. The four of us are so tight, it just feels . . . strange.”

“I agree,” I say.

Emily babbles on about Tommy and the demise of our foursome, and I tune her out as I slip on my wedges. I’m wearing a soft-yellow summer dress with the intent of driving Elijah a little crazy today. The dress is flowy, but short. I know my legs are a weakness of his, and I just can’t help myself. I grab my bag and follow Emily downstairs.

Emily continues her vehement monologue about Tommy and Avery the entire way to school. I try to convince her I’m fine, but she isn’t buying it. Since I can’t tell her the real reason I’m not distraught over Tommy, I have to let her vent about him and “The Slut Bag,” as Emily now refers to her.

“Tommy made his own decision,” I say as soon as I can get a word in. “It’s not all Avery’s fault.”

“Oh, I’m pissed off at Tommy, too,” she says. “But Avery knew you guys were together. That’s totally breaking the girl code. She’s a bitch.”

“Well, she’s always been a bitch,” I say with a laugh. “But who knows what Tommy told her that night. Maybe he told her we broke up.”

“I can’t believe you’re not more upset about this!” she says, practically punching the air with her fist.

“Um, I think you’re upset enough for the both of us,” I say with a wry smile.

She glances at me, frowning. “I’m serious, Kay. Are you in shock or something? I mean, aren’t you devastated?”

I’m silent as I mull over my next words carefully. “Honestly? No. Hurt, yes. But I’m not devastated. If I really wanted to be with Tommy, I would’ve stayed with him that night.”

“Really? But I just thought you left because you’re not ready to go all the way yet.”

“I feel ready,” I say, without skipping a beat. “But not with Tommy.”

She turns to me, and I drop my gaze, pretending to smooth out my dress. Crap, I shouldn’t have said that.

“Then with who?” she asks, her eyes darting back and forth between me and the road.

“No one. Watch the road!” I say as the car swerves. When Emily’s focus is back on driving, I continue. “I just know I don’t want to sleep with him, that’s all. Honestly, I think it was more about Tommy than it was my willingness.” I didn’t plan on being so honest with her, but I don’t know what else to do. The faster we can all get over this, the faster I can be allowed to be happy.

She pulls into a parking space and cuts the engine. “Wait,” she says, just as I grab the door handle. “So you’re saying it wasn’t about you being scared?”

I give a slight shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe a little . . . but I don’t think so.”

Her eyes search mine as if trying to read my thoughts, and my guard immediately rises.

“Why?” I ask.

She chews her lip. “Well . . . I didn’t want to say anything, but Derek’s kind of mad at you.”

A small jolt goes through me. Shit, did he reveal his suspicions about me and Slate? “Me? Why?”

“Well, according to Tommy—whatever that’s worth—you were all over him these past few weeks. And it was you who wanted to book the hotel room.”

“Ha! Right. The hotel wasn’t Tommy’s idea, not at all. That was all me,” I say sourly. I lean against the door. “So, wait. Derek’s mad at me about that?”

“He thinks you led Tommy on.”

The comment is like a hard poke in the ribs.

“I stood up for you, of course,” she says quickly, noting my reaction. “I told him that’s complete bullshit and that you were just freaked out about going all the way.”

“First of all,” I say slowly. “Tommy has been like a dog with a bone since the day we became exclusive. And second of all, I have every right to change my mind.”

“I agree, Kay. But you just told me that you weren’t scared . . . so they’re kind of right.”

I glare at her and sit up straight. “So what are you saying? That I led poor, innocent Tommy on, therefore his actions are completely validated?”

“No!” she says. “I just—I can see both sides, that’s all.”

“Yeah, you’re great at that,” I say, my voice rigid.

“It’s not okay what he did, Kay, and I’m super pissed off at him. I’m just saying—”

“I get what you’re saying, Emily,” I spew out her name as I grasp the door handle. “Just promise me you’ll never work for a rape-victim hotline. You’re like the poster child for coercion.”

That pushes her over the edge.

“What the hell, Kaley! I’m just trying to show you both sides! I am on your side, but we’re all friends and this really sucks,” she says, slamming her fists on the steering wheel.

“I know it sucks!” I shout back. “And I’m sorry!”

I take a deep breath as I watch students pour into the building. First period is about to start.

“Look,” I say, lowering my voice, “I don’t want to fight with you.”

She collapses back in her seat. “Neither do I.”

“Great. My mom’s picking me up from school, so don’t worry about taking me home.” I step out of her car without another word.

Donovan whistles at me as I enter the building, and I stop myself from giving him the finger—I’m ready to explode at the next person who makes a wrong move.

I storm into Slate’s classroom and throw my bag down on my desk. I’m too livid to be nervous anymore. This whole mess has gotten way out of control, and I wish I could just run away with him and forget all the drama of high school.

“Kaley!” calls Avery from her seat. Her chipper voice twists my nerve endings into spasms. Is she seriously going to act like she didn’t just bang my boyfriend?

Emily’s right, she is a slut bag.

I ignore her as I lower into my seat and open my textbook.

“Kaley!” she says again, this time with a squeal. “You won Best Eyes in the yearbook!”

“Awesome,” I say flatly, without looking her way.

I hear snickers behind me and Avery huffs, folding her arms in my periphery. “Too bad there isn’t a Biggest Bitch category,” she says, hissing. “You’d probably win that, too.”

Several people say “Oooh,” and I roll my eyes, sitting back in my chair.

“I’m pretty sure you’ve cornered the market on that one,” I say with callous.

“Ladies,” says Elijah, cutting through the laughter behind me. “Cool it.”

“Sorry, Mr. Slate,” I say with a smirk.

His expression is neutral, but I sense a twinkle hiding behind his eyes. Avery flips her hair, and he takes roll. When he calls my name, I smile at him, but he flicks his glance away. My eyes glaze over as he steps up to the board, reviewing a bit of what we learned last Friday and introducing a new chapter. Last week feels like it was years ago. A different lifetime. Visions of him serving me breakfast and ravishing me on his kitchen island replay in my mind. Memories of lying in his arms during the thunderstorm tease me, and I feel myself flush. My pulse races as I think about where his lips were this weekend—and his hands—knowing that no one in this classroom has a clue.