The Force of Gravity(49)

We stop at a light, and my nagging curiosity gets the better of me. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he says, pulling his gaze from the window, fixing his eyes on me.

“Did you press charges against Slate? Or are you going to?”

“Slate?”

I pretend his stare isn’t burning a hole into the side of my face and keep my eyes straight ahead.

“No,” he says finally. “Why?”

I try to keep my voice light and casual. “I was just wondering. I got called into the office last week and wasn’t sure what all was going down. I don’t want him to get fired or something crazy.”

He scoffs. “Why do you care so much?”

“I don’t,” I say defensively. “I just don’t want him getting into trouble for me. I mean, I feel like it was my fault.”

He studies my face for a moment, but I refuse to look at him. “Slate’s going to be fine, don’t worry about it.” He pauses. “I’m fine, by the way.”

Heat stings my cheeks. “I didn’t mean for it to sound like I’m not worried about you getting into trouble,” I say. “But you did go a little bat-crap crazy on me.”

He turns toward me. “Aw,” he says, his voice dripping with contempt, “but you had your little Slatey-boy come to the rescue, didn’t you?”

“What?” I risk a glance at him.

“Oh please, Kay,” he says, slumping back into the seat. “Going to his study sessions? Blushing whenever Emily jokes about him at the lunch table? You’re so obvious.”

I open my mouth to defend myself, but nothing comes out.

“You really think I didn’t see you talking to him at prom when you were on your way to the bathroom?” he continues. “I could tell you were making him uncomfortable by standing so close. I told myself it was just the alcohol, but . . .” his words trail off.

“But what? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I practically growl.

He flicks his gaze out the window. “It’s cool, Kaley. Everyone’s entitled to have a little crush. But don’t embarrass yourself.”

I pull up to the curb in front of his house and slam on the newly sensitive breaks, adrenaline pumping through my veins. “What the hell does that mean? And you’re way off base.”

He lets out a harsh laugh, and his crystal-blue eyes pierce into mine. Any trace of the earlier sadness is gone. “It’s just pathetic to watch you around him. That’s all.”

“Get out,” I order.

He doesn’t hesitate, slamming the freshly painted door, and stomps up the walkway.

“No strings, my ass,” I mutter to myself as I slam down on the gas. My car howls as I accelerate down the road, the engine mirroring my anger. I don’t feel too pathetic when he kisses me until I’m weak in the knees, asshole.

Just when I start getting used to the idea of being in a relationship with Elijah, I’m reminded of how risky it all is. Graduation can’t get here soon enough.



I’M RELIEVED TO find my house empty when I return. I need to get a hold of my rage before I end up taking it out on an innocent bystander. I pull out my phone and text Elijah that my car is back in my possession. Hopefully, he’ll help me release some of my rage tonight. The thought has me eager to start my evening with him, and I begin packing my bag. My phone chimes, and I swipe it off my desk. I read Elijah’s reply with anticipation:

Have to cancel, baby. Have plans I forgot about. Tomorrow night, I promise.

I fall back on my bed and groan. “You have got to be kidding me,” I say to myself.

As disappointment wraps around me, Tommy’s words slither into my mind: Don’t embarrass yourself. . . . It’s just pathetic to watch you around him. Uncertainty trickles in, and I spring from my bed. I can’t sit here all night; I’ll go insane.

I text Emily: Are you free tonight?

She replies right away: Going 2 dinner with D. Wanna come?

Sure. I despise being the third wheel, but I’m desperate.

Cool, we’ll pick you up at 7.



I CLIMB INTO the backseat of Derek’s alpine-white BMW and apologize for intruding on their date.

“No worries, Kay,” says Derek. His infectious smile warms me. “Are you up for Scottsdale?”

Emily twists around in her seat. “I’m making him take me to Mastro’s.”

“Uh . . .” Mastro’s is amazing, but insanely priced. I’ve only been once when Derek’s parents took us all out after his brother’s graduation.

“It’s on me, Kay,” says Derek.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course he’s sure,” says Emily.

Derek glances back at me with a smile, and I’m touched.

“Thanks,” I say. “Sounds great.”

I actually feel relieved to be getting out of town—even if it means having to intrude on a night out with another couple. My heart aches for Emily, though. How many more dates with Derek will she have before he leaves for USC?

“How’d it go with Tommy?” asks Emily.

“Not that great,” I admit. “Don’t think I’m horrible, please. I didn’t know he was going to do all that for me—I can’t just forget everything that happened and—”

“It’s okay,” Emily says. “We’re not judging.”

Derek glances back at me, his eyes sincere.

I smile. “Thanks.”

The sun begins to set as we cruise up Loop 101, and I let them chat away as I gaze out my window, watching the pink desert sky contrast the rustic Superstition Mountains.

When we pull up to the steakhouse, Emily lets me out of the back seat, and I raise my arms above my head, giving my body a good stretch. Derek takes Emily’s hand, and I follow them inside.

While Derek checks in at the host desk, I take in the décor. I was practically a child the last time I was here and incapable of truly appreciating the ambience. Piano music softly penetrates my ears as the hostess shows us to our table. The gray stacked stone walls guide us into the dining area where wrought iron sconces glow against the brilliant-white table cloths. We take our seats at a corner table near an intimate rock fireplace.

“Okay, this is way too romantic to be dragging me along,” I say sheepishly.

“Don’t be silly,” says Emily, smiling.

I check Derek’s expression for any sign that I’m a bother, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all.

Our server greets us, introducing herself, and takes our drink orders. As soon as she leaves, I dive into the menu, trying to ignore the slight awkwardness of interfering on what should be an intimate and romantic date for them. I hear Emily’s breath suck in, and I glance up from my menu. Her eyes are fixed on something over my shoulder, glinting with intrigue. Her gaze slides to me and she gives a quick nod, indicating where I need to look. I follow her line of vision and peer over my shoulder, scanning the dining room.

And then I spot her.

The Blonde!

She is stunning in a sleek black jumpsuit that I thought only runway models and celebrities could pull off. The red bottoms on her stilettos catch my eye as she struts away, just as a man joins her, looping his arm around her bare shoulders. An older gentleman, who appears to be the restaurant manager, stops them and the three of them engage in conversation. The Blonde’s date laughs, then kisses her on the side of the head, revealing his face for a split second, and I feel a sharp stab of pain assault my chest.

The man is Elijah.

The Blonde pats Elijah’s stomach, then wraps her arms around him as the three of them erupt into laughter again.

“What are you two gawking at?” says Derek, his voice sounding miles away as the intimacy I’m witnessing sinks into my heart.

I spin back around, my mind reeling.

This is it. This is the reality.

He lied to me tonight.

Emily’s hawk-like stare examines my face, and I try to switch my expression to a smile that’s excited about the “juicy gossip,” but I know I’m incapable of pulling it off.

“What’s wrong?” she whispers.

“Nothing,” I say.

“What’s going on?” asks Derek. He leans into Emily, straining his neck to look over my shoulder. His eyes shift from curiosity to recognition. “Oh, geez,” he says relaxing back in his seat. “Slate and his girlfriend? Really? You two are pathetic.”

He said “pathetic” with friendly fire, but the word shoots into me like a poisoned dart.

“You know I only have eyes for you, babe,” Emily gushes, leaning in to kiss him.

“Whatever,” Derek says. “I’m going to call him over here. Maybe you two will stop pining over him when you meet his girlfriend.”

“So you’ve met her, then?” I ask. The question comes out a little more aggressive than I planned.

“Yeah,” says Derek slowly, his eyes searching mine. “She’s really nice.”

Emily scoffs. “When did you meet her?” She sounds uncharacteristically jealous.

“She was outside the locker room after a game, chill. Some of the guys were talking to her. I just met her for a second,” he says defensively.

Emily gives a tight nod, then sinks into her seat, sulking. I’ve never seen her like this. Derek leans in, giving her a light kiss that quickly turns deeper. I take their distracted state to dare another peek over my shoulder and see Elijah leaving with her.