I slant her with a firm look. “It’s still not safe. If you think I’d let you walk off by yourself, you clearly don’t know me very well.” I take a step closer. “I’m driving you home. End of discussion.”
Her eyes penetrate mine, and I see the moment she concedes. “Okay.” Looking down, she curls her fingers briefly against mine. “Thank you for tonight. I know I shouldn’t have come here, but I’m not sorry I did.”
10
VANDER
“Let’s go to the diner,” West says the following day at school as the bell chimes for lunch break. “I really need to talk to you.”
“I’m down.” I sling my bag over my shoulder and fall into step beside my buddy as we exit the classroom and make our way through the crowded hallway. He’s tapping away on his cell, most likely texting Hazel.
“Hey, Van.” Gayle Turner lounges against her locker, wiggling her fingers and smiling at me.
I jerk my head in her direction, in a brief acknowledgment, and pick up my pace. West chuckles as he pockets his cell. “That girl is persistent.”
“She’s a pain in the ass. I’ve told her countless times I’m not interested, in countless ways, and nothing gets through to her.” I have tried letting her down nicely, and I have deliberately been a prick. Nothing seems to faze her. She’s got balls, I’ll give her that.
“Maybe you should just fuck her. Give her something to brag about, and it might do the trick.”
“I’d rather stick rusty nails in my balls.”
West chuckles again as we push through the double doors, out to the student parking lot. “You need a girlfriend. She’d back down then.”
“You think?” I arch a brow. “Girls like Gayle love a challenge. If I had a girlfriend, she’d probably make it her mission to break us up. Try to get me to cheat or create the illusion I was.” We reach my truck first, and I unlock the doors, throwing my bag in the back before climbing behind the wheel.
West slides into the passenger seat, turns the stereo on, and cranks the volume to an ear-shattering level. Beats rumble the windows as I pull my truck away from school, heading downtown.
The diner is quiet today, even for a Monday. After we’ve placed our orders, we settle back into the booth, across from one another. I wait impatiently for my buddy to start talking. I’m dying to know what happened after I left his house yesterday.
“My dad admitted the affair,” he eventually says, staring out the window with a troubled look in his eyes.
“He didn’t have much of a choice,” I retort, working hard to keep the anger from my tone.
He turns to face me. “He apologized to Mom and us, said his family was his priority, and he was stressed ’cause of his new job.”
A likely fucking story. I don’t believe a word out of that asshole’s mouth, but I can’t share those thoughts with West. I’ve got to put my feelings for Kendall aside and be here for my best friend. “What’d your mom say?” I ask, lifting my bottle of water to my lips and feigning nonchalance.
“She said it’s between her and Dad and they would try harder to fix things. That I should focus on school and football.”
“I can’t believe she took him back after he cheated. She should’ve kicked his disloyal ass to the curb.”
Pain glimmers in his eyes, and his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “There’s a big part of me that agrees with you, but another part of me is so fucking relieved she didn’t.” He rubs at his temples. “That makes me a selfish prick, right?”
“It’s your family, and you’re scared. I get it.”
He exhales heavily. “I’m still so fucking pissed at him for doing that to my mom.”
Understatement of the century, bud. I could easily murder Curtis Hawthorne and not lose any sleep over it. I dig my nails into my thigh under the table in an attempt to quell the red rage sweeping through my veins. Every time I think about how he has disrespected Kendall, I want to rip his head from his shoulders and slice his cock off.
Tears prick his eyes, but he quickly averts his gaze. A few tense beats pass before he lifts his head, eyeballing me. “He said all the right things, and Mom reassured us too. I left the room thinking everything would be okay, but after this morning—” Air whooshes out of his mouth as he shakes his head. “I don’t know, man. I really don’t know.”
My hackles are instantly raised and I lean forward, pressing my elbows to the table. “What happened this morning?”
He cringes, opening his mouth to speak just as the waitress appears. We don’t talk as she sets our food down in front of us. West twirls the pasta around his fork, and I try to remain patient as I wait for him to elaborate. “They were all lovey-dovey at the breakfast table,” he says, just as I’ve swallowed a mouthful of pasta. I almost choke on it, reaching for my water and knocking it back.
“It looked so forced,” he admits when I have stopped spluttering. “I could tell Mom wasn’t comfortable.” He sets his fork down and cradles his head in his hands. His shoulders shake, and I feel for my buddy. I say nothing, quietly eating as I wait for him to compose himself. His eyes are glassy when he finally makes eye contact with me again. “What if she’s only doing this for us? What if that’s the only reason she took him back three years ago? What if he’s still cheating and that’s why she’s miserable?” He lifts his fork, twirling more pasta around it.
I wonder if that’s why Kendall was upset last night. Everything West has said about their conversation hasn’t raised any red flags, so he could be onto something. Not that I can voice those thoughts. Unless I have proof, I can’t encourage the theory. It wouldn’t be fair to him. It’s on the tip of my tongue to suggest we follow Curtis to find out once and for all. But I can’t do that to West. If his dad is cheating again, catching him in the act would devastate him. If Kendall is going to all this trouble to keep her kids shielded from the truth, I can’t suggest the spy route.
But there is nothing stopping me from watching the asshole.
I mull it over, thoughts flitting through my head while I carefully consider my reply, trying to be West’s buddy, because he needs me. “If she did, that was her call to make, and she did it because she loves you.”
“I don’t want her to be miserable, but I don’t want them to divorce either. Fuck.” He pushes his plate away, grabbing fistfuls of his hair.
I have prayed my parents would divorce for years, and here is poor West praying his parents don’t while I’m silently hoping they do. I’m a shitty fucking friend, and I need to do better. “Look, man, there isn’t anything you can do, and worrying about something that might not come true is a waste of time. I know you’re worried. I hate that for you, but you should do what your parents said. Just focus on your grades and winning the state championship. Playing for the Oklahoma Sooners is a shoo-in then. Let them worry about their marriage.”
“I definitely think it’s a good idea to apply to a number of art schools so you have options. But if your heart is set on Yale, you really should talk to your parents, especially now you have sent in your early application. They are alumni, and I’m sure they can help,” Mrs. Wills says from across the desk.