“Okay,” I say because there’s nothing else to say. It doesn’t bother me, and I can’t help but look at him to see if it bothers him. But his eyes are focused up on the ceiling, his fingertip absently tracing a shape on my hip.
I want to ask him where this leaves us, if we’re still just friends, but the room is quiet, nothing but the sound of our breathing, and for now, I’m okay with that.
APRIL
OLIVER
AMY, SITTING ACROSS the table, is wearing my headphones and smiling as she listens to Hunter Hunted. She tilts her head back, exposing the long column of her neck as it disappears down into her flannel shirt, and I feel like I’m going to combust.
We haven’t talked about what happened at my party. We haven’t talked about the fact that we made out in my bed or that I almost took her clothes off. We haven’t talked about what it means for us and our friendship. The last time we had this discussion, she was pretty adamant that we’re just friends, but does that still apply? Are we still just friends?
She bites her lip and slides the headphones off to hand them to me. Our fingers brush, and I take a deep breath to keep from diving across the table.
“I love it,” she says. “But a musical genius you are not.”
Just ask her. Just ask her what Wednesday meant. It’s been three days. You guys can talk about it. It doesn’t make you pathetic. Oh, who are you kidding? You are pathetic.
“This place is nice,” she says, slumping down in the seat so she can put her feet up on the seat next to me. She smiles. “I can see you in this place, late at night, listening to music like the world doesn’t exist.” How does she do that? Know everything about me without me even telling her? “How’s your dad doing, by the way?”
I shrug. “Still going to A.A. That’s all I can ask, right?”
She sends me a pretty much look and finishes off her tea. “You have to get back to work,” she says, slipping out of the booth. “The last thing I need is Brooke thinking I’m a bad influence on you.”
I snort and slide out to stand beside her, slipping enough cash on the table to cover our food and a tip.
She looks down at the money and then back up at me. “I can pay for my own.”
I wave her off, even though her comment is rocketing inside me. If she wants to pay for her own, does that mean this isn’t a date and we’re still just friends and I’ve managed to get my heart broken again without even trying?
But then, as natural as anything, Amy reaches over and laces her fingers with mine, leading me out of Charlie’s and out onto the sidewalk. We walk toward Spirits. My entire body is tingling, with ground zero being the places where her skin is touching mine.
It’s over too soon because we’re in front of Spirits, and she’s looking up at me with those dark brown eyes, and I’m fairly certain I would sell my soul if she’ll look at me forever the way she’s looking at me right now.
“When do you work next?” she asks, looking down at our still-linked hands. “I know you’re off Sundays. Monday?”
I nudge the toe of her shoe with mine. “We could hang out outside of work.” My stomach is rolling with nerves. That sounded casual, right?
She smiles up at me, the late morning sunshine making her eyes turn the color of milk chocolate. “Are you asking me out?”
“Fuck yes,” I say because I’m in love with her, and I want to go on a date with her, and hold her hand, and whisper in her ear, and kiss her, and do other things with her, and if she says we’re just friends, I might die.
But her smile gets bigger, so I drop her hand, grab her face, and kiss her. She kisses me back so enthusiastically, we start to tip over, and then we’re laughing into each other’s mouths.
“What about Tuesday?”
She nods and I kiss her again, finally letting her go so that she drops back on her heels. “Tuesday,” she says, and then she turns and walks away, and I’m watching her go and willing my legs to stay put instead of following after her the way they want to.
I’m about to turn to go into Spirits when I catch sight of someone in the window across the street, inside the tutoring center. I’m not positive, but it seems like maybe they’re watching me. It takes me a second, but then I can make out his face.
It’s Amy’s ex, Jackson, and his eyes are following after Amy and then traveling all the way back to where I stand. I want to laugh in his face, because he threw away something amazing, and now that amazing girl is mine.
I turn with a grin and go into Spirits.
AMY
WHEN OUR AP bio teacher asks Jackson and me to stay after class, I think maybe she’s going to assign us new lab partners after all.
But our teacher is frowning. And not that darn teenagers bringing their drama to school again kind of frown that teachers like to give but an I’m not mad just disappointed kind of frown, and I immediately start to panic because I have never done anything to receive that expression from a teacher.
“Amy, Jackson, I think we need to have a little conversation about taking this class seriously.”
I frown right back at her. “What do you mean?”
Her eyes move to me sharply. I know she’s not exactly my biggest fan, but whatever it is, it can’t be that bad, can it? “I will not tolerate you sharing answers. I figured you were studying together, but I certainly didn’t think you’d stoop so low as to copy each other’s exams.…”
She’s still talking, but my heart has stopped. When she finally ends her tirade, I say, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never cheated on anything in my life.”
Her eyes narrow. “Miss Richardson, you and Mr. Brody had almost identical answers on your essay questions, so don’t you dare look at me and lie about this.”
I see Jackson glance at me out of the side of his eye, and I know that I’m going to kill him. If I murder him, right here and now in this science lab, what are the chances they’ll still consider my application for Stanford? There’s no explanation other than that Jackson cheated off me, that he copied my test answer for answer thinking that she wouldn’t notice. But there are two tests on the desk in front of her, both of them with the same grade, a ninety-six, and of course, since we share a lab table, there can only be one explanation.
“I swear, I didn’t—”
She puts her hand up. “You’ll both get zeroes for this exam, and you’ll be separated at the next exam. If you ever pull a stunt like this in my class again, I will have you both suspended.”
The tears start before I can stop them. I’ve never been accused of cheating, and all I can think about is losing valedictorian. My grades have to be perfect, and I can’t believe I just lost everything. And because of Jackson.
Our teacher looks at me and sighs. “Oh, Amy. You don’t need to be so dramatic. There will be other exams, believe me. Now move on before you’re late to your next class.”
I’m out the door before anyone says anything else, but I can hear Jackson on my heels. Outside, the halls are already mostly empty, the bell for second period looming.