“Amy, wait.”
I spin around, and it takes everything in me not to scream, not to just turn into an animal, open my mouth, and emit a battle cry. “Get the hell away from me,” I growl at him. “Haven’t you fucked up my life enough?”
“I never thought she’d figure it out,” he says, his voice a whine. “I changed words around so it wouldn’t be obvious.”
I laugh up at the ceiling, a hysterical sound. “Right. Because she’s too stupid to figure that out. Well, I hope you’re happy, because now I’m going to get a fucking B, and Petra is going to be val.”
“You were already struggling.”
I freeze. “What did you say?”
He almost looks embarrassed that he even said it, but it’s too late to take it back now. “People are saying you probably weren’t going to make val anyway because you’ve been struggling in calculus.”
My eyes shoot to him. “Who told you that?”
He shrugs.
“Don’t fucking shrug. If you’re going to gossip about me, at least get your facts straight. I might have slipped, but I’ve been doing better.” I can almost believe it, too, while I shout it in his face.
He rolls his eyes. “You’re not going to get anywhere when you’re spending your weekends with that guy’s tongue down your throat for everyone to see.”
I’m so shocked by what he says, I skip right over angry and straight to incredulous. “What?”
He gestures wildly. “That guy you were making out with in front of the tutoring center on Saturday. You should be at home studying, and instead, you’re making out with randos on street corners.”
It takes me a second to realize that he’s talking about Oliver. That we did, in fact, kiss in front of the tutoring center. That he’s admitting to watching us. I grind my teeth together and take a menacing step toward him. “Why do you even care? You’re the one who broke up with me. You’re the one who’s seeing someone else. And you’re the one who wanted to have fun, so why are you so concerned about where I am on the weekend? Oliver is none of your business and neither is my academic standing.”
I’m about to turn and leave him there, but he reaches out, his fingertips brushing my elbow, and it burns me enough to stay put. “I just want us to go back to being friends,” he says, and it is the most unbelievable thing he’s ever said to me, because we were never friends. We were two people who had friends in common, who occasionally ended up in a room together, and then we were more, just like that. There was never time for friendship. Just dates and kissing and sex and a million other things I wish I could take back.
“We are not friends, Jackson. Not ever.”
AMY
I HATE THAT I have to tell my parents that I’m going on a date with Oliver tonight. I hate it because I will never hear the end of their mocking and their teasing, and I groan because I don’t think I can handle it. But Oli is going to pull up in front of our house in, like, ten minutes, and I can’t just jump into a boy’s truck without my mother asking a billion questions, so I might as well just get this over with.
I knock on their bedroom door, where they’re inside, hiding from the twins and watching Law and Order.
“I’m going out tonight,” I say, barely poking my head in the door so they can’t see that I’m all dressed up. I’m wearing my favorite red dress, even though it’s still cold out, and a pair of boots.
Mama crunches on a handful of popcorn she just pulled from the bowl sitting between her and Carlos, and smiles over at me. “I thought you were off today. Where are you going?”
“Actually, I’m going out with Oliver.”
By the way they both whip around quick to look at me, it’s like I just told them I’m going on a date with Charles Manson.
“Oliver?” Mama demands, and I’m already backing away from their bedroom door because I don’t want to do this with them. I just want to go. “Oliver, from work?”
I nod and try to close the door slowly, until there’s nothing but a sliver of light left. “Yes, that Oliver. We won’t be out too late. Okay, bye.”
“Amaría Valentina Richardson, you get your butt back in here.”
I sigh and open the door all the way. “Mama, it’s just a date.”
Her face lights up. “A real date? Like, boyfriend/girlfriend?”
I roll my eyes. “This isn’t the third grade.”
“Where are you going?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. He’s just going to pick me up. He didn’t say where we are going.”
Carlos scowls. “I don’t like the sound of that. Are you sure you can trust this boy?”
I shrug again because I trusted Jackson, and look how that turned out. “Yes, I trust him.”
“And you’re not going to do anything inappropriate,” Mama pipes up.
“Right,” I say, without adding that Oliver and I have been alone on a dozen different occasions, and we could have had sex all those times and they never would have known the difference. But they don’t need to know that. The last thing I need is to be on a short leash from here on out, especially if Oliver and I do want to take things to the next level.
Mama narrows her eyes. “I don’t know about this.”
I sigh. “Mama, it’s just a date. You never asked this many questions when it was Jackson.”
She throws her hands up. “I knew Jackson. I don’t know Oliver.”
“Sure, you do. You met him at family dinner.”
“That doesn’t count.”
I stand in the open doorway while she chews on her lip, both of us waiting for the other to speak. But I’ve said everything I need to say, and when I hear Oliver’s truck pull into the driveway, I bolt down the hallway.
“See you later!” I call behind me.
AMY
OLIVER TAKES ME to Knucklehead Saloon, and I’m so excited, I throw open the door before he’s even put the truck in park.
I’ve always wanted to come here, but it’s not exactly the kind of place my parents are particularly eager to let me visit, as it’s mostly a biker bar.
“Who are we seeing?” I ask, rushing around to Oliver’s side of the truck and grabbing his hand to pull him along. Holding hands with Oliver feels so natural, like it’s something we’ve been doing our whole lives.
Oliver has a smile on his face that I’ve never seen before, and he digs his heels in long enough to pull me to him and kiss me.
My stomach cartwheels. Kissing him feels natural, too, and we ignore the people moving toward the bar from the parking lot in favor of making out against the side of Oli’s truck. His fingers skim my thighs, just barely skirting under the hem of my dress, and I’m suddenly very glad I wore a dress, even though it’s still cold out. Oliver keeps me warm with his body pressed up against mine.
“We’re going to miss the show,” he says against my neck, and I sigh before pushing him away.
“Who are we seeing?” I ask again, and this time it’s him pulling me along, my boots crunching along the pavement.