I grab my chips.
He sticks his hand in my bag and then pops a chip into his mouth.
“Help yourself.”
Christian smirks. “I did. Plus, I share my gummy bears, you can share your chips.”
Then he’s lost in another song.
I down my soda. For some reason, my heart is beating a little too fast.
But it’s easy and natural, almost like being by myself, but not lonely. It’s amazing how much more alone you can feel without someone sitting beside you. Just feeling the heat of another person’s body and hearing his breathing and knowing he’s completely comfortable with you. That he’s not questioning you, or looking inside you to try to find answers you’re afraid to give.
In a way, it’s freeing.
“You’re thinking hard over there,” Christian says.
“Just listening to you play.” I glance over at him.
“Well, it’s because of you I even play the guitar.”
My heart jumps. “What? How is that?”
“When we moved, things weren’t easy for a while.” I realize he doesn’t know what his mom told me. Christian continues before I decide if I should bring it up or not. “That’s when I started getting pissed about stuff. When Mom made me talk to a counselor about it, it helped, but not completely. I don’t know what made me think about it, but I remembered you with your pottery. I decided I needed to find something that was mine. So yeah, when I’m famous one day, you’ll be able to say Christian Medina plays the guitar because of me.” He grabs another one of my chips and pops it into his mouth.
Words get trapped in my throat. My body feels all jittery. “Really? Because of me?”
“Yep.”
He didn’t have to tell me that. It makes me want to give him a truth, too. I feel like I owe him one. “I know you’ve heard rumors about what happened to me… About what I did.”
“I told you I don’t listen to that stuff. I don’t know the story until I hear it from you. My mom taught me that.”
“Still, you’ve heard it and I know what everyone thinks… And I didn’t… Lie, I mean. I know people wonder if I knew about Jason or if I lied about my age, and I didn’t. I usually don’t bother denying it, since I know people won’t believe it anyway.” A weight lifts off my chest with the admission. I didn’t know who Jason was. I never would have lied about my age. It’s something I should have admitted sooner. Should have made sure everyone knew, instead of hoping it would just go away.
I consider telling him about Jason talking to me at the store, about the phone call, but decide against it. Baby steps.
“I believe you. They taught me that in counseling. To trust people unless they give you a reason not to.”
My arms itch to reach out and hug him. “Thanks.”
Before he can reply, the bell rings. Lunch is over, plumes of students filling the halls again. Christian stands and holds out his hand to help me up. I take it and he smiles. “Thanks for eating with me today. See ya last period.”
And then he’s gone.
…
After school, I grab what I need from my locker and head toward Christian’s car. My old friends are out there, talking, their cars parked next to one another—next to Christian’s. Another one of my inner demons sprouts up. Like that game kids play where you hit the mole with the mallet, there’s always more cropping up.
They’re talking to Christian through his window and he’s laughing at something. A week ago I probably would have waited to go out. I’m tired of being afraid, though, so I put one foot in front of the other and keep going.
“Hey, slow ass,” Christian teases when I get in the car.
“Hey.” I pull my backpack to my lap. Ellie wraps her arms around her boyfriend’s waist and looks over at me. For a second, I think I see the flash of a smile, but it’s gone too quickly for me to know for sure.
“I gotta go. Robin’s waiting for me,” Ian says.
“We’re out of here, too,” Kevin adds. “Later, Christian. Later, Brynn.” Ian looks at him, his jaw tight, and Kevin just shrugs.
“You ready to get out of here, Bryntastic?” Christian asks while everyone is still at the window. I give him a nod, he starts his car, and we pull away. “Want to tell me why things are so weird with you guys?”
Without thinking, I reach over and grab a few gummy bears from the bag in between us. “No.” I feel bad for my reply, but it’s true. I don’t want to tell him. I don’t want to talk about any of it with anyone.
“I’m crushed. I thought we were friends? I give you my gummy bears. Drive you to school, and this is the thanks I get?” I look over at him, surprised, and then his eyes find mine. “Relax—I’m giving you shit. Kind of…”
Something about the way he says it—not probing, not questioning, just curious—makes me open my mouth and speak. “It has to do with what I told you at lunch. They think I lied to them. That’s what Diana and Ellie say. We were close. I didn’t lie, but I…I guess I wasn’t completely honest, either. Plus, I sort of pushed them away when Mom died.” Still, I wish for the benefit of the doubt. Wish that they would believe me, or at least forgive me. Have I asked?
“Girls are seriously screwed up.”
“What?”
“I’m not trying to be a jerk, but it’s true. So you lied—”
“I didn’t!”
He shrugs and grabs a bear. “Who cares? Even if you did, why do they drag it on forever? Why does everything have to be such a big deal? Seriously, get over it already. No offense, but girls are your own worst enemies. You don’t even have to worry about guys screwing you over because you do it to each other.”
It’s not something I haven’t thought before, but it also annoys me, too. It’s one thing for a girl to think that, but different when it’s a guy. “That’s totally sexist.”
“No it’s not. I’m serious. I can’t tell you how much I hear in the hallways at school. Someone’s always talking shit about someone else. ‘Don’t tell so and so I said this, but…’ Talking about what their best friend is wearing or whatever, and then they’re all smiling and hugging two minutes later. That’s the kind of stuff my sister used to deal with, except they said a lot to her face. I don’t get it. If Todd lied to me about something, I’d tell him he’s a douche and get over it, punch him in the nose and get over it, or I wouldn’t care and I’d get over it. I can promise you I wouldn’t be whispering in the hallway and shooting daggers out of my eyes and making other people’s lives hell.”
Words won’t find their way into my mouth. This is the most worked up I’ve seen Christian except for when he got angry at the center. There’s something in his eyes, something a little harder—more serious than I usually see from him.
I wait for him to continue but he doesn’t. Christian keeps his eyes on the road, his jaw locked.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Not right now, Brynn.”
I turn my eyes to face forward, quiet for the rest of the ride. Questions simmer inside me but never boil over. The air in the car is thick the rest of the way home. Christian doesn’t say a word and I don’t either. It’s not until we pull into his driveway that he looks my way. “I didn’t mean to go all postal.”
My shoulders lift in a shrug. “All you did was pout. You’re forgiven for that.”
“What? I didn’t pout.”
Smiling at him, I reply, “Yeah, you kind of did. But I’ve pouted before, too, so we’ll forget it ever happened.”
“It just pisses me off.” Christian sighs. “My family went through a lot. Especially my sister. I don’t get why people are such assholes.”
“At least you said people this time and not girls.”
“No, not just girls, but you have to admit, chica, girls are loco.”
I open my mouth, and laugh so hard I can’t get any words out. So I nod my head, hoping he knows I agree.
“What are you gonna do today?” Christian asks when we finally stop laughing.
“Ugh. I have so much homework.”
“Yeah, me too, so I’ll just pretend I don’t have any.”
“What? Oh my God. You can’t do that.”
Christian grins and I wonder if anyone in the world does it as much as he does. Just a few minutes ago he was angry, but he managed to work himself through it so quickly. “Actually, I can. It’s pretty easy. You can try it, too, if you want. Hell, even leave your backpack in my car. Out of sight, out of mind.”
I look at him, trying to figure out if he’s joking or not, but I can’t tell. I realize I kind of want him to be leaning toward not. The thought of going inside and opening my books and working alone puts a weight in my gut. Today I’ve felt almost like the old me, and I don’t want to let that go.
“What are you going to do?” I ask, trying to sound much more relaxed than I feel. It’s such a simple question, but it’s also putting myself out there.
“I have to grab some food to bring down to the center for Mom.”
“Do you like going?”
He shrugs. “Sometimes. I used to hate it when I first started talking to a counselor in our old town. Now it’s okay most of the time. It helped. There are days I don’t feel like it, though. I know you saw me there.”
My eyes dart to my lap. “I was a bitch to you that day.”
He huffs. “It wasn’t your best day. That wasn’t all it was, though. Sometimes we just have bad days, Bryntastic. It goes with the territory of living.” He raises his eyebrows. “I read that in a book, too.”
I swat his arm. “You are so crazy.” Pause and then go with my gut. “Are you sure you don’t mind if I go with you?”
“I don’t know… Not sure if I want to be seen with ya.”
“You suck.” I cross my arms and pretend to pout before I realize what I’m doing. That I’m teasing him the way I would have before.
“Plus, my mom would kick my ass if I told you no.”
“That’s because she’s smart.”
“And you’re smiling,” he says before he gets out of the car, without giving me a chance to reply. I’m happy for it. Glad I don’t have to make excuses or feel bad or stress about having fun. For the first time in a long time, I just want to try to do it.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Now
It doesn’t take long for Christian and me to grab the food and drive to the center. We go through the back and I help him carry everything inside. People hurry around, shouting orders and laughing and talking. It feels good to be a part of it. To help with whatever random reason they’re using to throw another party.
It’s cool that they plan so many get-togethers. It must help the people who have nowhere else to go. People like me, I guess.
Christian looks over at me and gives me a little head nod. My legs go weak. Catching my foot on something—I don’t even know, my other foot, I guess—I almost trip.
“I don’t remember you being this clumsy. You almost ran me over the first day I came back and now you’re tripping all over the place,” Christian teases.
I roll my eyes at him. “I’m not clumsy.” And I’m not, but it’s pretty impossible not to trip when Christian Medina looks at you the way he just looked at me.
When he leans toward me, I freeze, unable to move. Warning bells go off inside me. He’s getting close. Too close. I haven’t had a boy close to me since Jason.
“Maybe I just have that effect on you,” he whispers close to my ear.