Meet Me at Midnight - Jessica Pennington Page 0,90
second date in before the party, so she can be done with me and cut me loose like every other guy.
“Fine,” I say.
“I’ll just tell my parents I want to go home that weekend, and you’re going to drop me off on your way.”
She didn’t say it like it’s optional, but I try anyway. “Or we could just tell them you’re going with me. Your parents won’t care that we’re going somewhere together for the weekend.” I’m testing a theory.
Sid bites her lip, and it’s all the answer I need. “You’re making it sound like we’re taking a romantic weekend trip, and not going to sit in a tent to sneak sips of keg beer out of plastic cups when we’re not talking to your friend’s sixty-year-old aunts who want to know our life stories.”
I can’t help shaking my head at the vivid scenario she’s conjured up already. “I thought you were mad I didn’t want to tell them.”
“I’m mad about your motivation for not telling them. We’re not lying, we’re just not offering up information on our personal lives. This is not need-to-know information. Our lives aren’t in danger. And we have nothing to announce. You’re taking me on a last-ditch date to a graduation party…” Her voice has lost some of its bite; she’s back to sounding like the sarcastic girl who insulted my clothing choices every morning while racing me for a stupid chair.
“That’s a lot of explanation for not doing anything wrong.”
“We agreed on four dates.” She says it firmly, her voice edged with that sharpness again. Before tonight it had been weeks since I’d heard it, and I’m hoping not to hear it anytime in the near future.
“Fine.” It’s not how I feel at all. I feel like maybe this is all a colossal waste of time. Like I’m playing a game that I can never possibly win, because the winner—or maybe more accurately, the loser—was picked before the race even started. But if I’m going to convince Sidney that I’m really in this, then this is my best chance. Maybe my last chance. “On the plus side, you can snoop in my room and get your lurky-lurker on.”
“Your room?”
“Yes. I have one of those. Did you think I slept in a crypt?”
“I wondered.” There’s the promise of a smile playing at the corner of her lips. This is our happy place—picking on each other. “But why would we be in your room if we’re going to a grad party?”
“We have to sleep somewhere?”
“Oh.”
“Is … that okay? I mean, I guess we could leave early and I don’t have to stay for the after-party and the bonfire and stuff. But that’s kind of the best part. I mean, I’m only stopping into the boring family part because Todd’s mom would kill me if I didn’t and—”
Sidney cuts me off. “It’s fine. We can stay.”
“We have a guest room,” I assure her.
“It’s a plan then.”
“Technically, it’s a date.” I wait for her scowl, but she smiles. It’s weak and tentative, but it’s there. Barely.
DAY 35
Sidney
I’m not mad anymore—not really—but the drive is still quiet and awkward. What are we supposed to talk about when we don’t know where we even stand with each other? It feels like with that one bit of info—that Asher might not have started things with me for the right reasons—we took ten steps back. And the car ride doesn’t help. Because I have three hours to think of all the horrible thoughts that have resurfaced over the last few days. Why would Asher actually want to date me? Why would he like me after years of going out of my way to make sure he didn’t? And if he doesn’t like me, then why is he doing all of this? What is the endgame to making me fall for him? The thoughts marinate and grow and become living, ugly things by the time we get off of the highway and reach the little town where Asher lives.
As we drive he points out everything we pass, like I’m here for a tour. And I don’t want to be interested—I try my very best not to be—but I’m dying to see all of these places. The tiny little place where Asher gets coffee in the morning, and the weird little antique shop where he worked after school his junior and senior year. We pass his high school, and even loop through the back parking lot to where the athletic center is. Asher pulls