“Wait, really?” I jump off the couch. “I never told my mom where I was. I promised her I would come home early.” I dig through my bag for my phone and pull it out, and sure enough I have three voicemails. How could I have forgotten to check? “Gimme a sec,” I say to the guys before turning to wander down the hall. There’s no way I want Dean to hear me on a call with my mom.
She picks up after one ring.
“Hi, Mom,” I say. “Yes, I’m with Andrew.” I try to explain the situation to her, that we went over to a friend’s place after pizza and lost track of time, but she rages on about my birthday party, about how I need to be more responsible. It’s like she’s trying to push me away before I’ve even left home. I sigh and promise her I’ll come back, then end the call and head back into the living room.
“I’m so sorry, but I really have to go.”
“I can take you back on the bike,” Dean says. “We can walk back to Giovanni’s.”
“No way,” Andrew says. “You’ve had like two bottles of wine.”
“It’s no big deal,” Dean says. “I do it all the time.”
“Oh, so you’re a pro.” Andrew’s tone is flat and sarcastic. He turns to me. “I’ll just drop you off. I haven’t had anything to drink since the restaurant.”
“Okay,” I say, my voice hesitant.
He turns to Danielle. “And I can take you on the way.”
“Oh, I can walk from here,” she says.
“It’s no problem though.”
“Yeah, but it’s only twelve thirty.” She pouts. “I don’t want to leave yet. Not all of us have curfews.”
“It’s not a curfew,” I say. “She’s just worried because I forgot to tell her where I was.”
I know Danielle’s parents don’t care where she goes—that’s the whole reason we were able to leave her house a few weeks ago to go to Dean’s party. But I don’t like the idea of her staying here alone with Dean, especially since they’ve both been drinking.
Apparently Andrew feels the same way.
“Just let me drive you home,” he says.
“So you can kiss me good night?” She’s smirking, leaning her body toward him.
He runs his hand through his hair. “Yeah,” he says. “This was a date, wasn’t it?”
“I don’t kiss on the first date,” Danielle says, but still she gets up and follows him to the door. “Bye, James Dean, bye, Cody.”
“I’m really sorry,” I say to Dean. “I wish I could stay.”
“I wish you could too,” he says, and then he pulls me into his arms and kisses me in front of everyone. I’ve never had an audience to a kiss before. It makes me feel powerful, like I’m finally a real girl—one that counts. But there’s another part of me that can’t help the embarrassment that washes over me as Dean pulls away.
I know it’s because Andrew is watching.
Andrew’s truck has only two real seats, with a little bench connecting them that’s only really big enough for a child. Luckily, I’m pretty much child-sized, so we all fit up front—Andrew in the driver’s seat, Danielle in the passenger seat, and me squished in between them.
It’s uncomfortable, to say the least.
“Are you sure you’re okay to drive?” I ask as Andrew slides his key in the ignition. Danielle turns on the radio and when a Beyoncé song comes on she blasts the music, singing along loudly, her voice raspy and off-key.
“I’m fine!” Andrew shouts so I can hear him. I turn the music down.
“Bitch!” Danielle says. She leaves it but continues mouthing the lyrics.
“I only had a few sips at the restaurant,” he says. “I knew if I got drunk, I’d, well . . . I just knew it wasn’t a good idea.”
“Thanks,” I say, because I know what he’s implying—what he can’t say in front of Danielle. He’s worried if he drank he would have given something away, would have let something slip about the Plan he