stomach turned a little as I remembered my and David’s conversation in English class earlier that week, but I pushed the memory away. I wasn’t a mind reader, and if he’d wanted me to know about his father, he could have called, or even e-mailed. At least that’s what I kept telling myself.
“Oh, come on. It’s always nice to know someone misses you.”
I turned the picture over and looked at it again. “I have Ryan, remember?”
“Then why are you eye-banging that picture?”
“I’m not!” I nearly bent the picture in half in my rush to flip it back over and push it away from me.
“You so are!” Candy’s eyes widened. “Shut. Up. You’ve seen him naked, haven’t you?”
“No! Oh my God, nothing ever—”
“Spill it!” Wilma’s soft, furry body collided with the side of my head. “Spill it, before I beat it out of you with your four-legged love child!”
I shrieked and nearly caught a mouthful of Wilma’s skirt with the next blow. “All right!” I scurried away from her on my hands and knees. “It was one kiss! One, and that’s all!”
Candy sat back and gaped at me. “I take it Smurf man doesn’t know about this?”
“No. And I know I should probably tell him, but it seriously happened once, and you saw how paranoid he got on the first day of school.”
Candy rolled her eyes and pretended to gag. “He’s been extra attentive since a certain someone came to town, hasn’t he? Your morning make-out sessions have been more barfworthy than usual.” She propped Wilma haphazardly against my pillow and pointed a finger in her face. “I don’t care who you are, you will never rock a cheerleading uniform like I do.” Then she turned to me. “Do you still want to go to Arizona? You never said anything about putting it on the ‘to-tour’ list, and as your future roommate, I think this is something I should know.”
I shook my head, reaching out to smooth a dog-eared corner of the picture. “It was a phase.” I’d realized a while ago that my fixation on going away to college had less to do with the schools and more to do with the actual going away.
And I’d already done that.
I waited until Candy went home before I called Ryan. “Babe,” he said when he picked up the phone.
“Hey. How’re you feeling today?”
“I’m fine. Listen, is your sister sleeping at home tonight? Because I know she doesn’t like to be home alone, but I really want to see you. I miss you.”
We’d seen each other every day that week, but somehow I missed him too. All the, ahem, intrusions in my life lately had made me feel like I’d spent the past week in a drunken stupor, watching my life instead of living it.
“Oh. So you mean it’s been a while since you got laid?” I teased. To my surprise, Ryan sounded annoyed.
“No—I—geez, Kelse, I’m trying to tell you I want to spend time with you. Do you have to be such a pain in the ass?”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I miss you too, Ry. I talked to Miranda this morning and you’re in luck. She wants to stay at Carrie’s again. What did you have in mind?”
I swear I heard the dimple in his cheek reappear as he answered, “I’ll pick you up at quarter to seven.”
And did he ever. With flowers.
When I first started at Clayton, he’d told me he liked me by way of flowers. Orange and black carnations to be exact, sold by the cheerleading squad as a Halloween fund-raiser. He and I were in the same math class, and we’d chatted every now and then, but I figured he flirted with all the girls. Candy kept telling me he thought I was hot, but I found it hard to believe. I might’ve looked different, I might’ve acted more confident, and hell, I might’ve even felt more confident. But I was still afraid I wore it like a super-obvious disguise, one that people would see right through if they looked hard enough.
Which probably explained why I didn’t hesitate to accept the double shot of vodka Ryan offered me the first time I went to a party with Candy, even though I’d never attempted to chug anything larger than a dose of liquid Tylenol. He’d been so cute about it—eyeing the fitted Yankees tee that, until that night, had sat in a drawer with the tags on because I hated the way it clung like a second skin. “You