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Speeding across town, I pull into the driveway of Travis’s house to “make sure Penelope’s cared for.”
The porch lamps burn brightly, but there’s no glare from Penelope’s bedroom television like usual.
Confused, I take out my phone and send her a text.
* * *
Me: Hey. Can you flash the lights upstairs or turn on your TV so I can confirm that you’re alive? Your brother wants to be sure that you’re alright.
* * *
The “message read” alert pops up, but she doesn’t respond.
Of course.
* * *
Me: Hey Travis. Pen’s safe at home. Just checked. She says that she’ll call you tomorrow.
Travis: Thanks man, I appreciate it.
Travis: How have you been lately? Is your dating app going well?
* * *
I know that he doesn’t give a fuck about my work, so I don’t bother answering his questions.
Instead, I mute our thread and drive out of the neighborhood—heading home for an all-nighter. As I’m turning up the music, Penelope’s name crosses my dashboard via phone call.
I hit ignore.
She calls again.
I hit ignore once more.
When I merge onto the highway, she calls me a third time.
“What, Penelope?” I answer. “I already told your brother that you were at home. You’re welcome.”
“I’m … I’m not at home.” Her teeth are chattering. “Not at all.”
I know that I should ask where she is, but I continue driving—letting a silence stretch between us.
“Are you still there, Hayden?” she asks.
“I’m waiting to hear why the hell you’re calling me at three o’clock in the morning.”
“I need a ride home. Can you pick me up?”
“Come again?” I pull into the emergency lane. “Did you stay at the arena to practice or something?”
“This drunk couple stole my Uber and the closest one is two hours away.” She avoids my question. “I can give you gas money since I’m kind of far. Please.”
“Where the hell are you?”
“The Avis Dorm at Central University.”
Huh? I’m certain that I misheard that. “That’s an all-boys dorm.”
“I’m aware.”
“Then what are you doing there this time of night?”
“I was studying. With a boy.”
“Right.” I make a U-turn. I consider telling her to stay on the phone with me until I arrive, but I don’t owe her anything. She’s never once said, “Thank you” to me for anything.
“Are you coming to get me?” she asks.
“Unfortunately. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
I hang up and drive fifteen miles under the speed limit.
She can wait.
When I pull up to the Avis Dorm, I can see Penelope arguing with a security guard through the lobby’s windows. Her face is beet red, and she’s shaking her head back and forth, looking as if she’s refusing to leave.
Dressed in silver stilettos and a thin, red dress that leaves little to the imagination, she was clearly here for anything but “studying.”
I honk the horn a few times, cutting her argument with the guard short.
She snatches something from his pocket before rushing outside, and the guard throws up his middle finger.
Where the hell is her coat?
She flings the passenger door open, and I turn up the heat.
As she buckles her seatbelt, I can’t help but notice the tears streaming past her cheeks.
“Studying is supposed to be pleasurable, not make you cry.” I pull onto the street. “Was your boyfriend that bad in bed?”
“You know what?” She wipes her eyes. “Can you drop me off on the highway? I think I’d rather wait for another Uber.”
“Too late.” I make sure the doors are locked. “Not that I give a damn, but please tell me that you used a condom.”
“I didn’t use anything, okay?” She glares at me. “Because nothing happened.”
“That’s not what your dress says.”
“My dress is a costume that I’ve worn on the ice before, but go ahead and snap a picture. I’m sure you’re itching to send it to Travis and tell him all about this.”
“I’m not telling your brother shit.” I look over at her. “Your sex life is none of his business. It’s not mine either.”
“That may be the smartest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“No, offering to get you condoms is. Do you need me to stop and get you some?”
“Are you dense? I just said that nothing happened. And nothing happened because my so-called boyfriend ruined Valentine’s Day the moment his real, college-girlfriend showed up.” The words rush out of her mouth. “He’s been cheating on me this entire time, and I can’t believe I was naïve enough to trust that a college guy would ever be faithful to a high school girl. That he was ever worthy of being my first.”
Yeah, you definitely should’ve known better than that.
“Would you like me to give you some boyfriend advice for the future?” I ask.
“Ha! I’ll pass.” She shakes her head. “I doubt that I’ll ever need your advice on anything. Then again, the moment I want to know how to be an asshole or a man-whore, I’ll give you a call.”
