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"What the fuck was that?" Fallon asks, shocked. "Did Audra Jenkins just apologize to you?"
"I don't know," I let out a defeated breath. "Maybe she's turning over a new leaf."
"Are we going to talk about what happened last night?" Fallon prods.
I shake my head. "Can you just give me a little more time? It's still too…"
"Fucking painful?" Fallon offers.
"No," I exhale. "Too raw."
"Then can we talk about you making out with Kyle fucking Thompson in the parking lot this morning?" She throws me a playful smirk.
"No," I feel my cheeks heat. "Because we didn't kiss. He just dropped me off. That's it."
It was definitely a G-rated ride to school. I didn't touch him, and he didn't touch me.
Fallon throws a rolled-up napkin at me. "And I'm supposed to believe he drove all the way from Boulder just to drop you off at school this morning?"
"You can believe whatever you want," I wink at her as the bell rings.
"Well, aren't you feisty today," Fallon grins. "I think I like this new, improved Jenny Kearns."
We both collect our stuff, toss our trash in the closest bin, and start heading towards the exit.
My cell phone vibrates in my hand. I glance down at it. My stomach starts turning, my palms start sweating, and my head pounds harder.
It's from Kyle.
We need to talk. I'll pick you up from school.
I close my eyes, force myself to take a few deep breaths.
Matt wouldn't tell him about the kiss, would he?
And our date...right?
Chapter 21
I sit on the concrete steps in front of the school, watch as fluffy white clouds drift by, casting shadows across the parking lot. There are a few sparse cars littering the blacktop, aimless bodies gathered around in small groups. The smell of pine trees and fresh air and spring wafts by in the passing breeze.
My stomach is in knots while I wait for Kyle. My throat is dry, my palms clammy, my heart thudding restlessly against my rib cage.
He's thirty minutes late. If it were anyone else, I would worry.
But it's Kyle.
I know he'll be here.
When he first got his driver's license, he'd pick up Matt and me from the junior high across town. He was late sometimes, but he never forgot us. Not once.
Then, our freshman year of high school, Kyle would drive us home—sometimes just me when Matt had basketball practice. We never said much to each other. I'd stare out the window, watch the white-barked aspens and piles of snow and busy streets float by. Kyle usually let me choose which radio station to listen to. And, on occasion, I'd run errands with him, like stopping at the grocery store for Diane. If we spent too much time together, he'd end up saying something mean and crass and insulting and I would huff, cross my arms over my chest, and ignore him. Other times, he'd ask me about my classes, tell me which teachers he liked, disliked. Those times rarer.
When I look back now, it's strange to think that he liked me, fantasized about being with me. I was so immature, and he was so…annoying. Brooding. Dark. Mysterious.
That day in the cafeteria, when Colleen insulted my clothes and my hair, I looked helplessly over at Kyle sitting a few tables away. Everyone was laughing, enjoying the show Colleen was putting on.
Everyone, but him.
