Читать книгу One Small Thing - Erin Watt - Страница 10

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“I don’t want to go.” Scarlett’s firm tone doesn’t waver. We’ve been standing in front of the gas station for twenty minutes arguing about our plans, and my best friend isn’t budging.

Neither am I. My cheek still throbs from Mom’s earlier strike.

The girls who invited us to the party lean against the side of a black Jeep with its top down, their heavily made-up faces wrinkled with annoyance. The dark-haired guy in the driver’s seat looks impatient. I’m surprised they’re waiting around. I mean, it’s not like they know us. Their invitation was the result of a five-second conversation in the potato chip aisle after I told the blonde that I liked her shirt.

“Fine. Then don’t go,” I say to Scarlett.

Her brown eyes flood with relief. “Oh, okay, good. So we’re not going?”

“No, you’re not going.” I lift my chin. “I am.”

“Lizzie—”

“Beth,” I cut in sharply.

I don’t miss the irritated flicker in her eyes. “Beth,” she corrects, dragging out the one syllable as if it’s so inconvenient for her to utter.

Like my parents, my best friend is having a tough time adjusting to my new name. Scarlett doesn’t think the name Lizzie is juvenile at all—It’s more juvenile suddenly calling yourself something else after going your whole life as Lizzie! was her response when I announced at the start of the summer that I was now going by Beth. But of course, she’d say that. Scarlett is a badass name. Who would ever dream of changing it?

“You don’t even know these girls,” Scarlett points out.

Another shrug. “I’ll get to know them.”

“Beth,” she says miserably. “Come on.”

“Please, Scar,” I say, equally miserable. “I need this. After what happened today, I just need a fun, crazy night where I don’t have to think about anything.”

Her features soften. She knows all about the slap and the college application betrayal—it’s all I’ve been talking about since I got to her house tonight. I think that’s one of the reasons she suggested going out and driving around. She was tired of hearing about it.

“I really don’t want to go, though,” she admits. “But I don’t want you to go alone.”

“I’ll be fine,” I promise. “I’ll go for a couple hours, scope out the scene and then come back to your place, and we can stay up all night eating ice cream.”

She rolls her eyes. “The ice cream’s all yours. I’m on a crash diet ’til Monday. I need to look hot for my first day of senior year.”

A loud honk comes from the direction of the waiting Jeep. “Yo! Come on!” the driver shouts.

“I’ll see you later, Scar,” I say quickly. “Leave the back door unlocked for me, ’kay?” Then, before she can object, I hurry over to the Jeep. “I’m coming,” I tell the girls, because if I don’t do something outside my parents’ perfectly prescribed routine, I will implode. There won’t be anything left of me but scraps. That’s how I feel right now, actually, like I’m nothing but scraps pasted together by my parents.

“’Bout time,” one of them mutters, while the other blows a bright pink bubble with her gum.

“Beth!” Scarlett calls.

I glance over my shoulder. “Did you change your mind?”

She shakes her head. “Just be safe.”

“I will.” I climb into the back seat next to the blonde. Her friend hops into the passenger seat and whispers something to the driver. I lean over the side to address Scarlett again. “If my parents call, tell them I’m asleep. I’ll be back in a few hours. Promise.”

I blow her a kiss, and, after a beat of hesitation, she pretends to catch it in her hand and smacks it on her cheek. Then she heads for her car, and the boy behind the wheel of the Jeep revs the engine and we tear out of the gas station parking lot.

As the wind snakes under my hair and lifts it up, I count all the sins I’ve just committed.

Accepting a party invite from kids I don’t know.

Going to a party in the next town over, an area that’s not exactly white picket fences and apple trees like my pretty, safe hometown.

Getting into a car with strangers. That’s probably the biggest sin. My parents will ship me off to a convent if they find out about this.

But guess what?

I. Don’t. Fucking. Care.

They’ve already announced that I’m expected to spend my college years with them. We’re at war now.

I feel trapped in my own life, weighed down by their rules and their paranoia and their fears. I’m seventeen years old. I’m supposed to be excited about my senior year. I’m supposed to be surrounded by friends and dating cute guys and having the time of my life right now. People say it’s all downhill from here, and that’s just depressing because if these are supposed to be the best years of my life, exactly how much crappier is life going to get?

“What’s your name anyway?” the blonde girl asks.

“Beth. You?”

“Ashleigh, but you can call me Ash.” She points to the front seat. “That’s Kylie and Max. We all go to Lexington High. Gonna be juniors this year.”

“I’ll be a senior at Darling,” I tell her.

A slight sneer mars her red-lipsticked mouth. “Ah, okay. You’re a Darling girl.”

I bristle at the implication. “Not everyone in Darling is rich, you know.” I’m not lying; my family definitely isn’t as rich as some of the other families in town. Our middle-class suburb is safe and quiet, though.

The party we’re going to is in Lexington Heights—or Lex, as its residents call it—a working-class neighborhood where the houses are smaller, the people are poorer and the kids are rowdier. In Darling, coke and molly are passed around along with hash. In Lex, you’re more likely to be offered meth.

My parents would freak out if they knew I was here. Scarlett nearly had a panic attack when we had to stop for gas in Lexington tonight.

“So whatcha doing over in Lex on a Saturday night?” Kylie twists around from the front seat to voice the question to me. “You looking to score some party favors?”

I offer a shrug. “I just want to have a good time before school starts.”

Max whoops loudly. “Girl after my own heart! What’s your name again, good-time girl?”

“Beth,” I repeat.

“Beth.” Driving one-handed, he reaches his other hand toward me. “Gimme some sugar, Bethie. Time to get our party on.”

I awkwardly slap his hand and manage a smile. I suddenly feel really bad about ditching Scarlett, but I tamp down the guilt until it’s buried deep and forgotten. Besides, she was okay with me going in the end, even though I don’t think she totally gets why I had to go. Scar’s parents are cool. They’re laid-back and hilarious and they give her so much freedom she doesn’t even know what to do with it.

I get it. I really, totally get it. I do. Mom and Dad lost a daughter. I lost a sister. We all loved Rachel and we all miss her, no one more than me. But my sister’s accident was just that—an accident. And the person responsible was punished for it. Isn’t that all we can ask for? Rachel’s never coming back—that’s not how life works. But justice was served, as much as it could’ve been.

And I’m still alive. I’m alive and I want to live.

Is that such a bad thing to want?

“We’re here!” Ashleigh announces.

Max parks across the street from a narrow house with a white clapboard exterior and an overgrown lawn that’s littered with teens. Beer bottles and joints are being passed around right there in the open, like nobody even cares if a police cruiser drives by.

“Who owns this place?” I ask.

“This guy Jack,” Ash answers in an absent tone. She’s too busy waving to some girls on the lawn.

“Are his parents home?”

Kylie snorts. “Um. No.”

Okay then.

We climb out of the Jeep and weave our way through the crowd toward the front door. Kylie and Max disappear the moment we enter the house. Ashleigh sticks close to me. “Let’s grab a drink!” she says.

I can barely hear her over the deafening hip-hop song that’s shaking the walls. The house is crammed with bodies, and the air smells like a combination of perfume, body spray, sweat and stale beer. Not exactly my scene, but the bass line is sick and the kids look friendly enough. I half expected to see bare-knuckle brawls and people screwing against the walls, but it’s mostly just dancing and drinking and very loud conversation.

Ash tugs me into a small kitchen with linoleum counters and outdated wallpaper. Half a dozen boys crowd around the open screen door, smoking a joint.

“Harley!” she shrieks happily, and then she lunges forward and throws her arms around one of the guys, who separates himself from the group. “Omigod! When did you get back?”

The tall boy lifts her off her feet and gives her a very sloppy-looking kiss right on the mouth. I think he’s high, because his eyes are almost completely glazed over. I awkwardly lean against the counter and pretend like I belong here. This is what I want, I tell myself. A hard party that would drive my parents insane.

“Really late last night,” he says. “We stopped for dinner in Chicago and then powered through for the rest of the drive. Marcus said he’d rather drive through the night than pay for a motel.”

“You shoulda called me first thing this morning,” Ash whines.

He slings an arm around her shoulders. Is he her boyfriend? She hasn’t introduced us yet, so I have no idea.

“I didn’t even wake up ’til like an hour ago,” Harley says with a laugh. “Otherwise I would’ve called.” His eyes narrow. “You seen Lamar yet?”

“Nope. Don’t plan on it, either.”

“Tonya says she saw him with Kelly at the arcade last night.”

“Goody for Kelly. Can’t wait for Lamar to dump her skanky ass just like Alex did.”

Harley. Marcus. Tonya. Kelly. Lamar. Alex.

Who the heck are all these people? I stand there by the counter, growing more and more uncomfortable as Ashleigh and her maybe boyfriend toss random names back and forth to each other.

I look around the kitchen. Ash and Harley are still talking, arguing almost, about their friends. It doesn’t matter. I didn’t come here to listen to gossip. I’m tired of being passive, of allowing myself to be controlled. For the past three years, I’ve done what I’ve been told, taken the electives recommended, gotten the job that my parents set up for me.

And what’s my reward?

Another four more years added to my sentence. The cell door got slammed shut before I even got a chance to step outside. I glance at the case of beer. I could get drunk, but that’s too easy. I could get high, but that’s too dangerous. I need to do something between drunk and high that would make me feel good and piss my parents off.

A flash of movement catches my attention, and I turn to find a very good-looking guy stopping and leaning in the kitchen doorway. He has the darkest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. They’re incredible. Over the left one, his eyebrow has a gap. It looks like a scar from this distance. Or a bad plucking accident, but he doesn’t look like the type to manscape.

His jaw is covered with dark blond stubble, making him look older than all the other guys here. The boys in the kitchen, Harley included, don’t have any facial hair. And they aren’t nearly as tall as Blue Eyes or as built or as attractive.

Him. That’s what I need. A very bad boy to take me down a very bad path.

A sense of power sweeps through me. This would make my parents angrier than anything. All kids drink, but hooking up with some random stranger? It would drive my proper mother nuts.

Internally, I rub my hands together with glee and start plotting. He’s not making eye contact with me, but he’s not staring at someone else, either—guy or girl. He’s not exactly aloof, but there’s space between him and the others. As if they’re afraid to approach him. He’s got an aura of someone cool and together.

The very things that I’m not.

I glance down at my ripped skinny jeans and skimpy yellow halter top and confirm that my zipper’s zipped and my boobs are sufficiently covered. I’m not the hottest girl here, but he’s alone and so am I.

Besides, if he says no, who cares? I won’t see him again. And the whole point of coming out tonight was to do things that I wouldn’t ever do. To get a taste of real life.

“Who’s your friend?”

I jolt at the sound of Harley’s voice. He’s finally noticed me. “Hey,” I say, tearing my gaze off Blue Eyes to smile at Harley. “I’m Beth.”

“Harley.” He releases Ashleigh and wanders over to hug me. Harley’s a hugger, it seems. “Nice to meet you. Wanna get high?”

“Um, maybe later?” I say coolly, hoping he doesn’t notice the flush on my cheeks and realize I’ve never smoked weed before.

“Yeah, let’s save that for later,” Ash agrees, much to my relief. “Let’s dance.” She moves to my other side and links her arm through mine.

Dance? I sneak a peek at the doorway, only to find that Blue Eyes is gone. Disappointment washes over me. I wonder where he went. Maybe he’s also heading to the dance floor—um, no. He didn’t look like the kind of guy who would “shake his ass” to a techno beat. Way too intense for that. Most guys won’t dance anyway. They think they’re too cool for it.

“Come on,” Ash says, tugging on my arm.

I place Blue Eyes on the shelf. I’ll dance with Ashleigh and then pursue him. I let my new friend drag me into the living room, where the music is louder and the air is hotter. I start sweating, but it’s okay because everyone else is, too. Ash bops her butt against my hip and the two of us laugh and whip our hair around and dance until we’re breathless.

This is what I wanted tonight. To have fun and feel young and not think about the fact that my life is a joke. I don’t have a life. I’m not allowed to go to parties, only to my friends’ houses, and only if their parents are home. Driving around with Scarlett tonight was a huge no-no. Scar’s folks knew it, too—my parents have been embarrassingly vocal to all my friends’ families about the rules. I think Scar’s mom feels sorry for me. When Scar and I were leaving, Mrs. Holmes pretended not to notice and I love her for it.

And I love this. The music and the noise and this room full of strangers who don’t know who I am. Nobody knows about Rachel. Nobody feels sorry for me. Nobody cares.

I toss my hair back and bump hips with Ash again. Then I stumble midstep when I catch another glimpse of Blue Eyes.

It’s fate. We’re supposed to meet tonight.

He walks over to the L-shaped couch and leans down to say something to a stocky boy in a red T-shirt. His hair is longer than I realized, curling under his ears and falling onto his forehead. The dirty-blond color is almost the same shade as my own.

I grab Ash’s arm. “Who is that?”

“What?” she shouts over the beat.

I bring my lips close to her ear. “Who is that?” I repeat, louder. “The guy by the couch.”

She frowns. “Which one?”

I look back and tamp down a groan. He’s gone again! What the hell. This guy appears and disappears like a ninja. This time, I’m not letting him get away.

“I have to pee,” I tell Ashleigh.

She nods and turns to dance with someone else. I make my way out of the crowd. Blue Eyes is back, leaning against the kitchen doorway.

I take a deep breath and force myself forward. I’ve never, ever hit on a guy before. This is going to be disastrous.

I spy a row of shot glasses on a table. I grab one and throw it back. The foul liquid burns on the way down. I slap a hand up to my mouth to cover a cough. Over my fingers, I meet Blue Eyes’s gaze.

With courage I didn’t know I had, I pick up two more shot glasses and carry them over.

“You look like you need a drink,” I say, offering him one.

He takes it. “You look like that was the first shot you ever drank.”

I’m so glad it’s dark in here so no one can see me blushing. “Nah, I’ve drunk a few in my time,” I lie.

“Mmm-hmm,” he says before lifting the shot glass to his lips. He downs it cleanly and then tucks the empty in his front jeans pocket. My eyes wander downward and then flip back up to see him staring at me in bemusement.

“Do you know who I am?” he asks.

I run my tongue across my lower lip, wondering what I should say. Is he famous? I don’t want to seem uncool. “Of course.” I shrug as carelessly as possible. “Doesn’t everyone here?”

Something dark passes over his face. “Yeah, probably. But you’re still here talking to me. Bringing me drinks.” He taps my shot glass.

“Like I said, you looked like you needed one.”

He scrubs a hand down his face. The dark shadow is gone, only to be replaced by a weary expression. “I guess that’s true. So why are you here? Want to take a walk on the wild side?”

His last sentence is said with great scorn. Intuitively, I know that the truth is not my friend, because if I admit I came here to piss off my parents, Blue Eyes is going to disappear, and I desperately do not want that to happen.

Not because I think this is the perfect way to get back at my parents, but because there’s something interesting about him. Because I want to get to know him. Because I want him to want to get to know me.

I can’t tell him the real reason, but I can be honest, as embarrassing as it is. “Can’t a girl bring a hot guy a drink? I tried to get your attention before, but you disappeared. You were standing here by yourself and I took a chance. If that’s wild behavior in your book, then you must not get out much.”

He cocks his head. “Is that a joke?”

“Yes. But not a good one because you’re not laughing.” I stare at the shot in my hand. This has gone more terribly than I imagined.

He exhales heavily. “Because my people skills suck. Joke or not, we both know I haven’t gotten out much in the past three years.”

I have no idea what that means, but since I already pretended to know all about him, I can’t ask for an explanation. “Does that mean I should go?”

“No. You should stay.” The corner of his mouth curves up. “Not gonna lie. This is all very good for my ego.”

“It hasn’t been good for mine,” I admit, a bit testy.

The half smile turns into a full one and my breath catches at how gorgeous he is.

“I’ve never had a girl as pretty as you say so much as hello to me.”

My heart flips over and I’m so dumbstruck I can’t summon a witty reply.

He ducks his head in embarrassment. “Too corny?”

I find my voice. “Too amazing. My head is so big right now I don’t think this house can contain me.”

“Then let’s get out of here.”

“Really?” My eyes grow wide. “Where?”

“Just outside. I like it outside.”

“Me, too.”

He holds out his hand. Mine slips easily into his. His long fingers curl around the back of my hand. Against my palm, there are hard calluses. We leave the shot glasses on the kitchen counter we pass. I don’t need the alcohol now. I’m holding hands with the hottest guy on the planet, and I feel like I’m floating on air.

We maneuver through the crowd. Some people stare. I lift my head. Yeah, I’m with this hottie.

Outside, the noise thins out and so do the people. He leads me down the deck and toward a small shed.

“Do you keep the bodies in there?” I joke.

He halts suddenly. “You have a dark humor, don’t you?”

The remark makes me think of the hysterical laughter that burbled in my throat during Rachel’s funeral. How I covered my face to keep it from spilling out and everyone thought I was sobbing. It wasn’t so much dark humor as a defense mechanism.

“I’d rather laugh than cry,” I admit. “I cry too easily. It’s one thing I hate about myself.”

He lowers himself onto the grass. “That’s not a bad philosophy—the laughing over crying thing.”

“I wish I had more control over my tears. It’s frustrating when I’m mad but everyone thinks I’m sad.” I drop to the ground beside him, wondering why I’m spilling these things to him. I shut up then, and listen to the crickets sing as the faint music in the house plays in the background.

“You have a name?” he teases.

“I’m Beth.”

He rakes a hand through his messy hair. My gaze doesn’t miss the way his biceps flex from that action. He’s got incredible arms. Sculpted.

“I’m Chase.” He tilts his head toward me. “And I still feel like you’re too good to be sitting out here with me.”

“You aren’t holding me down,” I point out. “Are you telling me to leave?”

“No. I don’t want that.” He exhales again and his perfect body is momentarily framed by the thin cotton of his T-shirt.

Gosh, he’s gorgeous.

“It’s beautiful out here, isn’t it?”

I glance up at the night sky and then at Chase’s upturned face. It’s so cloudy you can barely make out the moon, let alone the stars. “I guess?” He’s beautiful. The sky? Not so much.

He chuckles to himself. “It could be raining buckets and I’d be happy.”

“Me, too.” Because I’m with you, I think. I haven’t felt this at peace with myself for weeks, maybe months. The fight with my mom seems like a long-ago bad memory.

His hand is pressed against the ground between us. I edge mine closer to his until our pinkies touch.

“Your fingers are long.”

He turns his head away from the sky to peer at our fingers. “Maybe yours are really short.”

“I have normal-sized hands.”

“Let’s see.” He slides his hand over mine and my fingers disappear under his.

My heart begins to beat wildly and my mouth goes dry. Body parts start tingling in places I didn’t know could tingle.

“Are you going to kiss me?” I blurt out.

His lips curve into that gorgeous smile of his. “Yeah. I think so. You okay with that?”

I nod.

“It’s been a long time for me,” he admits.

His honesty catches me off guard. “Me, too.”

“Good.” He tucks my hair behind my ear. He moves closer. “Then we can mess up together. Tell me if I do something wrong.”

He palms my cheek, strokes it gently. Ever so slowly, his lips meet mine.