Page 19 of The Right Time

“He’s watching us.” Trent’s words carry a hint of humor. He finds our discomfort entertaining.

I look over his shoulder and spot Lucas sitting in the car in the driveway, arm resting on the open window, head turned in our direction.

“He wants to see if I’m going to kiss you again.” Trent gives a play-by-play description as if he’s a sportscaster and this is the game of the week. It’s not. It’s a stupid game I started, not having a clue the damage I would leave.

I place my hand on Trent’s chest, and regret fills my chest, but I need to be clear. “For the record, I’m the one who kissed you.” I give Trent my complete attention, my need to make sure at least one man tonight fully understands my intentions. “It was reckless and stupid.”

“It was necessary.” Trent attempts to ease my guilt. “You’ve rocked his world.”

“It’s not who we are.” I shake my head at the hundreds of conversations Lucas and I have had about all our joys, our fears, about everything. Nearly everything.

Trent removes my hand from his chest yet continues to squeeze it. We both flinch at the sound of the car door slamming. “Don’t look,” Trent warns in a whisper.

I ignore his advice. I’ve always ignored any advice anyone has ever given me when it comes to my best friend. No one knows him like I do.

Not even him.

Lucas is watching, hand on the door handle of the house but feet firmly planted in place. I can’t read his face from this distance, but I think I’ve finally figured out what’s on his mind. I shoot a smile that I know he can’t see and give a wide wave that I know he can.

“Trent?” I don’t turn as Trent steps next to me. “Thanks for being such a good sport this evening.” My eyes remain glued toward Lucas, his hands now by his side, pushed into his pockets as he stares at me. “Can you deliver a message to your friend?”

“Sure, what’s it?”

“Tell him I said…” A sense of glee races through my body as I say the words I should have said last night in the tent. “Seven-minute future.”

Chapter Fourteen

Adrienne

6years ago

This is why I don’t like parties. I bit my tongue and attempted to hide behind the large red Solo cup filled with fruit punch. I stared over the lip of the cup at a group of friends. We sat in a tight circle, six girls, five boys, and Lucas Hobbs, my best friend, who deserved to be in a class by himself.

A more perfect boy didn’t exist anywhere on the planet. I had discovered that fact for myself over the last nine years living next door to him. He was the only reason I was at this stupid party to begin with. I’d much rather be biking with him on the Osprey Mountains. I’d rather be sitting on my porch, melting in the sun with him than being here.

Meghan Trainor’s warning words of “No” streamed in the background, totally ignored by me as the only thing in the room that held my focus, besides Lucas, was the empty eight-inch Coca-Cola bottle.

“Finally.” Brad Livingston, the host of this impromptu party, pumped his fist in the air and nodded in my direction. Brad was one of the popular boys in school. The type every guy wanted to be best friends with, and every girl wanted to be on his arm. Nearly every girl. Brad had been chasing after me all semester. He hadn’t formally asked me out because he expected girls to fall at his feet. But he had dropped enough hints: I’m thinking of catching a movie this weekend, you interested? Do you like Twenty-One Pilots? I have an extra ticket to their sold-out concert. I never took the bait. I was more than willing to wait for the right boy to ask me out at the right time.

Brad sat directly across from me. A position that wasn’t fated. The minute I pushed into the circle, dragged by my girlfriends, he changed his position in the circle—his house, his rules. Hence the reason we were playing a stupid game of seven minutes in heaven, also known as spin the bottle.

Three couples had already disappeared into the closet. The pattern repeated—door shut, whispers, giggles followed by silence inside. Laughter and inappropriate remarks outside. A knock, a rustle of movement, snickers from everyone, and then back to the circle. I knew the rules and had avoided this game all my life.

But the stupid combination of high school senior year and an uncertain future brought me to Brad Livingston’s house. That and, of course, Lucas.

My heart raced as I reached for the bottle. Lucas sat to my right; a position of support that made it scientifically impossible for us to be linked. Anyone but Brad, I whispered to myself.

A firm hand landed on my wrist. I didn’t need to look down to know who it belonged to. “Nothing happens here you don’t want.” Lucas reminded me why he had a permanent place in my heart. His next words were directed at the group. “If anyone has a problem with that…” He didn’t need to finish the sentence. Everyone in our school—heck, everyone in the city of Mesa—knew how protective Lucas was of me. “I got you,” were his final words before I worked up the nerve to spin.

I held my breath and willed the laws of science to shift. They didn’t. That green-tinted bottle slowed and came to a stop just as Brad had planned, pointing directly at him. I gulped and lowered my chin, avoiding the devilish glare from our host.

A heavy breath escaped my lungs, a bout of dizziness passing as I gasped.

“Not going to happen.” I flicked my head up at the sound of my BND barking. He stood, taking me by my hand and pulling me up. “Not today. Not ever.” His words were directed at the circle.

Nine sets of shocked eyes looked up at us and one very pissed-off set belonging to Brad. “Hey, caveman, that’s not how the game’s played.” Brad hopped to his feet but kept his distance. “She sat in the circle; she knows the rules. Seven minutes in the closet.”

I could hear the threat in Brad’s tone. If we left, he’d blacklist us from every party and social function for the rest of the year. It was our senior year, and that meant a lot of parties.

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