Page 54 of This I Know
I toss my backpack into the truck. It lands with a thud. “Okay, I’ll go. Is Cole coming?” Not that I want to see the guy, but I kind of hope he is. Then I’ll know someone else there.
I’m talking to Julia. She’s standing next to my truck. It’s the end of the school day, and it doesn’t look like the day was hard on her – either that, or she’s just visited the bathroom to touch up. Because she looks flawless, as always.
I don’t bother to tell her that I’d already been invited to James’ party, and I’d already planned on going, with or without her. Although after Avery’s rejection a few hours ago, I’d seriously reconsidered going at all for the sake of my ego.
She shakes her head. “He’s busy.” She sighs. “Something with his family, I think. He might show up later, but if I know Cole, that probably won’t happen.” She smiles, shifting her weight between legs. “So it looks like it’ll just be me and you.”
I turn from my truck, one hand on the door. “Oh yeah?”
“So to speak.” She tucks her chin down and twists her body back and forth.
Great. Word games. Just what I need right now.
“So what time you going to pick me up?”
Picking her up is news to me. Anything else she wants to volunteer me for?
She senses my confusion. “Oh, please? My dad’s out of town and he took my car.”
She doesn’t have a car. I know this; she means her dad tookhiscar that he usuallyletsher use. I manage to get one leg inside my truck without her clawing at me to stay. “Does nine work?”
“Better make it eight.”
I nod and finish loading myself in. I shut the door and say to her through the open window, “I’ll be there.” I crank the ignition.
The rev of the engine startles her. She touches her chest and then plays it off, suddenly fiddling with the chain of her necklace. As the truck continues to roar, she resumes her smile and says, “I’ll see you then.”
I pull up to Julia’s house at half past eight. I know – I’m late. I don’t care.
I don’t know why I’m doing this. Picking her up to take her to a party is not the way to ensure she (and anyone else) doesn’t get the wrong impression about us.
Her house isn’t far from mine, so the drive is quick, but I still took my time getting ready. Eight-thirty is later than I’d aimed for, but that’s how it turned out, and I don’t care. If anything, it’ll bode well for my goal of coming off as nonchalant.
I shove the truck in park and lean over the steering wheel. This place is huge. It’s a large brick house with a four-car garage and a long, curling driveway. On the front of the house there’s a wrap-around porch, and a big, expensive-looking stainless steel grill that I was admiring my entire drive up.
No one who goes to our school has a house like this. It’s so out of place. Am I sure I have the right address?
I grab my phone from the passenger seat. I flick through it, double-checking the house number she sent to me in a text.One eighty-two Washington.Yep, this is it.
As soon as I step out, she’s there. She hops through her front door, as quickly and bubbly as she can in her high heels. And they are high. Their height elevatesher so much that I get the impression ofadifferent person altogether. I don’t like that.
She’s wearing a short, hot pink skirt to go with those heels, and its length barely reaches the tops of her thighs. Her black tank top is equally tight, and she’s has on that same skinny chain necklace that falls into invisibility under the center of her shirt, between her cleavage.
“Ethan,” she cries. She hugs me.
I respond with one arm around her back, then I jingle my keys and pull the handle of the driver’s side. And yes, Julia. I am purposefully making it a point to not open your door.
I mean, I would. Really. I get that it’s the right thing to do, and I’m being a bit of a jerk right now. But with the way things are between us, and considering where we’re headed, I’d rather play it safe.
She climbs up without a problem, holding one hand onto the hem of her skirt to keep it down.
I crank the engine.
“This’ll be fun,” she says, resting her purse on her lap. “But I wanted to pregame. That’s why I wanted you here at eight.”
“Sorry.” Of course, I’m really not. I try to ignore what she just said; I’m not big on being called out for letting people down. Maybe if I gloss over it, I can get through the rest of this night without feeling too bad. But pregamed? Really, Julia? We’re not even in college yet, but I already know enough to know that kind of thing isn’t my style.
None of this is my style. I shouldn’t be doing this. This isn’t right, this isn’t me. I should be at home, planning something sweet to do for Avery, because I haven’t given up on her yet.
