Page 24 of More Than Chemical
My jaw stiffened. “Jay is not my boyfriend.”
“I know. I know.” He made a tear in his napkin. “I’m just guessing your type is not someone who has thirty one-night stands in less than five months.”
“My type has less to do with whether a person sleeps around and more to do with me not wanting to be with someone who everyone gossips about.”
He tapped the lid on his coffee. “So what you’re saying is you don’t like to be the center of attention.”
If he only knew what last year had been like for me, then he’d understand. First, it had just been school—dealing with the stares, the ridicule, the whispering behind my back. Then it had been the reporters showing up at our front door wanting to hold interviews, the evil glares at our local grocery store, my dad’s pictures and mug shots plastered across the evening news. And the hatred. Hatred from an entire metropolitan area. No, worse than that—hatred from an entire society.
“You got it,” I said.
He took a drink and leaned back in his chair. “I think I might know where that rumor started.”
“You do?”
“There’s a girl in our dorm?—”
“A girl you’ve slept with?” I lifted an eyebrow.
He smiled again but didn’t answer my question. “I did something she didn’t like, and we had a falling out. It doesn’t surprise me that she’d make up a story to get back at me.”
“What did you do?”
“Do you really want to know?”
I sighed. That was a good question. Did I, or didn’t I?
If I didn’t want people to know the embarrassing details about myself, I shouldn’t want to know his.
“No.” I shook my head.
He took another swig of coffee. “So what are you doing tonight?”
“Nothing definite.”
“I’m meeting some high school friends down at Sporty’s. Do you want to come with me?”
He had friends. This was number four on my list. And he was asking me to meet them.
I shrugged. “I don’t have a fake ID.”
“I know the bouncer. I can get you in.”
I rested my chin on my hand. I thought if I met Dallas here and talked with him, I’d know what to do about him. But I didn’t. I was still confused.
“I’m not sure if it’s such a great idea.”
“Come on. It’ll be fun. There’s a pool table, and we can get something to eat.”
I wanted to go. I did. But I’d told myself I was done with lying to my friends, and going with him would mean doing more of it.
His gaze searched mine.
I supposed I could just wait until tomorrow to start telling the truth. Today was still my day. I deserved this.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll go for a bit.”
Ten
