Page 17 of Wanted You More

As we get closer to Cherry Cove, I point toward the exit and say, “You can just drop me off on Main Street at Queenie’s. Maybe you can still get to your date with Bailey. I’m sure she’d be happy to see you.”

He scoffs at the suggestion. “Don’t be dumb, I’m taking you home. Plus, Bailey understands.”

I doubt she does. “No woman likes being ditched for another girl, no matter the circumstances.”

From his profile, I see him grind down on his jaw. “I didn’t tell her I was getting you. I said I had something come up. And I doubt she would have cared anyway.”

Crossing my arms, I challenge him. “If you don’t think she would have cared, then why not just tell her the truth?”

He’s quiet.

“Exactly,” I murmur. “Drop me off at Queenie’s. None of this matters anyway.”

“What doesn’t matter?”

“This,” I reply. “Who you date and sleep with is none of my business, just like who I sleep with is none of yours. So, drop me off at Queenie’s. I’ll get Monty to pick me up and take me home later.”

His feet all but slam on the brake, making the car behind us honk and swerve from the sudden stop of his truck. “Monty?Please tell me you’re not sleeping with that stoner dick. You’re too young to be doing that anyway.”

I laugh dryly. “Oh please. I’m seventeen, Noah! How old were you when you started having sex?”

Discomfort has him shaking his head and squirming in his seat. “No way. We’re not talking about me. Monty Jefferson istwenty-years-old, Austen. How long has this been going on? Because a sexual relationship between the two of you is considered statutory rape if it started before your birthday.”

His throwing around the wordrapemakes me uncomfortable. Sitting straighter, I grip the spoon handle a little tighter than necessary. “You’d love being able to toss him in jail, wouldn’t you? Be careful, Noah. It’s almost as if—gasp! We’refriendswho want tolook out for each other. The horror.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“And you’re being an asshole,” I shoot back venomously. When we reach a stoplight, I unbuckle and throw the door open. “I’m out of here. Thanks so much for the ride.”

“Are you fucking crazy?” Noah calls out as I slam the door closed. He rolls the window down and yells out, “Get back inside the goddam truck, Austen!”

But I don’t. I turn around and say, “Go call Bailey and let her deal with your bullshit for the day. Because I don’t want to.”

I can hear him cuss, but I speed walk away and disappear in the crowd of people who are watching the messy departure. He needs to keep a clean reputation because of everything he has planned for the future.

But me?

I don’t have to.

FALL 2022

CHAPTER EIGHT

The loud schoolbell jerks me awake, causing me to nearly topple over in my seat. A few classmates snicker as they grab their things and file out of the room. I try blending in with them without being noticed, using my hair as a shield, but I flinch when I hear my name being called by Mr. Filch.

“Did you have a good nap?” he asks dryly with his back to me as he erases the board. “I apologize if my lesson disturbed you.”

Although I know it’s not smart to respond with a snarky reply, I can’t filter the words before they’re out. “Don’t worry, I can sleep through anything.”

He hums before turning toward his desk and writing something down. I know what the blue slip is before he hands it to me. “Well, try not to drool over your makeup homework in detention later. If you miss going again, that’s in-school suspension for three days.”

Dad won’t be happy. This is the third time this month I’ve gotten after-school detention, which means Wolfe will need to walk home or take the bus. My brother hates both.

Especially since the photos of me at the rally appeared online with some deceptive headlines that brought attention back to us. My brother was already pissed at me, but once those started circulating, it made things with us worse.

It didn’t matter how hurt I was by Lynly for deceiving me or how many times I tried explaining that I didn’t want to be there. My family, especially Dad, felt like I betrayed them anyway. I guess they expect these kinds of things from me at this point.

Taking the detention slip, I sigh and shove it into the pocket of my jeans before walking into the hallway. I see Marybelle by my locker when I make my way to our wing, watching her text who knows what guy she’s currently hooking up with. Last week it was Luke Miller, captain of the lacrosse team. A few weeks before that, it was Eddie Silvers, the drummer of some punk garage band who are borderline terrible and undoubtedly going to drop out of school soon to try making it.

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