Page 70 of Wanted You More

His lips pressed together.

He never hugged me back.

He’s probably afraid I’ll make another move on him like the last time he drove me home.

This time, when I reach for the truck door, I open it. “Thank you for always having my back, but I promise I’ll be good. I’ve got people looking out for me here.”

I slide out and face him, forcing a wide smile as if his thick silence doesn’t intimidate me. “Good night, Noah. Thanks for the ride.”

When I see my roommate, I use it as an escape from any drawn-out goodbye from the boy still staring at me like he wants to say something.

I wave him off, slam the door, and jog over to Kennedy. She looks from me to the maroon Ford still parked by the curb, studying the driver.

“Um, who’s the hottie behind the wheel?”

We walk up the steps leading to the front entrance and scan our cards to get in. “That,” I tell her with a sigh, peaking over my shoulder to see Noah pulling away, “is Noah Kingsley.”

Her eyes widen, but not as much as her lips do. “Girl, I totally get it now.”

I try not losing my smile.

She bumps our shoulders together before offering me one of the sour candies she’s snacking on. I know her top desk drawer has at least three boxes of these things inside because I raided them last week when my period started. “I don’t know the scoop between you two, but there was no mistaking how he was looking at you like he just lost his puppy.”

I’m sure she means well, but I don’t think I want to entertain what it could mean if Noah is pining for me. “He had to get back to his girlfriend, Kennedy. Trust me, whatever you saw wasn’t anything beyond a guy giving a girl a lift home.”

That truth hurts way more than I want it to, and not even I sound like I believe it.

FALL 2023

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

My hands brushover the skimpy two-piece outfit clinging to my skin, flattening out the little wrinkles in the skirt and readjusting the crop top to make my boobs look bigger. “What do you think, Ken? Fishnets or no fishnets? I think they may be too distracting.”

Kennedy stops straightening her hair to examine my costume. “You’re going to freeze to death in that. It got cold out.”

“That’s part of Halloween tradition,” I tell her, grinning. “I’m going without the fishnets, and I’ll pair it with some knee-high boots to cover part of my legs. Happy?”

She shrugs, her eyes going to my exposed shoulder where my marred skin is. “How did you get the scar on your shoulder?”

We haven’t discussed much about our pasts beyond boys, and I held some of that back because I didn’t want her to judge me. But I guess the truth is bound to come out eventually, especially because I consider Kennedy my friend.

I grab the first aid kit with a red cross on the front that the costume came with and turn to her. “You really don’t know?”

There’s momentary hesitation that tells me she knowssomething. “The housing department said something, but I’d rather hear it from you. Only if you want to tell me. I get it if you don’t want to talk about it.”

Yet, she’s asking. It isn’t like I’ve hidden my shoulder, especially when school first started. It was too hot to cover it up with shirts or makeup, so I let the ugly wound show.

I readjust the EMT costume I bought online and toss the little red cross bag onto my mattress. “I was shot when I was eight. You probably heard of the Shakespeare Park shooting. I was there. My mom…”

Kennedy gets eerily quiet, like she knew it was coming but still can’t grapple with it.

Well, same. “My mom died. There were eleven other casualties. I’ve been harassed my whole life about that night because my family is the only one of the victims who chose not to speak about it. Everybody else wanted to make a quick buck off the story or gain fifteen minutes of fame from it. How fucked is that?”

My roommate slowly shakes her head. “I can’t imagine, Austen. I’m so sorry you went through that.”

I touch the spot on my shoulder, feeling the difference in skin texture. Clearing my throat, I gesture toward the bag on my bed. “Noah’s dad is who found me. He was a cop. That’s how I got tied to their family. Noah is five years older than me, but we grew up together because his dad always checked in. Now he’s an EMT.”

She’s pried for information on Noah since she saw him drop me off last month, but I hadn’t offered more than the same basic facts I’d already told her: that we’re friends, that he’s dating somebody, and that he’s busy with work and school.

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