Page 49 of I Hope This Doesn't Find
“You’re welcome, by the way,” he adds.
I stare. “Forwhat?”
“The dare at your party.” He grins. “Never imagined you and Julius would be so into it.”
“I wasn’t—” My voice comes out ten octaves too high, and I forcefully lower it back down as Ray’s grin widens. “I wasnot. And he most definitely wasn’t either.” Just the memory makes my face burn like it’s being pressed to a stove.I would rather die than kiss you again.“Forget it,” I decide, shaking my head free of all unwelcome thoughts. “I’ll just—I’ll run the races by myself.”
“Well, you better go soon,” he says, stepping right into the shade. “I think the relay’s starting now.”
•••
I’m cursing the world when I take my place beside Julius.
He looks unreasonably relaxed. Prepared. The sun dances over his hair as he stretches his limbs out and surveys the running track. Of course, if I hadhisteam, I would probably be relaxed too. He’s got Rosie, Jonathan, and a national athlete as his first three runners for the relay. They’re all known for being fast. I have Abigail, one of Rosie’s friends, and the guy who came in dead last in the one-hundred-meter sprint last year because he got tired halfway.
“How did you go with the sign-ups?” he asks, glancing over at me.
“Fine,” I say briskly, flexing my right leg, then my left. The race will be starting in two minutes.
“Well, I’ve filled up all the positions for my races,” he says. “It was hardly any trouble getting people to enter.”
“How nice that it worked out for you.”
He pretends to miss my sarcasm. “Aren’t you going to wish me good luck?” he asks. “Since we’re racing against each other and all.”
I bounce slightly on the balls of my feet to warm up, waiting for my nerves to morph into adrenaline. Since it’s the first race of the day, the relay is always the one everybody pays the most attention to. I need to focus. I need to win this. I need to beat him. “Are you going to wishmegood luck?”
He laughs. Literally, laughs in my face. “Now, why would I do that?”
In the distance, the teacher lifts the starting pistol. All the muscles in my body tense.
“In that case,” I say, staring straight ahead, “I hope you break your leg.”
“You’re very prickly today,” he comments, unfazed. “Is it because you couldn’t find anyone willing to run? Or is it because of your massive hangover?”
I stiffen, my focus breaking, and whirl around to face him. Luckily all the other runners are already in position, so there’s no one around to overhear.
“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how drunk you were,” he says, his gaze sharper, assessing.
“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really?” He cocks his head. “Nothing?”
“No.” I’m lying, sort of. The details from Saturday are fuzzy, but I remember the feeling growing inside me when it was just the two of us. Like there was a burning torch in my chest, heat buzzing through my veins, more potent than the liquor itself. I remember the wanting, the dangerous knife point of desire, the need to do something foolish and reckless with him. Now that I’m completely sober, it’s easy to dismiss it all as pure, physical attraction. It makes scientific sense. The alcohol would have helped me ignore the many defects of his personality, until all that was left was his geometrically pleasing features, his eyes and his lips and his hands. And from an evolutionary standpoint, isn’t it normal to want someone pretty, who happens to be your age, and who also just happens to be in your house? Isn’t it coded in our biology?
“Then why are you blushing?” Julius asks.
I twist my head away. “Stop it. I know what you’re doing.”
“What am I doing?”
The pistol goes off with a loud bang, and cheers rise from the stands.
It’s starting.
“Distracting me,” I reply through my teeth, willing myself to focus on the race. On Abigail. A few seconds in and she’s already falling behind Rosie.
“You wouldn’t think that if it wasn’t working,” Julius says, and I can hear the poisonous smile in his voice. “But do you really not recall any details?”
