Kiss Crush Collide by Christina Meredith Page B

one elbow.
    “Shane called,” she says.
    Digging to the bottom of my bag, I find and check my phone. Two texts. That’s Dani and Len, for sure. And four missed calls. Shit.
    “The house, too?” I ask.
    Freddie looks over at Yorke for confirmation.
    “Yep.” She nods.
    She gives me another look before she rolls onto her back and crosses one long leg over the other, her foot bouncing impatiently as she picks up her book.
    Yorke sighs and piles her hair on the top of her head in a sloppy twist.
    “In case you are wondering,” she says, sounding very put out as she crosses her arms and snuggles the tiny T-shirt tight against her just as tiny chest, “I told Shane you were out with the girls.”
    Girls? What girls? Truth be told, I don’t really have that many friends, and my sisters know it. Just Dani and Len. For the past couple of years it’s been Dani on my left and Len on my right, a descending line in order of height, in AP classes, pep practice, and at lunch. Even in the hallways. You’d think I would miss them, considering that they are gone for the summer, but I haven’t considered them much at all.
    My sisters’ eyes flick over at me, presuming and slightly eager, watching my face. They are ready to hear my story, my excuse for disappearing for a couple of hours, ignoring my phone and my family and my boyfriend.
    I know what they want. They want me to tell them everything, the way I always have, so they can compare and contrast my actual behavior with what it should have been, what it always has been. I take a deep breath and prepare to have my brain picked clean.
    I exhale and say nothing. I am not ready to have every detail of tonight exposed and examined and faded. Or bleached like bones in the sun. I walk away, leaving them waiting, knitted together in the pink glow of Freddie’s room. I know I will pay for this escape later. But for now all I want is to keep this part of my life mine.
    “You’re welcome,” Yorke yells, all peeved and huffy, as I disappear down the dark hall.
    I open the window over my bed, welcoming the damp smell of summer into my over-air-conditioned room as I climb into bed. I don’t bother to listen to my messages. Or even take off my bathing suit. I pull my duvet up over my head and slip off into sleep.

Chapter Six

    The park is steamy and silent, the grass along the side of the road still sleeping under a thick blanket of dew. The solid plank picnic tables and industrial green picnic shelters are slick with condensation that will dry as the sun creeps up.
    An engine rumbles at my heels, the sound of loose pea gravel under heavy tires popping in my ears as my interest in my feet and their ability to take one step in front of the other becomes unprecedented.
    How stupid am I to think that he would show up every day? Any day? I’m sure he’s got other stuff to do, girls to see, cars to drive. Whatever it is that he does with his life that I don’t know about. Like everything.
    But how do I get my heart to stop skipping a beat whenever I hear a car coming my way? I don’t know. All I know is after almost a week I feel as if I am slowly rolling backward, like there will be no more surprises in my life, ever. I know the next move I am supposed to make, and the next and the next.
    Just follow Yorke and Freddie, pass go, and collect my two hundred dollars. But what I really want to do is turn that little silver car around and squeal away, running over the shoe and the Scottie dog and knocking over the tiny plastic hotels and houses as I go.
    I take a couple of slow staring-at-the-ground steps, switching my bag from one shoulder to the other with the tiniest flick of my head, catching only the polished chrome of a bumper out of the corner of my eye.
    Keeping my head down, I pretend I am walking across a low balance beam just like I did in kindergarten—heel to toe, heel to toe. But God, I already know it’s him. I knew it as soon as I felt the engine rumbling down the street,