Losing Me, Finding You by C.M. Stunich Page B

the gentle ache between my legs hurts more. “What's up?”
    “We're going into town to shop for shoes,” I say, pausing as Christy's mom appears on the back deck, squinting her green eyes at me like she wishes I would disintegrate right there on the lawn. Then again, she probably wouldn't want to harm the perfect sea of green, so maybe she's just wishing I would drop dead and go to hell. Yes, I think. That sounds a bit more like Mrs. Hall's style.
    “Sneaking around other people's backyards, Miss Cross? What would your mother say?” I suspect that she already knows what my mother would say because I'm certain that they've just spoken to one another over the phone. Mrs. Hall snorts and shakes her head like I am so ridiculously unbelievable. She tried to ban me from hanging out with Christy once because I put black eyeliner on at school and she saw me, calling me a Satan worshiper. Today, she has a similar facial expression. “But you both are in desperate need of new shoes, and I am not about to go down to that … that festival. ” She spits the word out like it's poison and lets it sizzle in the warm, morning air. “So go, but don't dawdle.” Already, Christy is disappearing from her window, and I know that she's halfway down the stairs. Mrs. Hall smooths her hand over her blonde hair and touches her bun, just to make sure it's still in perfect order, before turning away and fading into the darkness of her house, slamming the back door in my face.
    I move back through the yard and wait on the front porch for Christy, smiling as she emerges dressed in an outfit that's nearly identical to mine. Pale blue sweater, white camisole, floral print skirt.
    “Please tell me that you've come up with something?” she asks unlocking the doors to her car and opening the passenger side for me. “And that we're not really shopping for shoes.”
    “Get in,” I tell her, wondering exactly what it is that I'm going to say. She movies hurriedly around the front of the car and gets inside, immediately bursting into a surprise shower of tears. I see her mother watching through the window and pat her arm lamely. “Come on,” I tell her, lowering my voice to a whisper. Is it just me or did I see the upstairs curtains move at my house, too? “I have something exciting to tell you.” Christy sniffles and nods, ignoring the rush of salty wetness that's pouring down her face, and starts the little, blue car with a turn of the key.
    “It better be good,” she says, trying to smile through her sadness. I promise myself that I'll hug her as soon as we get into town. “Because I had the worst night of my life last night.” She doesn't elaborate, and I don't ask. If she wants to tell me more, she will, but if she doesn't, I'm not going to press her. This is how we've always been and how I hope we'll always be – easy, honest, truthful. Well, for the most part anyway. I still don't think I can tell her that I'm not a virgin anymore. We've both been for so long that it just seems like that's the way things should I be. I almost feel like I've betrayed her somehow, as stupid as that sounds. “Tell me.” I smile.
    “What do you think about motorcycles?” I ask her as we wind through the streets towards the center of town where the one and only shoe store is located. The next closest is about seventy miles away, at our nearest mall. Christy nibbles her lip and lifts one eyebrow suspiciously.
    “Why?”
    “How would you feel if we just … I don't know, hopped on one and left?” I imagine my arms sliding around Austin's thick body, tangling in the leather of his jacket while the wind stings my face and the hot eye of the sun looks down on us with envy. I shiver. That's a romanticized view to be sure, but I can't help to entertain it. Everybody needs a little fantasy in their life; why do you think romance novels are so darn popular?
    “Spill,” Christy says, looking both terrified and excited at the same time. “Did you buy us