Page 21 of Hot Girl Summer

“If nothing happened, why did you hide it from me? You can’t keep your hands to yourself, can you?” April says.

“I didn’t hide it from you. I just didn’t tell you because it’s a non-issue.”

“Right. I’m welcome to him now because you fucked him last night. That’s why you seem so happy this morning.”

Storm April grabs her keys and water bottle, and makes a beeline towards the exit.

“April, that’s not even,” I shout.

In haste, I grab my belongings, then rush to follow her out of the exit, through the coffee shop, past the stairs leading to the racket sports and out of the sliding doors by the reception.

“April, can you stop? Please.”

An elderly couple armed with tennis rackets walk by and watch the exchange with open mouths. I struggle to keep up as April power walks to her car, almost pulling the handle off its hinges when she opens the door.

“Can we talk about this?” I ask, breathless.

“I can’t believe you would bare faced lie to me like that. I—” April leaves the rest of the sentence hanging in the air as she climbs in and turns on the engine. “Stefan can take you home.”

She slams the door closed, and within moments, she’s gone.

Exasperated and defeated, I start towards the entrance of the building, where Danny stands sporting the most infuriating Cheshire cat smile. He’s the last person I want to see.

“Can I get you some popcorn? Or a camera, perhaps?” I ask, shouldering past him.

“Actually, I thought you could use a ride.”

I pause, exhale, and turn to face him.

“That was your lift, right?”

“I’m not in the mood for games.”

He raises his hands in defence. “I’m not playing one, I swear.”

“Then why are you being nice to me?”

“Because despite your opinion of me, I’m a nice guy. And honestly, I’m not buying into this persona you have going on. I know a defence mechanism when I see one.”

His final sentence strikes a nerve, and it’s enough to almost reduce me to tears, but I blink them back. I hate how I’m seemingly so transparent to him, when I can usually fool everybody, even my parents. All I know is that I don’t deserve his kindness right now, but I’m too tired to argue.

“I’m sorry. You’re right.”

“It’s cool, I don’t offend very easily. But I wouldn’t mind hearing that last part again.”

I manage a small smile. “Don’t push it.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you,” he says, flashing those two perfect dimples.

“I said you’re right. And I’d love a ride home, just don’t kidnap me, okay?”

He laughs. “You’re too much trouble,” he says, sobering when his eyes land on my face.

I curse my heart for its involuntary backflip, telling myself to get a grip, it’s only a ride home.

He leads the way through the car park, to flashing headlights of a grey metallic sports car.

“Ofcoursethis is what you drive,” I say, attempting to sound unimpressed.

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