Page 23 of The Publicity Stunt
April pulls her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. The baggy sleeves of her sweatshirt brush past her feet. “Thank you for that.”
Practice, I remind myself.
“Yeah, of course. Glad to be of service.” I cringe at my words and look at something arbitrary in the distance. Did I do something wrong? Was I a bad kisser? Fuck.
“So you’re really not coming to the dance?” she asks.
My eyes dart back to her. “Not my thing.”
April nods and rests her chin on her knee, looking at me. And now I can’t look away. “Well, if you change your mind.”
I lean my weight back and force a smile. She nods and looks away. And I just sit there, looking at her. Trying to figure out what the hell just happened.
* * *
It’s been a week since April and I kissed.
And while things haven’t gotten weird between us, they haven’t been great either. We’re still friends, she still comes over, we still talk about comic books and superheroes. Absolutely nothing has changed. Shoving a fistful of popcorn in my mouth, I throw my head back against the couch and groan.
Ghost Rider’s on TV, but I really don’t give a shit right now. Not when April’s at the dance with Tyler Hockman. It’s eight p.m. The dance started at six. Which means they’re probably making out near the fucking lockers by now. The mere thought is giving me a rash.
Fuck Tyler Hockman.
I want to kill Tyler Hockman.
I sit up straight, and the bowl of popcorn wobbles on my thigh. My doorbell rings. Great. I wait for my mom to get it but it rings again. Begrudgingly getting up from the couch, I set the popcorn aside and walk toward the door. Another ring.
“Coming!” Jesus. I reach for the doorknob and pull it open.
“Hi,” April says.
Not sure whom I was expecting, but it sure as hell wasn’t her. “What are you …” My eyes travel down to her outfit. Her red hair is pushed to the side in a braid and her dress—it’s so blue. Like the ocean. God, she looks beautiful. Wait, why is she here?
I clear my throat and revert my attention to her face. “April, why are you—”
“Tyler stood me up,” she blurts. “I waited and waited and he never showed.”
I clock the crusted streaks across her cheek. She’s been crying. My whole chest clenches.
“April …”
She looks away. I step in front and take her hand in mine. “High school dances are so overrated.”
She gives me the most unconvincing smile possible, and my heart cracks right through the middle. I tug on her hand. “Do you wanna watchGhost Riderwith me? I made way, way too much popcorn.”
“Okay,” she mutters.
I hate how sad that “okay” sounds.
What better thing does Tyler Hockman have going on in his life that he couldn’t, at the very least, let her know he won’t be coming tonight? A text, a call. That’s all it takes. Fucking asshole.
“Hey.” I tug on her hand again. “Wait here for me?”
“Why?”
“I’ll be down in a few seconds.” Without waiting for a response, I run upstairs to my room and grab my iPod from under my pillow, along with the hoodie hanging off my chair. I rush back downstairs and see Mom standing next to the door with April.
“Hayden, what are you—”
