Page 55 of The Publicity Stunt
“What does it matter?” she asks. “We’ve just hooked up a few times. He doesn’t need to know me, just like I don’t need to know him.”
God, she’s so fucking annoying at times. Especially when she’s right. “April, if that’s what you want, then great. If that’s what makes you happy, then who am I to say anything? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna head back to my dorm—”
A distant noise interrupts me. Both of us look up. With a low rumble of thunder and a quiet tap-tap-tapping, it starts to rain.
Shit.
The rain gets more intense and water drips down my hair. I grab her hand to take her inside, but she pulls me back.
“You’re gonna get sick, Chere.” I tug on her fingers but the girl doesn’t budge. Instead, she steps closer and threads our fingers together. I don’t understand any of this. She hates the rain.
“I don’t like fighting with you,” April says.
With my free hand I pull her into a half hug. “We’re not fighting. I’m just being an asshole. I’m sorry.”
“No, but we are.” She glances up at me. “It took a fight and a rainstorm and some guy in a football jacket for you to call me Chere again.”
I frown. “What do you mean? I call you Chere all the time.”
“Nuh-uh.” She shakes her head. “It’s been three months.”
My frown deepens. Really? I honestly haven’t realized. But then again, April and I haven’t quite been around each other these past few months. I press my nose against the top of her head and whisper an apology.
The rain gets heavier. Even if we did go inside, there’d be no point now. We’re drenched from head to toe.
What is this? What are we? Sometimes we’re just friends, and sometimes we’re more. One minute she’s asking me to kiss her, and the next minute she’s off with another guy, wrapped in his arms, slow dancing to our song. Like I mean nothing to her. I’m so confused.I just want to know what you want.
“I don’t know,” April whispers and I realize I just said that last sentence out loud.
Ah, fuck me.
I pull back and she looks up. The white strands of her wig cling to the side of her neck, and the wet spandex clings to her curves. Her next words are barely audible against the furious tapping of the rain. “But what I wanted was you.”
My heart flutters. Then stalls. Then flutters again.
What?
My confused gaze zeroes in on her face. “What did you just say?”
Her mouth opens and closes, and she looks away.
There are a billion thoughts running through my brain. “Don’t.” I step back. “Don’t say things you don’t mean. I’m not tough when it comes to you, April. Please don’t say that again.”
“And what if I do mean it?”
“No, you keep doing this …” My voice trails off. “Asking me to kiss you, then pushing me away, and now this—”
“Pushing you away?” April tightens her grip around my fingers. “I never pushed you away.” The hurt in her voice cuts into me like a knife. “I asked you to kiss me.”
“Yeah, for practice.”
For a moment, nothing happens, and after a beat, her eyes bug out and she shoves me in the chest again. “What kind of a moron are you?”
A confused one?
“I asked you to kiss me because I wanted you, you jackass!”
A few more seconds pass and I don’t say anything.
