Page 40 of The Last to Let Go
I open my mouth to answer—nois my default setting—but I don’t know how I’m supposed to say no to her, especially when there’s a small part of me that can actually imagine myself being there with her—that is, if I were someone else entirely. “Thanks, but I really probably can’t make it, Dani.”
“Why not?” She lets go of my arm, but she’s not about to let me off the hook that easily.
“It’s just hard for me to get out. I have to take the bus, and it’s a long trip, and if I don’t time it exactly right, then I’m basically stranded, so...” I trail off, because when I look up and meet her eyes, I’m unable make the words come out. Not when she’s standing this close, with her eyes not letting me look away, her right arm brushing up against my left, activating this total-body power surge sequence that immobilizes my brain. She squints at me like I’m still speaking, like she’s still listening.
“Okay,” she begins. “Well, I have a car and I’d be more than happy to drive us. So, that problem’s solved. What’s the next one?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I get the feeling you have at least four or five more complications lined up.” She lowers her chin and raises her eyebrows at me. “And unless one of those complications is that you can’t stand me and you don’t want anything to do with me, then let’s save ourselves some breath, not to mention mental energy.” She stares at me, waiting for a response. “That’s not the real problem, is it?” she finally asks.
“No,” I tell her. “Of course not. That’s not it at all.”
“Okay, then. It’s settled! I’ll pick you up at eight.” She starts walking away before I can say anything else.
“I’ll try, all right?” My voice gets lost in the noise of the hall, so I’m not sure if she hears me, until she turns around.
From the other side of the hall she yells, “Something tells me if you really try, you’ll make it happen.”
“Do I have to dress up?” I call out.
“Nope,” she answers. She’s grinning now—she knows she has me. “Adorably frustrating!” she calls out as she rounds the corner.
“So, are you actually going to this homecoming thing?” Tyler whispers next to me in chem lab as the teacher writes out formulas for our experiment on the board at the front of the room.
“I don’t know, probably not.” I glance over at him for a second while I try to decipher the numbers and letters and symbols on the board.
“That’s not what Dani says.” He twists in his chair so that he’s facing me, not even pretending to pay attention.
“She doesn’t seem to want to take no for an answer.”
I can feel him staring at the side of my face. When I turn to look at him again, he’s narrowing his eyes at me.
“What?”
“Can I just ask you something, once and for all?” he whispers, leaning in.
I shrug. “I guess.”
He hesitates but then says, “Are you?”
“Am I... what?” I whisper back, keeping my eyes on the board.
He scowls, letting out this loud sigh that turns heads in our direction. “Are. You?”
“Am I what?” I repeat, getting annoyed that he’s distracting me from my notes.
“Shhh!” someone hisses from the front of the room.
“Oh man,” he breathes, pinching the bridge of his nose like his eyes hurt from staring at me so intently. “Okay. Iam,” he says pointedly, which finally makes me look up at him.
“You are...?”
“Oh my God,” he gasps. “Gay, Brooke. You knew that, right? Please tell me you’re notthatclueless.”
“Oh.” I look down at my notes, then back to the board, anywhere butathim. “Right. Yeah. I mean, I guess. I mean, I guess I didn’t really think about it,” I lie.
“So?” He nods slowly. “I’m asking, areyou?”
