Page 20

Chapter Twenty

A couple of weeks go by and I’m getting used to my new lifestyle of reading and volunteering and having less time with friends. It all makes me value the time we do spend together that much more. Tonight, Bek and I are meeting Ava and Dylan at Philly’s for dinner. Philly’s is a restaurant owned by the parents of some Oak Grove High students. They made a separate teen hang-out room at the back of their restaurant that a lot of students are happy to hang out in. Ava, Bek, and I used to come at least every Saturday night, but haven’t done so all summer.

I spy Ava and Dylan seated at the end of a long table and give them a thumbs-up as we wind our way through the throngs of fellow students. We wave at a few kids and call out greetings to others. It’s funny how it feels like we haven’t seen everyone for so long when it hasn’t even been two months since school got out. And knowing that we only have a month of summer left makes me both sad for the loss of my lazy summer days and excited for our senior year.

“How did you snag such a great spot?” I ask, as we settle into our chairs .

“Oh, there were kids here when we got here, but I scowled at them and they scrammed,” Dylan says.

I gawk at him. He has a reputation for being a tough guy, but he isn’t the type to actually intimidate anyone. “Really?”

Ava rolls her eyes. “They were done and left. We snatched the seats as soon as they got up.”

Bek and I both laugh, and I wad up a napkin to throw at Dylan. He bats it away, chuckling.

Ava leans forward. “Sam, you are never going to guess what happened.”

I cock my head and take in her excited posture. “Disney on Ice is coming to town?”

Ava’s eyes widen. “I wish! But no.”

“I give up. What?”

Our conversation pauses when the server shows up with a notepad. We each give our orders, and I give her a significant look that she knows means I get the check for all of us. Dylan is very difficult to pay for, so I’ve had to resort to trickery. As soon as the server leaves, Ava’s gaze sweeps the kids nearest us to see if anyone is listening and leans forward again.

“Brent Post texted me asking if you were okay.”

A thrill shoots down my spine and I straighten. “Really?”

Ava nods with a smirk on her face, like she knew he’d do it all along.

I haven’t even thought about him in more than a week, which is crazy in itself. “What did you tell him?”

“I totally played dumb at first and said, Sam? As in Samantha Jones? I wanted to pretend like I didn’t know anything about him.”

I snicker. “Quick thinking. Thanks.”

“Anyway, he explained that you had been stopping in the bookstore regularly for a while and that you stopped coming in and he just wanted to make sure nothing had happened to you. ”

I bite my lip and study my fork. “He noticed. That’s a good sign.”

“That’s a great sign,” Bek enthuses.

For some reason, the smile I give her feels shy and unsure, which is so not like me.

“So then,” Ava continues. “Playing off the idea that I don’t know anything, I told him I had no clue why you stopped going.” She stops and looks up at the ceiling. “Which I guess isn’t a lie. I hadn’t been aware you stopped. So, I suggested he ask you directly.”

I squint at the all-knowing look on her face. “But he doesn’t have my number.”

“That’s what he said.” Ava bobs her head like she’s listening to some cool music. “So, I gave it to him.”

My pulse speeds up, but then slams to a halt when I realize I haven’t gotten a text from him. “When was this?”

Ava’s still dancing to the music no one else can hear. “About five minutes before you walked in.”

And like she’d planned it, my phone vibrates on the table. We all look down at the lit-up screen and there is a text notification from a phone number I don’t recognize. The three of us squeal in unison, causing Dylan to lean away from the table. Seeing the fear in his eyes, we laugh.

“Was that bff telepathy or something?” he asks, looking dubious.

“Definitely ‘or something,’” I say, picking up my phone and swiping on the notification. I read the message aloud. “Hey Sam, it’s Brent. You haven’t been in lately. Just wanted to see if everything was okay.”

My thumbs hover over my phone as my brain composes a million possible replies, all of which sound stupid. “What should I say?”

Bek scoffs and rolls her eyes, while Ava shrugs.

“How should we know?” Ava asks. “You’re the one who knows how to talk to boys.”

I frown at my phone screen because her statement reminds me too much of my last conversation with Brent about me being experienced. He never clearly stated what he thought that meant, but with the blushing and the lack of eye contact, I’m guessing he thought it meant more than sitting across a table sharing a meal. Does he believe me when I say I’m not? Do I care if he doesn’t believe me? I close my eyes momentarily. I care.

I type a reply and send it quickly before I can second guess myself.

Sam: We’re at Philly’s tonight. You should come down.

Ava and Bek are practically sitting on the edge of their seats waiting to hear my reply. Dylan is sitting back in his seat, squinting at me like he knows something. Tilting my head, I ask him, “What do you think I said?”

He studies me a bit longer. “Something about your reaction tells me you avoided answering him.”

I raise my brows. “Point to Scott.”

Ava huffs. “I thought you liked him. Why are you avoiding him now?”

I sit on my hands and let my hair curtain my face. “I do like him, but he thinks I have all this experience and I’m…” I shrug. “Maybe too much for him. Or like all my experience will mean I expect more from him.”

Bek frowns. “That’s why you haven’t dated anyone this summer.”

I stare at the wadded-up napkin laying on the table in front of me. Heat washes through me and I know I’ve got to be pink with embarrassment. The part in my hair is probably glowing. But I nod.

“Want me to beat him up?” Dylan asks .

A grin breaks across my face and I meet his gaze. “No, that’s okay. But I appreciate your willingness to defend my honor.”

His nod tells me he’s genuine. He believes in my honor, and he stands alongside the girls who would flank me in any situation. I have to blink away tears just thinking about how much their solidarity means. I’ve never felt so uncertain about myself. This has been a very strange summer.

“And I’m not avoiding him. I told him we’re here and told him to come down.”

Ava’s eyes brighten with anticipation. “Oh, a friend date. That’s smart.”

Our meal is served, and as we eat and chat, I try not to let it bother me that Brent didn’t respond to my text. Maybe he couldn’t figure out what to say since I didn’t answer his question. Several people have stopped by to say hello and ask what we’ve been up to. Each time a boy alludes to having dinner together, I steer the conversation away. But each time, I die a little more inside. Am I imagining the spark of hunger in their eyes? It’s like another nail being pounded into my dating coffin with each boy who expects me to be an automatic date. At this rate, I’ll never be able to date again just so I can kill my reputation for being too available.

At one point, Bek takes my hand under the table and just holds it. She can see what’s going on in my head.

As my shame builds, I consider making an excuse and leaving, but the thought of doing that angers me. Why should I have to hide? I’ve done nothing wrong. Absolutely nothing. And even if I had, it isn’t anyone’s place to judge my behavior. Why am I the one being judged? Why am I heating with embarrassment? Wanting to hide? This is wrong.

Bek must sense something because she leans forward to get a look at my face. “Are you okay?”

Ava leans forward too. And Dylan arches a brow.

“No, I’m not.” My anger bubbles like a potion in a cauldron. “I am absolutely not okay.” I sit tall and look around. There are at least four boys staring dreamily at me as I scan the room, and that makes me even more mad.

I slam my hand on the table, making utensils rattle, getting the attention of many of the people in the room. I rise slowly out of my chair, feeling like lava boiling up out of a crater.

“Kirk,” I shout to a boy on the far side of the room. We dated a couple times during the school year. “What’s my favorite color?”

He reels backward like I slapped him.

“I don’t know.”

I shift my attention to another table. “Luke, what’s my favorite Mexican dish?”

“Uh,” Luke shakes his head. “Enchiladas?”

I roll my eyes. During our date, we had a full conversation about it being the complimentary chips and salsa you get at the beginning of your visit.

I turn and scan faces. Guys are starting to shift so they are hidden behind others. “Kenny, you’ll know this.”

Kenny’s terrified expression turns into a knowing smirk. “Shoot.”

“What’s my favorite sport?”

I see panic flash in his eyes, but then he nods. “Football.”

I snarl. He thinks that because he plays football. “Wrong.” We played horseshoes at the park on our date, and I told him that was my favorite sport. We argued if it was a sport or not.

“See what’s happening here?” I scan the room to make sure people are still listening. Especially the guys. “I’m sitting in this chair feeling like crap because I’m somehow getting the reputation for being easy. And guys are starting to think the term “easy” applies to me saying yes to more than going out with them. ”

There are murmurs in the room, and I don’t even care if they are with me or against me because I am so worked up, I couldn’t stop talking if my friends dragged me from the room. And based on the confused expressions on the boys’ faces throughout the room, things definitely need to be cleared up.

“But am I easy?” Wide eyes stare back at me. “Am I?” I shout.

When no one answers, I take a different tactic. “Raise your hand if you have gone on a date with me.” Maybe twenty hands go up. “Keep your hands in the air if you’ve gone on two dates with me.”

More than half the hands go down. The responding whispers are a little louder now.

“Now, keep your hand in the air if we have kissed.”

Nothing happens at first. I’m guessing because there are a lot of embellished stories out there that guys are about to be caught in. I arch a brow and finally, the hands start to fall. In the end, only one is still in the air. “Yes, Spencer. You were a gentleman. You walked me to the door at the end of both dates and then gave me a goodnight kiss on the second date. But in the end, we both knew there wasn’t any chemistry, didn’t we?”

He nods. “Yes, ma’am.”

I look around the room and it feels like I’m shooting lasers from my eyeballs at all the liars. “So, I will thank you all very much for correcting any stories you’ve circulated about what it’s like to date Samantha Jones.”

I dig my wallet out of my purse, take out a few bills, and throw them on the table. “Bek, you ready?”

She hops out of her seat. Ava and Dylan stand too, with Dylan taking point so he clears a path through the crowded restaurant. Ava and Bek flank me, and I make sure to hold my head high as I march out of the room.

I stumble when I find myself passing a shocked Brent who stands at the entrance of the room. From the expression on his face, I know he heard at least most of my performance.

Good. Let him stew in it.