The game was a great distraction. It was easy to get caught up in the cheers, which were surprisingly easy to learn. And Kennedy filled me in about some things I didn’t know about the game, like being offsides. Starting too soon…maybe that’s what I’d done with Matt. I started something with him too soon after I lost my mom. I needed more time to heal. That’s why my heart was so confused. Because it was still broken.
“Check this one out,” Kennedy said and showed me the display on her camera. It was an image of Matt thrusting.
I couldn’t help but laugh. It was ridiculous. The smile on Matt’s face was contagious and my cheeks hurt from all the pictures she kept showing me. But I could feel Miller’s eyes on me in the rearview mirror. And the awkward tension in the air seemed to grow with each laugh.
Miller had been so professional since walking us down the stands. Not one personal comment even though the three of us had talked the whole car ride to the game. I knew Kennedy felt the awkwardness too. But she was trying to drown it out with funny pictures. It was homecoming. We were supposed to be laughing and having fun. The twisted feeling in my stomach seemed like all I ever felt anymore. And I was so tired of it.
“I’m really sorry, Miller,” I said. “That was so awkward. Can we just pretend that didn’t happen?”
He let his eyes travel to the rearview mirror for a second before looking back at the road. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. Consider it forgotten if that’s what you want.”
“Are you planning on serenading Brooklyn now?” Kennedy asked. “To level the playing field?”
“Brooklyn knows how I feel,” he said and hit the turn signal.
I absolutely did not know how he felt. Most nights when he held me he’d just let me talk about my awful day. He was really good at listening. Not so much at sharing. He was literally my shoulder to cry on. And I hadn’t been very good at returning the favor. If I really thought about it, I barely knew him at all. How had that happened? I was pretty sure he knew everything about me.
“And how do you feel, Miller?” Kennedy asked, as if she could read my mind.
“Right this second?” He focused on the road. “I feel like my patience is wearing thin.”
Kennedy laughed.
I didn’t. It had to have been hard to watch Matt sing to me.
“I really think a grand romantic gesture would do you well after that performance,” Kennedy said. “Maybe you could choreograph a dance with the other security guards! That would be so much fun.”
“Actually bothering to show up is the best gesture,” Miller said.
I jumped in, hoping to end the awkwardness. “Agreed.”
“Sick burn on Matt,” Kennedy said.
I saw a hint of a smile on Miller’s face at my agreement. He was right. Matt dancing was wonderfully public and hilarious. But it didn’t really change anything. He had still slept with his best friend’s girlfriend. And yes, he still tried to call and text me, but he stopped showing up to school. He stopped showing up for me. He’d never shown up for me before that either. I was a dirty little secret, despite what he sang. Miller, on the other hand, was always there. He was solid like a rock. Literally. I stared at the way his muscles bulged beneath his suit jacket. He’d never let anything bad ever happen to me again. All Matt did was make bad things happen to me, sprinkled with moments that tricked my mind into forgetting. But I wasn’t an idiot.
“Well, if you can really sneak me into the Pruitt’s apartment, that’s a pretty grand gesture all by itself,” Kennedy said. “This is going to be so much fun.” She elbowed me in the ribcage.
This really was going to be fun. I took a deep breath. Tonight was going to be the best night ever.
***
Sneaking in turned out to not be hard. At all. Despite the traffic, we’d beaten Mr. and Mrs. Pruitt back in record time. All we had to do now was get safely to my room. Sneaking back out would be harder, but we’d deal with that little hiccup later.
I tried to pull Kennedy through the foyer but her feet had frozen in place.
“This place is…” her voice trailed off as she turned in a circle.
“Cold? Over the top? Massive? Vulgar?”
She laughed. “No. It’s…haunting,” she finally said as she eyed a portrait of the Pruitt family above a vase Mrs. Pruitt hadn’t gotten a chance to smash yet.
Her words sent a chill down my spine. Or maybe it was just the dead look in Isabella’s eyes when they were so blown up. Or maybe it was because it felt like someone was watching me.