“Thanks for the birthday wishes,” Simone called after them, before laughing gratefully and blowing a kiss at Deiss for getting rid of them.
I shook my head at Simone’s pinkened cheeks. If Deiss didn’t stop with his heroics, she was going to start following him around again for sure. He was usually more careful not to lead her on. But only last week he carried her all the way across campus after the Neon Party left her too drunk to walk on her own. She was beginning to gaze at him like her knight in somewhat tarnished armor.
“Your mom is okay, right?” I asked, partly to distract her and partly from concern.
“Oh, yeah,” Simone said breezily. “She’s never even had her breasts done. I just didn’t want them going back and riling the whole house up, telling them I blew them off to hang out with you guys again.”
“So, you gave them something better to gossip about?”
Simone tapped her finger to her nose. “Exactly.”
“Impressive,” Phoebe said. “I think it worked.”
“Hopefully,” Simone said. “But whatever. I’m not that worried about it. They’re sisters.”
“Meaning they have to love you?” I asked.
“Meaning they’re like family,” Simone said. “And you don’t choose your family. You only get to choose your friends.”
CHAPTER 21
Do you think Simone told Phoebe and Mac?” Deiss asks the question as I pull out, almost causing me to panic-crash into the car in front of me.
“What?” I grip the wheel with both hands, too nervous to look at him. Simone must have already texted him, probably addressing him sarcastically as Brendan Davis. I should’ve known she would. She was still so angry when she left. She tried to hide it, but everything about her was stretched tight, like a rubber band ready to snap.
Maybe this isn’t terrible, though. Deiss knows what I’ve done, but he still chose to come with me. Maybe he understands that I was trying to defend him. Maybe he wants to forgive me.
“She swore she wouldn’t,” I say, stopping the car and turning toward him. “But that doesn’t make it okay. I’m so sorry that I betrayed your trust, Deiss.”
Deiss chuckles wryly, reaching for a lock of my hair and fingering the end of it. “I’m pretty sure she figured out anything you might’ve told her the moment she saw you coming out of my bedroom, but I hate that you think I’m trying to keep you a secret, because I’m not. I’ll tell everyone myself right now if that’s what you want. I just don’t want them making us feel guilty.”
“Right,” I parrot idiotically. My mind races, circling the fact that he doesn’t know what I’ve done before returning gleefully to us. Simone laughed at me for using the same term, but it had come so naturally. This isn’t something that has happened overnight. Things have been shifting between us for weeks. I’ve just been too scared to acknowledge it.
“It would just be nice to have one day to enjoy this by ourselves without anyone ruining it, you know?” His hand leaves my hair and trails down my arm, making my skin tingle in its wake.
“I do know.” Unfortunately, what I know is that I’m the one who’s at the most danger of ruining it. But Deiss is right. Is it really so much to ask that we get one day to simply enjoy this, without the intrusion of the real world?
“We should turn off our phones,” I say impulsively, pushing down my guilt.
“Yeah?”
“Let’s leave it all behind for a day,” I say. “Just you and me, on the road again.”
* * *
—
Like my first day in South Africa, we roll the windows down and wind rushes through the car, making me feel like I’m flying. Unlike that road trip, we never get around to the questions in the small talk game. I’ve always assumed too much one-on-one time with someone would leave you with no words left to say. But with Deiss, the opposite proves true.
We chat about the shows we’ve watched and the crazy things Booker and Mia have said. But we also talk about the concert and how many people my flyers brought in. Deiss tells me he regrets serving alcohol to such a large crowd, mainly because there were too many strangers there, but also because he pulled in good revenue without having to resort to it. And I admit that I’m scared to create the flyers for the next band. If they don’t draw in as many people, I’ll know it wasn’t me but the band that brought the crowd.
LA’s buildings fall away, replaced by dry, rocky hills and, eventually, the crooked, jutting branches of Joshua trees. The sun burns brighter the farther we travel, and Deiss puts on a pair of sunglasses he finds in the glove compartment. Unsurprisingly, they look unreasonably good on him, and I make the decision to never wear them again. I can’t be on the wrong side of a who-wore-it-better contest. It’s unacceptable.