I’m angry at Renner, but I can’t help but think about what Adult Renner said in that alleyway. How I need to have more moments like this where I’m not stressing. Where I’m just living in the now.
I extend my hand out the window, feeling the wind against my palm. The faint smell of KFC from a couple streets over. The navy sky. I take it all in, cementing it in my memory. I just wish this weren’t so fleeting.
I don’t want to stress about Senior Week events, or prom, or being valedictorian, or everything that comes with packing up my life in Maplewood. And I definitely don’t want to think about my journey into the future.
“So what happened with J. T.?” she finally asks as we pull back into the school parking lot.
I blink, like I’ve been caught in some sort of twisted lie.
“I know you guys went to the roof. He seemed upset when he came back into the gym. Told me you’d left and that I should go after you,” she explains.
“He told you to come after me?” I repeat.
She nods.
Would Kassie have left the sleepover if Renner hadn’t asked her to? I shove that thought aside and focus on the current situation. Based on her casual, curious tone, I know Renner didn’t tell her we kissed. If he had, she’d be unable to keep her cool. And she certainly wouldn’t have been able to resist confronting me for so long.
I sigh, mourning the comfortable silence. I can’t not tell her. But I also can’t tell her about the chain of events that led to kissing Renner. First, she’s not Nori. She’d think I’m a total weirdo. And second, she has a big mouth.
She waits as I gather my thoughts.
“A bunch of things,” I say vaguely, choosing my words carefully. I want to sidestep the truth without blatantly lying.
She shoots me a knowing look, drumming her nails on the console between us. “Ugh. I know I’m beating a dead horse here, but you’ve really gotta stop letting him ruin everything for you. First prom, now the sleepover—”
If only it were as simple as kiboshing my prom theme idea or something equally petty. If only a complete delusion hadn’t created such a longing, and a void, a feeling that was never there before.
“It wasn’t like our normal fights,” I say. “We kissed,” I admit, because it’s the only thing that will partially make her understand.
Her eyes widen like pancakes. “Wait, what? You kissed J. T.? J. T. Renner?” she whispers, enunciating kissed slowly, like she’s speaking a foreign language. I hide my face in my hands before she whacks me on the shoulder. “Tell. Me. Everything! Right now!”
“I don’t even know how it happened,” I blurt. It’s a partial lie. I know where the feelings come from and I know why I kissed him. The question is, Why the hell did he kiss me?
She flicks me in the arm, something she does when she doesn’t find my responses adequate.
“Renner came into the stairwell to check on me after our . . . fight.” I look away. Kassie and I still haven’t addressed it. Strangely, this is easier to talk about. “Somehow, we ended up on the rooftop for some air. And it just happened,” I say with a shrug.
She blinks, not buying it. “You didn’t just go from being on a rooftop with someone you hate to making out. I know you. You’d rather have pushed him off the edge than let his lips touch yours.”
I snort, cheeks burning. “He used his magical Renner charm, I guess. I was stressed over setting things up, spiraling . . . thinking you hated me,” I add cautiously.
She gives me a knowing look. “I obviously didn’t hate you. But go on.”
“Anyway, he was being weirdly sweet. Uncharacteristically understanding.”
“Char, J. T.’s a nice guy. He’s always been this person, if you’d have just let him.”
My lips tighten at the memory of what happened after the kiss. Does a nice person really tell someone they have feelings for them when they’re already going to prom with someone else? Doubtful. And to be honest, that’s the version of Renner that’s more palatable. The one that feels more comfortable, because it’s all I’ve known. Until recently, at least.
“Well, he’s not,” I tell her. “It was just another one of his stupid mind games.”
“Mind games? Why would you think that?”
“Because I asked him to prom,” I admit.
She lurches forward, pressing the inside of her wrist to my forehead to check my temperature. “Are you ill?”
“I asked myself that same question,” I say.