Just You (8 page)

“Everyone’s in the theater,” Robin said.
“It’s a marathon, remember?”

“What are we supposed to do, walk into a
movie already in progress?”

“No, Devon told me they’d meet us by
the—there they are.”

Devon and Michael were walking toward us.
Robin skipped up to Devon and threw herself into his arms while I
stayed put, waiting for Michael to reach me. When he did, he
smiled, and my whole body turned to mush. “Hi,” he said, and I
caught a whiff of cinnamon again.

“Hi.” I was suddenly very conscious of my
boobs on display in Robin’s white shirt, now concealed under my
jacket. They’d stay concealed too, if at all possible. I did not
want anyone—especially Michael—to think I was trying too hard.

“Are you ready for some blood and gore?”
Devon asked as the four of us crossed the lobby.

“I’m ready for some Junior Mints,” Robin
said.

When Michael paid my way in, I knew this
really had to be a date, and my nervousness increased tenfold. The
end credits for another movie were rolling on screen as the four of
us found seats near the back. Robin pushed into the aisle first,
and I ended up with her on my left and Michael on my right. So
either way I was blocked from making a run for it. I scanned my
surroundings, but failed to spot any faces I recognized from the
Redwood Hills parties. It hit me then that this was a double date
and not a group thing at all. Dating in a group seemed a lot more
casual, but a double date was a bona fide
date
. My anxiety
shot straight through the roof.

Robin jostled my elbow. “Try my Coke,” she
whispered.

I took a sip from her straw and almost spit
it back out. It tasted like oven cleaner. “Is that diet?” She
laughed and told me it was coconut rum. “I didn’t know they sold
that
at the concession stand,” I said.

Michael nudged my other arm. “I didn’t see
you around last weekend,” he said.

“I was at home. I’m not at my dad’s every
weekend.”

“Oh, right. I think you told me that.” He
turned toward the blank screen in front of us, showing me his
striking profile for a moment before facing me again. “But if you
wanted to visit your dad every weekend, would you be able to do
that?”

“Oh, um…” I crossed my legs, and then
uncrossed them. The floor felt sticky under my feet. “It’s
possible, I guess. I can see him anytime I want.”

He smiled at me in that cute, unpretentious
way he had. “Good.”

I scrambled for some sort of reply, but was
saved by the next movie starting. The plot of this movie completely
escapes me because not a second of it soaked into my brain. For the
entire two hours, I struggled to make sense out of Michael’s
question while stealing sips of Robin’s spiked Coke. By the time
the movie ended, I felt both buzzed and confused as hell.

“That was gory,” Michael said as we all
exited the theater for a twenty minute intermission.

“Totally,” I said, even though I didn’t
remember any blood. Just a lot of screaming. Or maybe that was only
in my head.

Robin and Devon went outside for a smoke
while Michael and I hung back in the lobby, standing next to a huge
cardboard cutout advertising the newest Pixar movie. He tried to
make conversation but I wasn’t exactly responsive. I felt
uncomfortable and jumpy, despite the rum. Warm too, but I held on
to my jacket as if it were a coat of armor protecting me from an
attack of flying arrows.

When it came time for the next (and last)
movie, Devon and Robin reappeared in the lobby, red-cheeked and
laughing and smelling of smoke. Devon headed for the concession
stand again while Robin walked with Michael and me back to the
theater.

“Devon had to go get a bucket of popcorn and
some Twizzlers,” she told us. “He’s still high from earlier
tonight.”

That explained the bloodshot eyes and sleepy
expression. Robin didn’t look too sober herself, but I guess I
didn’t either. That rum was
strong
. I stole a furtive glance
at Michael’s eyes, checking to see if they were like Devon’s, but
they seemed clear to me. Then I got sort of lost in gazing at him
for a minute, and he caught me in the act.

“I don’t even like taking Tylenol,” he
said.

“Neither does Taylor,” Robin told him,
bumping me with her hip. “She’s seen too many After-School
Specials.”

“I hear Tylenol is one hell of a drug to
quit,” I said. Robin and I started giggling uncontrollably while
Michael looked on with an amused expression.

“Come to the washroom with me,” Robin said
suddenly, and then dragged me toward the nearest john before I even
had a chance to tell Michael I’d be right back. We each went inside
a stall. “So how’s it going?” she asked through the metal
partition.

“I don’t know.” I flushed the toilet. “It’s
hard to talk at the movies.”

We emerged from our stalls at the same time.
“You seem kind of uptight,” Robin said as we washed our hands.
“Even after drinking half my Coke.”

“Yeah, because this is insane. You could’ve
told me this was a double date, you know. I feel ridiculous, being
here with him. I mean, he’s freaking perfect, Robin. How am I
supposed to live up to that?”

Our eyes met in the mirror as she fixed her
hair. “Nobody is perfect. Give him a chance, Tay. I think he might
surprise you.”

Like Brian surprised me?
I thought,
following Robin out of the washroom. Michael was still right where
we left him in the lobby, waiting for me. “Ready?” he asked,
holding out his hand for me to take. All I could do was stare at
it, hesitant and torn on what to do next. Part of me wanted to take
his hand and let him believe I liked him, and part of me wanted to
ignore it and let him believe I wasn’t interested. The problem was
that both things were true.

“Ready,” I said, and I took his hand. It was
fine until I realized we looked like a couple, holding hands like
that, and my arm tensed up. And then my palms started sweating. And
finally I started inching away, little by little. Michael obviously
sensed this sudden cooling off because by the time we were in our
seats again, he had let my hand go. And from that point on, despite
acting polite as ever, it was clear he’d given up on me. I couldn’t
blame him, really, what with the dizzying mixed signals I’d been
throwing out all night.

I didn’t pay much attention during the last
movie either. I sat there in silence, watching the screen without
actually seeing it and methodically nibbling on popcorn. Every so
often I’d glance at Michael, whose jaw had continued to grow
increasingly rigid in the past hour. My rum buzz had worn off and
been replaced by the heaviness of remorse.
He’s a nice guy
,
I kept thinking.
He deserves someone who’s open and trusting and
secure, someone who’s…perfect. Someone other than me.

As predicted, Michael offered to drive me
home after the movie. Purely out of courtesy, I knew. My curfew was
fast approaching, so I agreed. First, we dropped Devon and Robin
off at some college party taking place at an old house on the north
end of town. Before leaving the car Robin assured me that she’d get
a taxi home in a couple of hours, and I made her promise to call me
in the morning.

“She’ll be okay,” Michael said, seeing the
worry in my face as we pulled away from the house. “She’s tough,
right?”

I thought about the time I saw her kick a
guy in the shins for brushing up against her in line at Taco Bell.
And then afterwards he apologized and bought her a taco. “Yes,” I
said. “She is.”

It was a quiet drive home. Michael wasn’t
even trying to make conversation anymore. The silence in the car
got louder and louder with each city block, and I began to wonder
who would break it first.

Finally, with the car parked neatly in the
driveway alongside my father’s Camry, Michael’s voice sliced
through the silence. “Well,” he said, his eyes on the front door,
where Leo had once again stationed himself behind the window. “I
guess…”

“I’m sorry for tonight,” I said, thinking an
apology was the least I could offer him after such a disastrous
date.

He looked at me, puzzled. “What are you
sorry for?”

I inhaled deeply, catching the pungent smell
of burnt pumpkin flesh coming from outside the open window.
“Wasting your time.”

He didn’t deny the fact that wasting his
time was precisely what I’d done. “Why did you go tonight?” He
didn’t seem angry or even annoyed. Just curious. Baffled by the
mystery that was me.

“I don’t know.”

“I asked you out because I thought we liked
each other. I mean, you seemed to like me before when we were
talking at—.”

“I did,” I said quickly. “I
do
. Like
you.”

He switched the car off, and I knew I was in
for a long grilling. Hopefully he wouldn’t get frustrated when he
realized I was just as puzzled over my actions as he was. “Then
what happened? What changed?”

I focused on a tiny chip in the windshield,
the only visible flaw on the entire car, and mulled over his
question. What happened? The answer was simple: I got scared. I
liked him, the mere idea of liking someone scared me, and so I
retreated. Simple as that.

“A few weeks ago I found out that my
ex-boyfriend—who I’d been friends with since we were five—was
cheating on me,” I said bluntly. “I guess I’m not ready to start
dating again.”

He nodded, but didn’t seem any more
enlightened. “Robin mentioned something about that, but she said
you were over it.”

“Robin likes to assume things.”

“So you’re not over it?”

“I’m over
him
.” I knew now was not
the time to go into my assorted issues with boys and trust and
expectations. “It’s not so easy to get past the betrayal part.”

“So you think all guys are like your ex,
right?” he said. He was pretty perceptive. Or more likely, Robin
had mentioned that too. She’d probably told him all about me,
listing my imperfections in order from least to most intolerable.
When I didn’t contradict his words, a look of understanding dawned
on his face and I knew he was probably imagining what a
relationship with me would be like—maddening, exhausting, and so
not worth the trouble.

“Robin told me you just got out of a bad
relationship too,” I said, trying to even the playing field.
“Aren’t you worried the next one might turn out the same?”

He traced the steering wheel with his
fingers as he contemplated this. “Not really. Every relationship is
different. And after my experience with her,
I’m
different.”

“How so?”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Let’s just
say I have a better idea of what I want and what I don’t want.”

I gave a short laugh. “My ex would probably
say the same thing, after his experience with me. He made it pretty
clear that I’m not what he wants.”

“I’m sorry,” Michael said softly.

“Don’t be. It was for the best. He’s happy
now. But it does suck that we’re not friends anymore.”

He reclined in the seat, tipping his head
back as if he needed to work out a kink in his neck. As he did this
I couldn’t help but notice how his shirt slid down to reveal the
smooth curve of his collarbone. “Maybe we could be,” he said,
straightening up again.

“What?” I was still mesmerized by the way
the light played on his skin.

“Friends. Maybe we could be friends.”

I tore my eyes away from his throat region
and concentrated on looking into his eyes, which was even more
distracting, in a way. He held my gaze as the air grew thicker and
heavier around us. “Okay,” I said, and then I leaned over and
kissed him.

My impulsiveness surprised us both. But once
the initial shock had passed, he started kissing me back, his hands
gliding gently over my hair. Something within me sparked alive,
igniting like a pile of dehydrated brushwood. Kissing Brian had
never felt anything like this. If it had, I realized, we never
would’ve broken up in the first place.

“Oops,” I said, backing away. My whole body
was buzzing and it wasn’t from the rum. “Friends aren’t supposed to
do that.”

“We can be friends who do that,” Michael
said in a slightly uneven voice that told me he had felt the
electricity too. He buried his face in my hair, and I shivered as
his warm breath washed over my ear. “You smell like coconut.”

Brian used to tell me the same thing, all
the time. Only it sounded much, much sexier when Michael said it.
“It’s probably the rum.”

“No, it’s you.” He kissed me again and I
surrendered, finally accepting the fact that I was too far gone to
turn back. Besides, I didn’t really want to.

Chapter 8

“What happened to ‘I’m done with boys.’?”
Erin asked, lowering her voice on the last four words in a lame
attempt to imitate me. Instead she ended up sounding like a
man.

“I lied,” I said, hiding my annoyance behind
my milk carton as I took a big swig.

Ashley looked perturbed when I said this.
She thought lying was one of the worst sins imaginable. According
to her, it was right up there with murder. “You mean you changed
your
mind
,” she said.

“Sure, Ash.”

I’d just finished telling them about what
happened with Michael on Saturday night, and already I regretted
ever opening my mouth. Fearing this exact reaction, I’d kept it to
myself for four whole days, savoring it like a huge, gooey brownie.
But now the truth was out, and it was time for my friends to pick
apart my hypocrisy, piece by agonizing piece.

“I’m psyched for you, Taylor,” Erin said,
smoothing her long black hair behind her ears. “It’s about time you
made Brian suffer. If you want, I can go up to him in biology and
casually let it slip that you have a new boyfriend.”

I slammed my milk down on the table and then
scanned the cafeteria, checking to see if anyone nearby was
listening. No one seemed to be paying any attention to us. “I’m not
trying to make Brian jealous,” I hissed. “And I do
not
have
a new boyfriend.”