Page 57 of On His Schedule
I nod.
“I’m going to go.”
I smile. “Thanks for walking me.”
He finally looks up. He’s flushed. “No problem, Lucy. I’ll see you later, okay?”
I nod. “Good night, Benson.”
He closes the front door, and I hear his steps echoing as he leaves.
I stand in the dark for a moment and press my fingertips to my mouth.
Chapter 11
Benson
Iturnawayfromher door and walk.
Main Street is empty. The Vietnamese place is dark. My hands are in my hoodie pocket. I’m walking slower than I need to be.
I just kissed my sister’s roommate.
I run my tongue over my bottom lip without thinking and taste whatever she had on. It was something, and it tastes good. The kiss is in my head on a loop. Her lips were soft, and she felt so good pressed against me. She grabbed my hoodie like she might’ve floated away if she hadn’t.
I walk faster. There’s a guy on his porch four doors down smoking a cigarette. He nods at me, and I nod back. It doesn’t stop my racing heartbeat. It’s pounding against my chest.
“Fuck.” I say it under my Camdenth and press my hand against my lips. I can’t remember the last time a kiss meant more than just lust.
Hawthorne is still going when I come up the driveway. Two guys sit on the porch, whom I half-recognize. There’s a girl in between them crying. She looks up at me and hides her face.
The party has thinned to about twenty people. The freshmen are mostly gone. Stanley is somewhere I can’t see, and I am grateful for it. I find Gianna in the kitchen with Walsh’s girlfriend.
“I walked Lucy home. She’s good.”
“Cool. I’m gonna stay a bit.”
I say, “I’m heading up. You crashing here?”
“Yeah, probably.”
“My floor’s open.”
“Thanks, bro.”
I almost say something. Instead, I lick my lips and taste Lucy again. Impulse moves through me, and instead of telling my sister that I broke her one and only rule, I go upstairs.
I take off my hoodie and throw it on my desk chair. I close my bedroom door and pace the room. My hands rub the back of my neck, relieving pressure.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I lay in my bed for I don’t know how long when my bedroom door opens, and I hear my sister say, “It’s just me.”
I have a king bed, but she refuses to sleep in it becauseshe doesn’t know who’s been in it. She takes the ground, and I finally relax. I roll onto my side and face the wall. I close my eyes.
I wake up to a phone buzzing against the floor. At first, I thought it was my headache. When I open my eyes, I feel a tightness in my chest that’s aching even worse than my head. I fumble for my phone on the nightstand and let my arm drop over the side of the bed.
When I glance down, Gianna is on the floor in the sleeping bag. She’s fully dressed from last night with mascara on her cheekbone. Her phone is face up on the carpet next to her, screen lit.
