Page 82 of Bad Intentions

And he did listen, then shushed me with a hard kiss and proved that Dougie was indeed useless in bed, whereas Derek⁠—

Well, now that I think about it, he was all right. His attitude when he was at it, things he said, in that sultry bedroom voice—those did the trick more than anything else.

Afterward, I wanted to lie next to him and hear him talk more. About him, about what it was like out there, in the big world where he came from. He never said it, but it was obvious he was from somewhere cool, like a big city, or a coastal town.

I was thinking about San Francisco and what it would be like to go there with him. But he was already zipping up, pulling his shirt on, and walking to the open-concept kitchen to pour himself another drink.

“When do I see you again?” I asked, putting my clothes back on, giddy, shy, disappointed that he’d gotten up but already wanting to do it again.

“Is that a thing now?” he asked coldly without looking at me.

Wrong answer. Wrong move. I could tell he wasn’t planning on it, and it gut-punched me.

Stupid, stupid, stupid Birdie.

I needed to smarten up.

“It is,” I said confidently, though I was trying really hard not to look upset or say something pathetic, like, “You used me.”

Of course he did. I could hear Al’s voice in my head, “What did you think, Birdie? A guy like him with a girl like you?” Her mocking laughter. The contemptuous roll of her eyes.

No, no, that was not how it was going to play out. I wanted to see her and Vic angry. Make them fight each other, fight over Derek, get jealous. He thought I’d back off quietly, but that wasn’t going to happen, because—guess what? As I was getting dressed, deliberately slowly, like I got what I wanted and he was on my time, I decided that this time was going to be different.

“We’ll see,” Derek said dryly, swirling whiskey in his glass. No drink for me. “I have things to do,” he said with a hint that I’d overstayed my welcome.

That stung, but I wasn’t going to give up so easily.

“You have a mobile?” I asked.

I was proud of my Nokia, used but good. Bought it with money I stole at one of the parties from a drunk. It might’ve been Dougie. I couldn’t afford to use many minutes talking or sending SMS, which I mostly did with Vic and Al, to keep up with them, feeling fly.

“No,” Derek said sternly.

Liar. A guy like that without the latest gadget?

I walked to the coffee table where I spotted a pen and a fair flyer and wrote down my mobile number.

“In case you need a ride or anything,” I said, walking out the door, hearing him murmur what I thought was, “I just got one.”

I felt a flash of anger. He didn’t bother walking me out. It was okay. He’d learn. I was determined to have my way.

I was about to get in my car when my phone pinged. A message from Al. She and Vic were pretty much the only ones texting or calling, and I didn’t have any other friends to begin with.

Alysha: where are you

I didn’t want to waste my text limit, but this one was important.

Me: with derek. what’s up

My phone immediately lit up with an incoming call from Al.

I didn’t answer. Screw her.

Another message came.

Alysha: derek who?

I didn’t reply.