Double Clutch (25 page)

“
It’s my Tuesday dinner.” I heard him rip a package open.

“
Every Tuesday?”

“
Yep.” I heard a loud sizzle. “Monday is eggs, Wednesday is sandwich day, Thursday is pasta and Friday is TV dinner night. Every week for as long as I can remember.”

“
Are you serious?” It was so disgusting and sad.

“
Yeah. I’m in charge of food shopping. My dad just drops me off with some cash and comes back to pick me up. So, I know exactly how much to buy with the money he leaves me. And it’s all stuff I can make pretty easily.”

“
What about weekends?” I couldn’t imagine eating such a limited amount of food. What about fruits? Fresh breads? Delicious cheeses? Desserts?

“
We go out to Arby’s sometimes. Or I just find something. I used to eat at friends’ houses.” I could hear him eating. It must have been hot, because he was doing the inverted blow.

“
I feel bad for you.” I tried to make my voice light, but my joke was too close to the truth. I really did feel sad when I thought about his pathetic dinners.

He laughed. “I won’t say no if you want to come over and spoil me with your cooking. But don’t feel bad. It’s not totally unhealthy. It keeps me full, and it’s easy to make. And it hasn’t killed me yet.”

I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what bothered me about it. Maybe it was just how lonely and monotonous it was. My dinners were always at least eaten with Mom. I realized company was probably the exact reason Jake had chosen to call me while he ate instead of after.

“
Maybe you could add some salads in once in a while. And switch to juice or water sometimes,” I recommended.

“
I’ll do it if you think it’s a good idea,” he said easily. “But I don’t really want to talk about all the lame stuff I eat.”

I lay back on my bed and breathed deeply. I imagined I could still smell his lingering scent on the pillows. “So, what do you want to talk about?” I asked while I nuzzled into the pillows.

“
You and me. I had a good time today.” There was that feeling when he ended the last sentence that made me think he was going to slap a big ‘but’ on. I waited, but he didn’t.

“
Me too.” I sighed.

“
But it can’t happen again for a while,” he said firmly.

So there was the
but
.

“
What?” I was so aggravated, I wanted to slap the phone down and take a few deep breaths before we talked again. But he was on now, and I wanted to know why this idiot idea had come into his brain.

“
It was great. But it was too risky. You’re not experienced, and you don’t know what you’re asking for. I‘ve never felt so out of control. I don‘t trust myself with you.”

“
So now you know what I want and don’t want?” I found both my hands knotting into fists.

“
No!” he said too fast. “Well, maybe. I just know more about it in general.”

“
Know more about drunk, awful sex,” I argued, striking low and mean because I was so mad, I was beyond being reasonable. “I liked being with you today. I didn’t feel pressured, and I definitely don’t regret what happened.” I felt like a gigantic weight landed in the center of my chest. “I don’t think I’m cool with you calling the shots.” I knew my voice sounded a little wavery, but I didn’t care. I needed to make my point.

“
What we said when I left…” he said, trying a new track.

“
That we loved each other, Jake. That’s what we said.” Now I was getting pissed. Here he was, telling me the limits of our relationship, and he wasn’t even brave enough to say the word
love
.

“
Right. That.” He stumbled around it awkwardly. “I meant it. I do. I love you. And I don’t want this to be like the other times.”

I rubbed my fingers over my eyes. “Jake, I thought you told me every other time has been a one night stand with some girl you barely cared about.”

“
Yeah.” I could hear the frustration in his voice.

“
Then it doesn’t really have anything to do with sex, does it?” I argued logically. “It’s about caring about the person. And being sober and making a choice because you want to and not because you’re drunk.”

How could he argue with that?

“
You don’t understand, Brenna,” he argued, his words measured with his telltale patience. “You’re really new to this.”

In my head, I opened my mouth and screamed into the phone.

In real life, I couldn’t wake my mother.

“
This is so stupid. You’re lumping me with those other girls you used to date. This is unfair.” I sounded childish, and I couldn’t care less.

“
Brenna, I just want to protect you. Things went a lot farther and faster than I expected them to today. We should just be careful.” He spoke with an authority that I didn’t want to respect, even though I knew he technically had more experience and understood more.

“
Fine.” It wasn’t fine. It was far from fine. It was a nasty, messy, tangled knot that only got more snarled the more I thought about it.

“
Are you okay?”

I’d said
fine
. Didn’t he know
fine
was the word that always meant,
no, not even close to fine
? Usually I was more direct. Isn’t that what Jake told me about myself just a few hours ago? But he wasn’t listening to reason. It was funny that he kept trying to pin it on me when he was the one with regrets.

“
You regret what we did.” The full reality of it dawned on me the minute the words popped out of my mouth, and it made my stomach ache to imagine that he felt the opposite of what I felt.

“
Just that we went so fast.” He took a deep breath.

“
We didn’t have sex!” I cried.

“
There aren’t many more steps between what we did and sex,” he said knowingly.

“
I’m not an idiot, Jake!” I was on the brink of tears. What happened was wonderful, amazing. It was nothing to be ashamed of or to regret. “If I decide to have sex, I will. And if I decide not to have sex, I won’t.”

“
You’re not ready to make those choices,” he said, his voice still annoyingly calm.

“
I am too!” I practically yelled. “I am ready to choose, and I certainly don’t need you to decide for me.”

“
Brenna, I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“
Yeah, okay. I have to get to sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.” My throat burned and I closed my eyes tight in an attempt to stop the tears that clawed behind my lids.

“
Wait…”

“
I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” I cut in and clicked the phone off.

I squeezed the phone in my hand and shook it. How could he be so pigheaded? How could he feel like this was something he could decide for me? I lay on the bed, but I knew it would be a long time before I fell asleep.

I tossed and turned, looked at my phone and ran my fingers over the screen with the intent to dial his number six different times. Every time, I stopped myself. We would just wind up having the same roundabout conversation and get nowhere.

Finally I closed my eyes and counted my breaths. I counted to ten on my inhale and ten on my exhale. I kept doing it until I fell fast asleep.

The next morning I dressed extra cute. I straightened my hair and trimmed my bangs a little. I put on dramatic makeup and wore a tight v-neck tunic t-shirt I had designed and my favorite jeans with Converse sneakers. I opened the window of my room and stuck my head out. It was cool, but not cold.

“
Morning Mom!” I called when I heard her rifling around in the kitchen.

“
Hey Bren.” She smiled when I stepped into the kitchen. “Oatmeal’s on the table. Did you sleep okay?”

“
Yeah, thanks. I read online that the weather is supposed to stay pretty nice. Is it okay if I take my bike? I told Saxon I’d only call if you didn’t think it was a good idea.”

She sighed, a long-suffering sigh. “Go ahead.” She shook her head. “But I have my school computer set up to get the forecasts, so don’t think you’re going to be on that thing if it’s supposed to be nasty out.”

“
I promise I won’t.” I kissed her and headed to school, free.

It made my heart skip to feel my blood racing and the air rushing into my lungs and back out. I thought about Jake and his sex proclamations. I thought about Saxon trying to force me to ride with him. Screw them both!

I whipped into Frankford’s front area and ran to English. Mr. Dawes was handing out a quiz. Everyone groaned and mumbled.

“
Honors English,” Mr. Dawes droned. “It means I’m not your babysitter. If I tell you to read through chapter ten by Tuesday, I think it’s more than fair to quiz you on the reading on Wednesday.”

A whiny girl raised her hand and asked what to do if we had left the book at school on Monday night.

“
Then, Ms. Henson, you would have been unprepared on Tuesday anyway, wouldn’t you? Here’s some advice; bring your book home. Every day.” An evil smile curled over his face and the girl huffed.

Devon muttered under his breath. I glared at his back, but decided not to engage with him. Devon didn’t need a broken nose because my boyfriend was an idiot. I finished the test, double checked the answers and turned it over on the desktop. Mr. Dawes motioned for me to bring it up. He graded it while I stood there, then did that crazy, embarrassing thing teachers sometimes do.

“
Class!” he called. Every other student looked up with bleary eyes and vicious mutters. “Ms. Blixen has completed her quiz and made a perfect one hundred. Consider your curve ruined.” He laughed cruelly, and I slunk back to my seat and opened the book to read a little more. If the class was going to hate me, at least I could get the best grades and truly earn their loathing.

Mr. Dawes collected the papers and put notes on the board, finished grading while we wrote, handed the quizzes back, and put even more notes on the board. We copied until another teacher poked his head in, and Mr. Dawes went out to talk to him.

Devon Conner turned around in his seat and looked at me. “I got a seventy five,” he announced.

“
What are you talking about?” I flipped the pages of my book with my thumb.

“
The quiz.” Devon pointed to my paper “You got a hundred.”

“
What’s with you?” I snarled. “I’m smart, Conner. Accept it. And get over the fact that I do share time. Obviously, lots of smart people do it. Why does it amaze you so much?”

“
I was going to say that you probably have a lot more work to do since you have your normal classes here and all your work at Tech, but you still got a hundred.” He stared at me with wide, unblinking eyes.

“
Oh,” I said, because what else could you say in the face of such social awkwardness? “Well, study more. I study a lot. And I’ve read the book before.”

“
Don’t you think it’s kind of boring?” His shoulders relaxed very slightly.

I rolled my eyes. “It’s kind of dense, but that doesn’t mean it’s boring. I mean a bunch of boys going crazy and killing each other on an island? Not exactly boring.”

He nodded. “We have a group project on this at the end of the unit.” He gave me an expectant look.

“
Okay?”

“
Will you be in my group?” he blurted.

I wanted to say something mean and blow him off, but there was something weirdly likable about Devon Conner. Maybe it was just his directness. He reminded me a little of me. “Sure. Just don’t think I’m going to be doing all the work, partner. I don’t get Cs.”

“
Thanks.” He looked at me from his small eyes, blinked a few times nervously, then turned around and went back to reading. I noticed he was about three chapters behind. That made his C a fairly decent grade; it also warned me I might not have such an easy time reigning in Devon Conner.

Saxon looked up when I walked into government and stared me down as I came to our seats. We were setting up a polling survey we would later have to actually call on. “You all have cell phones!” Sanotoni barked. “We’ll call on Friday. The team with the most responses wins.”

“
What do we win?” asked shrew-faced Lynn.

“
A trip to the polling booth next week,” Sanotoni answered. “All day pass out of class.”

I was going to raise my hand and ask about my schedule. I didn’t want to win if it meant missing Tech. It would also be a day alone with Saxon, which was a bad idea no matter what I might secretly want. In the end, I decided the simplest thing was to make sure I didn’t win. It would be easy enough; I just wouldn’t be that good a caller.

“
Hey, buddy.” Saxon looked me up and down.

“
What are you looking at?” I snapped.

He smiled, a slow, coiling smile. “You look hot when you’re a little riled, Blix. Come. Sit. Learn.”

He was writing! He actually had a pen in his hand and was working.

“
What are you doing?” I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the pen clasped in his hands. Had I ever seen Saxon willingly hold a pen during class? I couldn’t recall a single instance.

His black eyes danced with evil mischief when he looked my way. “I’m winning a date with you. Granted, it’s the frigging lamest date on earth, but I’m winning it anyway.”