Punk 57

“Mmmm.” I hear Lyla’s soft coo.

Jesus Christ.

Katelyn walks away, smiling, and I do my best to act like I’m not sitting here, shattering right now. I want to believe she’s lying. He wouldn’t go for her. He’s not after a quick thrill, is he? He wanted me in the library. Me. He wouldn’t forget that. Not so soon.

But… He did say he knows where to go to get what he wants.

Like an animal. The biting, the roughness, the way his eyes and hands and mouth take what they want… She described him perfectly.

I swallow the lump in my throat. I feel nauseous.

“Well, I guess there’s something to be said for the bad ones,” Lyla muses, watching Masen climb into his truck. “And that piercing? I’ll bet it feels good. Everywhere.”

Ten squeezes my shoulder from behind, and I snap back into focus, uncurling my fingers from the wheel. My knuckles are as white as snow.

“Let’s go eat and raid my mom’s liquor before the drive-in,” he tells me. “Lyla’s driving tonight, so I’m getting wasted.”

Yeah, I don’t think I can eat.

But watching Masen take off out of the parking lot, probably going to do who-knows-who, I might just take a drink.

Friday nights at the drive-in are just an excuse for every teenager with a car in Falcon’s Well to hang out in one place. Especially since it just opened back up a few weeks ago in time for spring. The weather’s nice, there’s a concession stand with food, car stereos blast music, and I doubt even a quarter of the people here are even watching the movie tonight.

One of those stupid nouveau slasher flicks with lots of gritty pain and an ambiguous ending, I’m sure.

After dinner, I’d gone home and changed into some jean shorts and a tank top before Lyla and Ten swung by to pick me up.

Trey arrived with J.D. just as we got here, all of us parking up in the front row. They started making the rounds, going off to talk to different people and hang out, while I headed for the concession stand. My mom doesn’t let us drink our calories, so the movies is one of the only chances I get to have a Coke.

I walk inside the concession area and move down the line, grabbing a cup and filling it with ice.

“You dropped this the other night,” a smooth voice says.

I jerk my head up to see Masen, standing right at my side. Butterflies take off in my stomach.

I look down to see him holding out my inhaler and then quickly glance around, making sure no one is watching. I snatch it out of his hand and slip it into my pocket. Shit. I must’ve left it on the library floor after we…

I turn back to the soda machine, not saying anything as I fill my drink up and secure the lid.

“How’ve you been?” he asks.

But I refuse to engage. I take my drink and move down the line, grabbing a straw and flexing my jaw in anger. Images of Katelyn, half-naked with her legs wrapped around him as he lies on top of her on the backseat of his car, flood my mind. I tap the straw on the counter, trying to unsheathe it from its wrapper, but it snaps and breaks instead.

I toss it in the trash can and grab another. How could he look down at her and want her over me? How could he kiss her? Does it even matter who it is? I thought he was different.

“You heard, didn’t you?” he says, following me as I pick out candy. “I’m glad. I wanted you to hear.”

I bend down and pick up a bag of Sour Patch Kids. “No one cares what you do, loser.”

He takes a step closer. “You have a boyfriend,” he points out, shrugging. “Katelyn’s got a hell of a body, she’s good in bed…”

My fingers curl around my paper cup, the lid pops off, and Coke overflows, spilling all over my hand.

Dammit.

He snorts, and I scurry, grabbing napkins and cleaning myself up.

Good in bed? The thought of him enjoying her—touching her—makes me want to shove a rubber dick up his nose.