I grab a stack of books and stuff them into my backpack, amazed at how that bit of news doesn't make me feel any better.
"Yup, Rachel dumped him on Halloween when she caught him making out with a Playboy bunny. Only it wasn't really a Playboy bunny, it was Heather Watson dressed as one."
"Seriously?" I gape. "Heather Watson? You're joking." I try to picture it in my mind, but it doesn't add up.
"Scouts honor. You should see her, she lost twenty pounds, ditched the headgear, got her hair straightened, and she looks like a totally different person. Unfortunately, she also acts like a totally different person. She's kind of a, well, you know, a B with an itch," she whispers, going back to whipping the floor, as I let that bizarre piece of news sink in.
"You know, you really shouldn't be spying on people," I say, more concerned with her spying on me than any of my old friends. "It's kind of rude, don't you think?" I heave my bag onto my shoulder and head for the door.
Riley laughs. "Don't be ridiculous. It's good to keep up with people from the old neighborhood."
"Are you coming?" I ask, turning impatiently.
"Yup, and I call shotgun!" she says, slipping right past me and hopping onto the banister, her black Zorro cape floating on air as she slides all the way down.
By the time I get to Miles's, he's waiting outside, thumbs tapping his Sidekick. 'Just-one-second okay, done!" He slips onto the passenger seat and peers closely at me. "Now-tell me everything! Start to finish. I want all the dirty details, leave nothing out!"
"What're you talking about?" I back out of his driveway and onto the street, shooting a warning glance at Riley who's perched on his knee, blowing on his face and laughing when he tries to adjust the air vent.
Miles looks at me and shakes his head. "Hel-lo? Damen? I heard you guys were macking in the moonlight, making out by the pool, hooking up under the moon's silvery-"
"Where are you going with this?" I ask, even though I already know, but hoping there's some way to stop him.
"Listen, word's out so don't even try to deny it. And I would've called you yesterday but my dad confiscated my phone and dragged me to the batting cages, so he could watch me swing like a girl." He laughs. "You should've seen me, I totally camped it up and he was horror-fied! That'l
l teach him. But anyway, back to you. Come on, the divulging starts now; Tell me everything," he says, turning toward me and nodding impatiently. "Was it as awesome as we all dreamed it would be?"
I shrug, glancing at Riley and warning her with my eyes to either cease and desist or disappear. "Sorry to disappoint you," I finally say. "But there's nothing to tell"
"That's not what I heard. Haven said-"
I press my lips and shake my head. Just because I already know what Haven said doesn't mean I want to hear it spoken out loud. So I cut him off when I say, "Okay fine, we kissed. But just once." I can feel him looking at me, brows raised, lips smirked in suspicion. "Maybe twice. I don't know, it's not like I counted," I mumble, lying like a red-faced, sweaty-palmed, shifty-eyed amateur, and hoping he doesn't notice. Because the truth is I've replayed that kiss so many times it's tattooed on my brain.
"And?" he says, impatient for more.
"And-nothing," I say, relieved when I glance at him and see Riley's gone..
"He didn't call? Or text? Or e-mail? Or drop by?" Miles gasps, visibly upset, wondering what it means not only for me, but the future of our group.
I shake my head and stare straight ahead, angry with myself for not dealing with it better, hating the way my throat's gone all tight as my eyes start to sting.
"But what did he say? When he left the party, I mean? What were his very last words?" Miles asks, determined to find some ray of hope in this bleak and bitter landscape.
I turn at the light, remembering our strange and sudden good-bye at the door. Then I face Miles, swallow hard, and say, "He said, 'souvenir?'"
And the moment it's out, I know it's a really bad sign. Nobody takes a souvenir from a place they plan to frequent. Miles looks at me, his eyes expressing the words his lips have refused.
"Tell me about it," I say, shaking my head as I pull into the lot.
Even though I'm fully committed to not thinking about Damen, I can't help but feel disappointed when I get to English and see he's not there. Which, of course, makes me think about him even that much more, until I'm teetering on the edge of obsession.
I mean, just because our kiss seemed like something more than just a random hookup doesn't mean he felt the same way. And just because it felt solid and true and transcendent to me doesn't mean he was in on it too. Because no matter how hard I try, I can't shake the image of him and Drina standing together, a perfect Count Fersen with an idyllic Marie. While I stood on the sidelines all shiny and pouffy like the world's biggest wannabe.
I'm just about to click on my iPod when Stacia and Damen burst through the door. Laughing and smiling, shoulders nearly touching, two Single white rosebuds clutched in her hand.
And when he leaves her at her desk and heads toward me, I fumble with some papers and pretend I didn't see.
"Hey," he says, sliding onto his seat. Acting like everything's perfectly normal. Like he didn't pull'a grope-and-run less than forty-eight hours before.