Bitter End (10 page)

“My lady,” he said in this phony British accent that had me giggling. He reached in and took my hand, tugging me gently out
of the car, shutting the door behind me with his other hand.

I curtsied and adopted my own goofy British accent. “Why, thank you, sir,” I said. But when I looked up from my curtsy, he
wasn’t smiling anymore. His face had taken on a totally serious look.

He stepped in toward me, resting both hands on my hips, which practically burned under his touch. “You look amazing tonight,”
he said, pulling me in until our bellies were touching.

I could feel my face get hot. “Thanks,” I said. “You look great, too.” I expected him to say something else but was surprised
when instead he just reached up, buried his hands in my hair at the back of my head, and kissed me. It was a soft, slow, easy
kiss. One of those first kisses where nobody gets adventurous and where it feels so good you think your toes might melt off,
but you’re so busy hoping your breath doesn’t smell and your stomach is in such tight knots, it’s over before it even really
registers that it began.

But when he released me, I wasn’t sure I could even walk
into the theater, which looked to be about a thousand miles away. My knees were shaking, and I couldn’t believe what had just
happened.

“Shall we go?” he asked finally, in that same British accent, and I nodded, pressing my lips together to smooth my lip gloss.

He wrapped his arm around my neck, and we walked into the theater, our hips bumping and me thinking that there might be other
good days in my life, but there was no way any day could get better than this one.

We were early for the movie and walked into a mostly empty theater with our sodas and popcorn. A part of me hoped against
hope that we would be the only two to show up, even though I knew from the looks of the parking lot it would be packed before
the previews began.

Still. Maybe he’d kiss me again. The thought made me totally not hungry. I sipped my soda.

“You choose the seat,” he said, gesturing with his soda.

I walked to the middle of the center row and we sat down.

“Perfect!” I said, settling my soda into the cup holder.

He sat next to me. “I’m surprised. I would’ve taken you for a front-row viewer for sure.” He winked at me, positioning the
popcorn in his lap and taking a big handful of it.

“Front row? Why?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. You just look like a woman who wants to be up close to the action.”

I shook my head. “Uh-uh. Sitting in the front row gives me a headache. What about you? You a front-row guy?”

He shoveled the popcorn into his mouth, chewed for a minute, and then said, “Always.”

“We can move,” I said. “Really. I don’t always get a headache. Besides, being in the front row for this movie might be really
intense.”

“Nah,” he said. “My girl likes to be safe in the middle, we’ll be safe in the middle.”

“You sure?” I asked, but before he could answer, a group of girls wandered in, giggling. We both glanced up.

It may have been my imagination, but I could swear Cole stopped chewing for just a fraction of a second. But it was so subtle
and brief, I felt myself doubting I saw him pause, even as I was thinking it.

But one thing wasn’t subtle: One of the girls totally stopped laughing when she saw us. In fact, she stopped walking, her
hands reaching out to her friends on either side of her, almost like she was startled.

They all hesitated and looked over at Cole, and then one of the girls whispered, “C’mon, Maria,” and tugged at the girl’s
shirt. Finally, she stopped staring at Cole and followed them up the stairs behind us. Their giggles started up again after
a few seconds, but when I glanced back at them, the girl was still just staring at Cole, her face stone cold.

I tried to read the reaction in Cole’s face, but it was dark and shadowy, and he was chewing on the popcorn again. The light
from the movie screen was flickering off his forehead.

“You know them?” I asked, trying to sound light and cheery. I didn’t want to sound like a jealous girlfriend. But it was obvious
that
something
was up between them.

“Yeah,” he said, taking a sip of his soda. “They go to Pine Gate. Not exactly friends of mine, though.”

I glanced back at the girl, who was now distracted by her friends. They were chatting, loudly, and passing a bag of candy
back and forth. “I could tell,” I whispered. “She looked ready to bolt when she saw you.”

He made a snorting noise. “Nah, it’s nothing like that. She’s a junior. Her parents are friends with my parents. Used to be,
I mean. They don’t really hang together since we moved. Which is good ’cause Maria’s kind of a psycho. Has to go to this therapist,
like, three times a week. Nuts.”

I glanced back again. It was true that the girl looked sort of disengaged, even sitting with her friends and talking. Every
so often her eyes would go soft and blank, and she’d stare down into her lap with this really faraway expression on her face.
And then someone would bump her, and you could almost see her snap out of it and start laughing again. But it was a fake laugh.
A forced one. He was totally right. Something about that girl didn’t look right.

I turned back and reached into the popcorn bucket. “So, how come you guys moved from Pine Gate anyway? It’s so close.”

He shrugged. “Who knows? My parents just decided to move. Wanted a bigger house and found one out here.”

“Your senior year? I mean, couldn’t you commute if you wanted to?”

He swallowed his popcorn and turned to me. “Are you trying to get rid of me?” he asked, his voice soft but ornery. He grinned,
and his lips glistened in the blue light. “Already you’re sick of me?” He turned toward the screen again, shaking his head
in mock exasperation. “Dangit. Already blown it with the most gorgeous girl in school.”

I giggled and then reached over and grabbed his chin, moving his face toward mine. “I’m glad you moved,” I whispered.

“Good,” he whispered back, and kissed me.

It was a lot easier to ignore the Pine Gate girls behind us after that. Cole and I held hands and tried to beat each other
answering the movie trivia questions that were scrolling on the screen as the theater filled up.

After a while, a couple walked in and sat right in front of us.

Cole immediately leaned forward. “Hey, dude,” he said. “My girlfriend can’t see over you. Do you think you could maybe move
to a different seat?”

Instantly my ears heard the word “girlfriend,” and I didn’t care if I ever saw a single scene in the movie after that. I,
who’d never had a real boyfriend in my life, was somehow Cole Cozen’s girlfriend. This guy who didn’t even try to kiss me
until our second date. Who was gorgeous and smart and talented and a sports star. This guy who taught
me how to play guitar and was worried about some random stranger blocking my view of the movie screen without my saying a
word. This guy who seemed to do little else but pay attention to me and work extra hard to make sure I felt like I mattered.

The guy in front of us shook his head. “Nowhere else to sit, man.”

Cole leaned forward again. “Look, I just think maybe you should move to the back or something.”

The guy in front of us shook his head again and turned back to the screen, clearly finished discussing this with Cole. His
date turned around and glanced at Cole. “Why don’t you switch places with her?” she asked. “If it’s that big a problem to
you.”

I put my hand on Cole’s arm. “Hey, it’s no big deal,” I said. “I can see if I lean to the side a little.” I gave him a reassuring
smile. “I’ll be right back.”

I shuffled out of the row and headed toward the ladies’ room.

I could hear familiar laughter echoing out of it before I even got inside. I pushed open the door hesitantly, and there was
the group of Pine Gate girls standing in front of the mirror, floofing their hair and slicking on lip gloss. Maria was washing
her hands.

I squeezed through and pushed into a stall, trying to pretend I wasn’t there. But their laughter had died into occasional
eruptions of snickers, followed by prolonged periods of intense whispering.

After I was finished, I pushed my way to a sink on the far end of the wall. The Pine Gate girls were totally silent now, and
I could feel them looking at me as I washed my hands.

Finally one of them—a heavily freckled girl with unruly curls—broke the silence. “Are you dating Cole Cozen?” she asked. I
glanced at her as I pulled two paper towels out of the towel holder. They were all staring at me. All except Maria. She was
staring at the floor.

“Yeah,” I said, trying to sound defiant. “I’m his girlfriend.” It felt weird saying those words, especially since I’d only
known I was his girlfriend for about five minutes now, but I couldn’t help smiling condescendingly when I said it.

They flicked sober looks at one another. “How long have you known him?” Freckles said.

I shrugged. “A little while,” I said noncommittally. If Maria was kind of crazy, like Cole said—and I totally believed him,
given how weird she was acting—chances were her friends were strange, too. I caught movement out of the corner of my eye.
Maria had reached over and tugged on Freckles’s sleeve, and they all started whispering again.

I threw away my paper towels and headed for the door, which meant I had to pass through their cluster. I could almost feel
a drop in the temperature when I walked past them, rolling my eyes. Jealous, much?

The theater had darkened, and the previews were just starting as I got back to my seat.

“Sorry,” I whispered. “I got trapped by your Pine Gate
friends. You’re so right about…” but I trailed off as I noticed that the big guy in front of us was gone. I pointed to the
empty seat in front of me. “Where’d they go?”

Cole grinned. “I convinced them to move,” he said. “Now you can see.”

This is it
, I thought.
This is the part about relationships I always knew existed. The romantic part. The soul-mate part. This is what I saw in those
photos of my parents—happiness, love, sacrifice. Real stuff. Here it is. It’s mine.

“I’ve got a better idea,” I said, reaching down and grabbing his hand. “Come on.”

We gathered up our sodas and popcorn, and I led him to the empty front row.

“But your headache!” Cole whispered, sliding into the seat next to me.

I shook my head. “Screw the headache. This is where all the action is.”

“I’m really starting to freak out,” Bethany said, sounding breathless on the phone. She’d been working out ever since our
first Vacay Day, saying if she was going to be scouting for hotties, she couldn’t be looking all flabby. I could hear the
whir of her treadmill in the background. “I mean, I need to know if we’re going to go in the summer or the winter, at least.”

“I know,” I said for about the billionth time.

“I have to think about college, you know?”

“I know,” I said again.

“Because if we’re going in the winter, I may not be able to go.” There was a beeping noise, and her footsteps got louder.
She was running.

“I know.”

“But there’s no good celeb-watching in the summer,” she huffed. “And I think Zack really wants to go in the winter.”

“Zack just wants some novice ski bunny to fall on him. I’m sure we could talk him into whitewater rafting with one word: bikinis.”

Bethany chuckled, and I heard more beeping, and her footsteps got even louder and faster. “I’ve gotta… go,” she said, sucking
in air. “Can we… get together sometime… before Saturday?”

“Sure,” I said. “How about tomorrow after school we’ll go to Shubb’s.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I’ll text… Zack and… let him know.” There was more beeping. “Shit.” Bethany grunted and disconnected.

The next day went by slowly, pretty much like every day did now that Cole and I were official. It seemed as though the clock
barely moved all day long until seventh period, and then it would fast-forward. Cole had been pulling As in his English class,
so we mostly spent our lab time playing table football with a paper triangle, reading my old poems and trying to set them
to song, or kissing in the corner between the supply cabinet and the wall, where Mrs. Moody couldn’t see us if she looked
in the door. Sometimes, if I didn’t have to work, we’d go out to the spillway after school, and he’d play his guitar while
I threw rocks down into the water.

But today Cole didn’t seem to be in as playful a mood as usual. He slouched in and immediately started griping about Mr. Heldorf,
his world history teacher.

“The guy’s an idiot,” he growled. “He’s giving me a C
because I was absent on the day they took some stupid reading quiz and he wouldn’t let me make it up. Moron.”

I tried reaching over and holding his hands across the desk like always, but he slipped his hands down into his lap moodily.

“That guy couldn’t teach lessons on how to wipe your ass,” he continued.

After a while his phone buzzed, and he dug in his jacket pocket for it. He looked at the screen, rolled his eyes, and put
it to his ear. “What?” he barked into the phone. There was a pause, during which his face slowly got redder and redder. “I
don’t care what you do with it. It’s not my problem. No. No. Listen, don’t call me with this shit, okay? I don’t care what
you do with it, just leave me the hell alone about it. Call someone who cares.”

He snapped the phone shut and put it back in his jacket pocket. Immediately, it buzzed again, but he ignored it.

I sat up straight in my chair. I’d never seen Cole like this. His mood was so dark you could almost see it radiating off him.
Usually he was happy and just excited to be around me. But not today. I didn’t really know what to do with this Cole. I tried
smiling, hoping it would help.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “That was my mom. She’s always got some sort of problem that needs to be worked out.
Always calling me or making me take her somewhere or some other shit. Never ends with her.”