My Sweetest Escape (18 page)

It wasn’t until I had opened the door,

waved and closed it again that I heard his

car drive away.

What a freak that boy was.

Renee was slumped over at the dining

table the next morning when I came up for

breakfast. I’d heard Paul talking softly to

her in their room the night before when I

went to check on her and figured he had it

under control. The rest of the crew crashed

in quite late. For people who were

academically inclined, drinking on a Sunday

night didn’t seem to be the wisest choice.

“How you doing, big sister?” I said, going

to grab a mug so I could make some tea.

The residents of Yellowfield House were big

on breakfast, but no one had made any yet,

so I grabbed some waffles from the freezer.

“Shut. Up.”

“Hey, you’re the one who’s supposed to

set a good example. I didn’t force you to

drink.”

“Please, just…later.” She couldn’t even

form a complete sentence.

I waited for my waffles to cook as the

other inhabitants of the house stumbled

downstairs and went for the coffeepot.

If I were a complete bitch, I could have

gotten up early and made a crap ton of

noise. The idea had been tempting, but

I hadn’t acted on it.

“Alcohol bad,” Renee said as Paul came

in the front door holding bags of greasy fast

food.

“Hangover cure,” he said, holding them

up.

“I would cheer, but I don’t want to,”

Renee said as Darah leaned against Mase.

Taylor raised her fist hesitantly.

“That’s the best I can do,” she said as

Paul distributed the bags and everyone dug

in, plates be damned.

“I got you an egg and cheese, if you

want it,” Paul said, holding a bag out to me.

“I’m set with waff les, but thanks.” He

shrugged and handed the sandwich over to

Mase, who inhaled it in three bites.

Breakfast was a quiet affair and over

because everyone was late for whatever

they were supposed to be doing.

I’d thought some of them would skip,

but they all got their butts out the door

eventually.

“So how hungover is everyone in your

house right now?”

Hannah said when I sat next to her for

Pam’s class. We had an unspoken

agreement that she would always have

Skittles, but I would have to supply my own

M&M’s, so I made sure to stop and grab

some from the machine in the Union,

enough to last me the week.

“It’s pretty epic. I was feeling bitter

about it last night, but now I’m grateful I

stayed sober.”

“Well, there is a solution to not being

hungover,” she said, flipping her notebook

open.

“Not drinking?”

She popped a Skittle into her mouth.

“Never being sober.”

“Valid point.”

Pam started the class and I had other

things to think about for the next hour.

“You know, your sister keeps you on a

tight leash,” Hannah said as we ate lunch.

“What did you do?”

What hadn’t I done? I’d been the poster

child for destructive behavior last summer.

You name it, I’d done it. Staying out late,

partying, drinking, whatever. I’d done what

I wanted, when I’d wanted to do it and

hadn’t cared what anyone said or tried to

do about it. It was fun. For a while. Even

though I’d gotten most of it out of my

system, I’d burned too many bridges and it

was going to be hell to reconstruct them.

“Let’s just say I went through my

wild-child phase.”

“You don’t seem like that now.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve gotten wiser in my old

age.”

She snorted in disbelief. “Dude, how old

are you?”

“Eighteen. I started college when I was

seventeen. My birthday’s in a month and a

half.”

“Baby. I’m already nineteen, so I am

both older and wiser.”

“So what advice do you have for me, oh

wise one?”

“Always drink less than you think you

can, trust your gut, and the next time you

see Dusty Sharp, you’d better make a

move.” She gave me a big smile.

“That’s not really what I meant.” I hadn’t

told her about the little moment, if that’s

what you could call it, that Dusty and I had

last night in the car. It was so minor I would

have felt stupid bringing it up.

We’d talked. We’d both been awkward.

The end.

“I am going to have to have an

intervention with you two, I swear. He likes

you…you like him. The equation is pretty

simple, and I kind of suck at math. You plus

Dusty equals…”

She waved her hand in a circle,

searching for the right word.

I was pretty sure it was
disaster.

She snapped her fingers.

“Sexplosion.”

“Really? You spent all that thinking and

that’s what you came up with?”

“You’re just mad that you know I’m right

and you don’t want to admit it.”

“I am not, and you’re not. Right, that is.”

“Oh, sure, sweetie. I believe you.” She

patted my arm. I chucked my straw wrapper

at her, and she laughed. Her smile fell as

she saw someone across the dining room.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Her demeanor had

completely changed. I searched and saw a

table of guys looking over at us. They

weren’t even being stealthy about it. They

could definitely take some lessons from

Dusty. One of the guys said something to

the others and they all laughed. Well, it

didn’t take a genius to put those two things

together. Most of them didn’t look familiar,

but I’d definitely seen at least two of them

at the party.

Hannah tipped her head forward and

her hair fell in front of her face like a mane

on a depressed lion.

“So I need your help,” I said, turning so I

blocked Hannah from the view of the other

table, and blocked her view at the same

time.

“With what?” She kept her head down. I

wished I could get the whole story from her,

but I knew if I pushed she’d close up like a

steel trap. I knew that because I’d do the

same thing.

“I really want to get a job, but I don’t

want something that’s going to suck, so I

need help thinking of a job I could have that

wouldn’t make me want to slit my wrists.”

“I think I’m up to that challenge,” she

said, finally lifting her head. I had no idea if

the guys were still looking and laughing, but

Hannah raised her chin and flipped her hair

back so her scar was completely visible. It

was a totally “suck on that” moment. Yes,

there was a reason I was friends with her.

We spent the rest of our time

brainstorming ideas. Some were ridiculous,

like selling my organs online, or finding a

potato chip that looked like the Virgin Mary,

but some weren’t. The campus radio station

had paid positions, I knew, as did the

student newspaper. The library was another

option, and I already had connections

because Taylor and Hunter worked there.

“They pay ten dollars an hour for nude

modeling in the art department. It’s not

really that bad,” Hannah said, as if she was

commenting on the weather.

“You’ve done it?” I nearly walked into

the trash can as we left the Union.

She nodded.

“Here and there. I’m not ashamed of my

body.” Her words were sharp, as if she

wanted to pull them out of her mouth and

hurl them like knives at the group of guys

who had been so obviously talking about

her. I bet she could if she wanted to.

“Well, I don’t know if I’m that destitute,

but I’ll put it in the maybe column.” It

seemed like a weird note to leave on.

“You know, if you ever want to come

over to hang out or study, or whatever,

you’re welcome. I have, like, a whole man

cave right outside my room.”

“Sounds good. I’ll text you, okay?”

“See you in bio.”

She walked away, her shoulders a little

hunched, but that might have been because

of the cold.

Dusty’s Golf was parked outside when I

got home that afternoon, along with

Hunter’s rust bucket. The other cars were

absent.

“Hey, Jos!” Hunter said when I walked in

to the sounds of his guitar and Dusty’s beat

boxing.

I wrote that I was home on the chart

and set my bag down, noticing that the girls

had written
out
on the chart. “Hey, Hunter.

Where is everyone?”

“Um, I think Renee kidnapped Taylor

and Darah to go look at wedding stuff. Or

something. I sort of tuned it out.

Mase is at the gym and Paul had a lab.”

Weird.

“Hey, Jos,” Dusty said, giving me a sort

of half smile. It wasn’t his full-on grin, and I

didn’t know what to make of it.

“Hey. What are you doing here?” I went

to the kitchen and grabbed an apple.

“Just thought I would swing by and see

how everyone was recovering.”

Hunter looked a hell of a lot better than

he did in the morning.

“I’m shocked they went shopping even

though they were all hungover,” I said,

sitting down on the opposite end of the

couch from Dusty.

“They bounce back pretty quick. They’re

young,” Hunter said with a smile as he

strummed his guitar. “Requests?”

I shrugged.

Hunter put the instrument back on the

little stand he had in the corner of the

room. “Something wrong?”

“Not really. Just… I don’t know.” I risked

a look at Dusty, and he had his hands in his

pockets. “Did Hannah seem weird last

night?”

“No, why?” Dusty said.

“I don’t know. She was acting weird, and

then today I saw some of the guys from the

party at the Union, and it was almost like

they were laughing at her or something. I

may be just reading too much into it, but

she got very…un-Hannah-like afterward.”

“Did somebody say something to her?”

Hunter leaned forward, ready to get to his

feet and go after whoever it was.

“I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell me. I

probably should have kept it to myself.

Please don’t say anything to her.”

Dusty and Hunter nodded and shared a

look. I could just picture the two of them,

grabbing their swords and saddling up their

white horses. They were cut from the same

cloth.

“Who’s in charge of dinner?” I said to

change the subject.

“Well, that’s also why I’m here,” Dusty

said, clearing his throat. “Hunter has

informed me that it’s your turn for dinner

and I just happen to have volunteered my

culinary skills to assist you. If you will have

them.”

I had no idea if he could cook at all, or if

he was just screwing with me. I also had no

idea what was really behind him being here,

because he obviously had a reason.

“Don’t you have your own home?”

“Yeah, a shitty apartment. Why would I

want to be there, when I could be here at

the Ritz?”

Yellowfield House was pretty nice. Oh,

who was I kidding? It was freaking sweet, as

houses went. I mean, not only was it nice,

but it was so damn clean. Darah was like a

fairy godmother who flitted around and

made sure there were absolutely no

cobwebs or dirt or anything that resembled

dirt.

But still. Why was Dusty here all of a

sudden? I mean, how stupid did they think I

was? I mean, you wouldn’t even be able to

put this past a six-year-old.

“Fine. You can help me, but we’re

making what I want, and if I tell you to get

out of my way and let me do something,

you do it. Understood?”

Dusty looked at Hunter, who looked like

he was holding back a laugh.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said as we moved into

the kitchen.

I’d planned on making lasagna, since I

had everything for it. I’d never gotten to

cook when the house was so empty, so it

would have been nice, but I had a tall and

lurky shadow.

“What can I do, oh kitchen goddess?” He