Second Skin (21 page)

Judging from the look she was shooting my way, the slight hadn't gone unnoticed. Since the scene in Williams-Sonoma, we were no longer in an official fight. But I was definitely on probation.

"Be right back," I told Jules and Heidi, and cut across the room.

Ouch.
The Skin was seriously digging into my side. I felt like I was being liposuctioned.

"Thanks so much for leaving the chick clique behind," Gwen said as I approached. "Very considerate. It's dangerous to have all that hair product near the food."

"Wow," I said, looking down at the table. It was covered with desserts: lemon squares, Linzer cookies, petit fours and brownies. They were all there, spread out on long silver trays. "Move over, Martha Stewart."

Gwen rolled her eyes. "Hack," she muttered under her breath. She looked at me, the hint of a smile on her lips. "It turned out pretty well, right? I was a little worried about the seven-layer bars but I think-"

I shook my head. "Everything looks great. Really. Thanks so much."

I winced as Gwen's expression leapt from satisfied to offended.

Evidently, I was in no position to ask for favors.

Gwen stalked over to Chuck. "Can't you at least chew?" she demanded, waving her hand over the spread. "This stuff didn't exactly come from a mix."

Chuck snorted. "What's the big deal, Pot Roast?" he asked, clearly amused. He swiped a few chocolate lace cookies from a tray. "I'll bet you pack away twice that much."

I watched, horrified, as laughter erupted around us. Gwen's cheeks colored and her mouth dropped open, ready to deliver the insult her brain hadn't yet formed.

I took a step toward Chuck, ready to tell him to shut up, when Gwen's eyes met mine.

"Oh my god," she breathed, incredulous. "You're smiling."

I was? No way. My hands flew to my mouth, touching the plastic grin that stretched across my face.
I
was.

A shiver ran down my spine. It was like I was

"I didn't mean-" I started in. God, her face was killing me. I could handle Gwen's sarcasm. I even expected it. But this-all the hurt and disappointment-it was too much.

"Who are you?" she asked, shaking her head. Tears swam in her eyes. "I mean, really?"

I had no idea. But before I had a chance to say anything, a song blasted through the speakers. I recognized it immediately as one of Jules's favorites. It was light, poppy...and definitely in the top ten.

Gwen tossed me a final, pained smile. "Perfect," she said, turning away. "Just perfect."

"See ya, Pot Roast!" Chuck Todd shouted after her as she disappeared through the crowd. His jock friends whooped appreciatively.

Shut up.

I thought the words, but for some reason couldn't say them. It didn't really matter anyway. I was too late.

"Hey," Alex said, appearing by my side, Diet Coke in hand. "I tried three different tables-this one's definitely the coldest."

"So listen," Alex said. "About before...I wanted to talk to you."

"Um, could we maybe do this later?" I asked, feeling extra clumsy. "Now's not really a good time-"

"The thing is: I'm in love with you."

"You..." I trailed off, unable to finish. My head was spinning as the planet-filled room fell away.
This is real,
I told myself.
This is really happening.

"Right. I love you," Alex said, sounding relieved and not at all nervous. "I have for-well, pretty much for forever."

I stared at him as several different and completely contradictory reactions twisted inside me. On the one hand, I was too shocked to process much of anything and was in serious danger of hyperventilating. I felt like I'd just completed four back-to-back pep squad practices.

Another part of me heard the words but refused to believe them. I simply wasn't worthy. Alex was too good for me. Too smart. Too cute. Too honest. He was completely out of my league.

But at the same time-and I realize this makes absolutely no sense-I wasn't shaken at all.

Then, finally, came the ugly part-the awful part. The one that told me this simply wouldn't work. Samantha Klein and Alex Ashby? Come
on.
The most popular girl in school and a guy who builds soapbox cars? Impossible...

It was, without a doubt, the cruelest moment I'd ever had. I hated myself for thinking it. And I hated myself even more for believing it was true.

This was too much. Too intense. I needed an out.

"Mullins is here!"

"There is a god!"

I looked up to see Tanner, still dressed in full lacrosse garb, stomping across the floor. He was covered in mud and carrying a trophy easily half his size.

Turning away from Alex, I smiled in Tanner's direction and clapped along with the rest of the cafeteria. (For the record, there was also a lot of hooting going on but I refrained.) It wasn't a nice thing to do. At all. But compared to what happened next, it was nothing.

Including Alex.

I knew it was a mistake almost instantly, as soon as his sweat-soaked face descended. His lips felt hard against mine and, despite the fact that he'd finally removed his mouth guard, there was a definite slobber situation happening. He smelled, too. Like grass and sweat and dirt-but not in a way that was manly or appealing. Just smelly.

My entire body locked. I squeezed my eyes shut and an image of Alex popped into my head. Or, to be precise: the image was of Alex and me. Together.

And that was when I relaxed and got into things. My resistance melted, my body welcomed and my lips searched for more.

The hoot yanked me back to reality. I opened my eyes. The real Alex was standing beside me. Watching his date make out with someone else.

I turned to him. "Wow, I'm-"

He held up his hand, cutting me off. His mouth was a thin, hard line across his face and his eyes were fierce.

"Don't," he said. "Just forget it."

And then, just as the cafeteria burst into a thunderous round of applause for Woodlawn's supercouple, he was gone.

I was alone. Stuck with Tanner Mullins and our overwhelming popularity.

I'd spent the remainder of the dance praying for something to hit me on the head-hard. A shooting star. Or better yet, a planet.

No such luck. Thanks to the Spring Fling committee's investment in extra-strength masking tape, those constellations weren't going anywhere. And that left me trapped at the dance, tormented by all the awful things I'd done. Somewhere along the line, the rewrite of my life

I'd messed up on so many different levels, with so many different people. I should have defended Gwen. I was
going
to. Okay, maybe my response was a little delayed, but I was, for the record, going to say something.

Alex was another story. I'd treated him terribly.

The thought made me want to cry.

To top it all off, Spring Fling-the dance I'd coveted my entire high school career-was quickly becoming the absolute worst night of my life.

After our kiss, Tanner and I were voted King and Queen. Surprise surprise. As we made our way up toward the stage to collect the crowns, the gym dissolved into a mess of howls and whistles, and Tanner hooted and hollered right back. The best I could muster was another superfake grin, which, considering the Skin was now king cobra-tight, required Lance Armstrong-style discipline.

Then I had to dance. With Tanner. All night. After one song, I was covered in sweat. By two, my dress was more mud than fabric. And I spent most of the third composing a nasty complaint to

And I couldn't stop fiddling with the crown. Not only did it look like it had been fished out of a Happy Meal, clearly the thing hadn't been designed with curly hair in mind. No matter how hard I tugged, my frizz kept forcing it up into a jaunty angle that would've been perfect if I'd been wearing a beret-which, of course, I wasn't.

"Keystone?" Tanner said scornfully, eyeing a label. "Stuff tastes like weasel piss."

Jules giggled, which I'd learned was her standard "cute boy" response. Since I had no thoughts on, or interest in, the weasel's urinary tract, I opted for silence.

"Listen, grab me a cup, okay, babe?" Tanner said. Because of the "babe," I was pretty sure the request was meant for me, but it was hard to tell since he was already en route to the kitchen. "I'm gonna go help those boys with the tap." He shook his head forlornly. "They've got, like, no clue, you know?"

I had to get out of there.

"I think I'm gonna go," I told Jules.

She gaped at me. "But we just got here."

"I know, but I'm really tired." I faked a yawn. "The dance really wore me out."

"But what about Tanner?"

"He's a big boy. He can get his own cup."

Jules tried again. "But you're gonna miss
everything."

I shrugged. "I'll live."

"Okay," she said reluctantly. "I'll call you tomorrow and give you a full rundown."

Don't bother,
I thought.
I don't want to know.

It was true, I realized suddenly. I didn't care about missing the party. I didn't care about who said what and who hooked up with whom. I just wasn't interested.

"Thanks," I said as I pushed my way toward the front door. I considered telling Tanner I was leaving but decided to skip it. He was in the kitchen, surrounded by beer and jocks. He'd be fine. More than fine.