Secrets and Lies

“Should probably just forget about it?” I offered. “I mean, we were drinking and talking about wheels and—”

“Actually, I was going to say that I was thinking we should go out,” Toby said. “On a date.”

“Oh.”

“But I guess if you…”

“Toby, I’m sorry,” I said. And I meant it. He was such a nice guy. Like, genuinely nice, not the fake nice a lot of guys pretend to be just so they can play the victim. Toby was wonderful, and he just kept getting crapped on. First B. Now this. I felt terrible.

“No, it’s okay.”

“I really did have a good time with you last night,” I assured him. “I’m not just saying that. But it’s just… it’s weird. You used to date my best friend, and I don’t think she’d be okay with us kissing and going on dates and… I’m sorry.”

“Casey, it’s okay. I get it,” he said.

“Can we still be friends?” I asked. “I know that’s a freaking cliché of a thing to ask, but I’m serious.”

“Sure.” And it sounded like he actually meant it. “We can be friends.”

“Great.” I glanced at my cell phone, lying on the bench beside me. “Oh, shit. I have to go catch the bus.”

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“Cindependent. There’s a French film showing there that I—”

“You’re seeing that, too?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “Wait—you’re going to see it today?”

“I have a ticket to the afternoon showing. I didn’t know you liked foreign films.”

“I didn’t until recently. But I had this French professor this past semester who was just this really awesome woman, and she got me to watch a few French movies, and I’ve been hooked. I’ve tried to convert B and Jess, but it just hasn’t worked.”

“If you’re going right now, then why don’t I drive you?” he offered. “We’re seeing the same movie at the same time. There’s no point in you wasting money on the bus.”

“If you don’t mind, that would be great,” I said. “Public transportation in this town sucks.”

So we went to the theater together. Then we sat together. Then we left the theater together. And when Mom called to ask where I was, I told her Toby would give me a ride home. We were having such a good time talking about the movie that I suggested we grab a bite to eat and continue the conversation. So we did. Toby drove us to—appropriately—a French restaurant, where we sat and gushed about the actors’ abilities and the director’s vision and all that jazz.

And once we were done with that, we just started talking. About everything. Anything.

“Do you still cheerlead?” Toby asked, taking a sip of his water.

I nodded. “Yeah. I’m thinking of quitting, though. It’s not as fun as it used to be, and with my class schedule, I just don’t really have enough time.”

“I know how that is,” he said. “I was playing intramural soccer at the begi

“Student government? Why am I not surprised?”

“I’m a broken record, I know.”

“No. I think it’s great that you have something you’re passionate about. Not everybody has that at our age. I don’t.”

“I guess,” he said. “I just feel like everyone must be so bored when I talk to them.”

“I’m never bored talking to you,” I assured him. “Which is more than I can say about a lot of guys. Especially the ones I dated this semester. Ugh.”

“What happened? If I’m allowed to ask.”

“Nothing, like, dramatic or anything,” I said. “Honestly, a lot of guys are just insecure because I’m taller than they are. I actually went on two dates with this guy Braden. Then one night he called and said, ‘Next time we go out, don’t wear heels.’ He didn’t ask me not to. He told me not to. When I asked why, he said, ‘Because I want to be the man.’ Like… WTF?”

“What did you say?” Toby asked.

“I told him if he was so desperate to be taller than me, he could wear heels. My shoes didn’t make me feel any less like a woman, and it wasn’t my fault if he thought towering over me was the only way to feel manly.”

“He sounds a little like… well, a tool.”

“Oh, he was.”

“I have to admit, I’m surprised,” he said. “I mean, you’re interesting and fun to be around. And you’re beautiful. A guy would be crazy to screw things up with you.”

I felt myself blush. “Thanks, Toby. You’re not so bad yourself.”

Somewhere between that moment and when the waitress came by with the bill, it dawned on me. I’d said no to going on a date with Toby, but here I was, in a nice little restaurant, after seeing a romantic French film, being told I was beautiful by a guy who—I’ll admit it—I really liked. If this wasn’t a date, I didn’t know what was.

So when he pulled up in front of my house an hour later, I knew I should get out of the car. He was my best friend’s ex, and in less than twenty-four hours, I’d made out with him and gone on an accidental date with him. I couldn’t keep seeing Toby, and I didn’t want to lead him on, but at the same time…

“I had a really great time today,” I said. “I’m glad I ran into you.”

“Me too,” Toby said.

We were staring at each other, the streetlights glinting off his glasses. My head was telling me to get out of the damn car. It was buzzing with thoughts like, B will kill you and Don’t do it, don’t do it! But every other part of me wanted my head to shut the fuck up.

Then he smiled at me.

And I knew I was screwed.

I leaned forward and put my hand on his cheek. Toby looked surprised and maybe even a little nervous. But he didn’t stop me when I kissed him. He leaned into me, his lips soft but strong against mine. His hands were on my neck and in my hair, fingers ru

I pushed at the collar of his blazer, shoving it off his shoulders. He wiggled his arms free, then went back to touching me again. It was like his hands couldn’t get enough. And I knew how he felt. My hands were all over him, too, sliding along his back and arms. I even popped a few buttons of his shirt.

“But, Casey,” he muttered, his lips still brushing mine. And for a second I thought he was about to be the moral compass here, telling me to stop because of B and the Girl Code and all that. Instead, he gri

I laughed. “Shut up.”

We kissed in the front seat of his car until my mom started flashing the porch lights, a signal that she knew I was outside, knew I was making out, and thought it was time for the party to end. I sighed and pulled myself away from Toby. His face was red and his lips were swollen. Mine must have been, too.

“I have to go.”

“Okay,” he said.

“I’ll call you.”

“I hope so.”

“Good night, Toby,” I said, smiling.

I climbed out of the car, knowing I was a terrible human being but deciding, just for the night, not to care.

Chapter Three

I’d told Toby I’d call him, but when I woke up the next morning with a guilty conscience, I decided that had been a lie. I couldn’t call him. I wouldn’t call him. We’d made out twice, and that was two times too many. Whatever was going on between Toby and me was over. Dead. Kaput.

Except that it kind of wasn’t.

Fate had a sick, twisted sense of humor. Somehow, I ran into Toby everywhere I went over the next few days. He was in the grocery store when Mom and I came in. He was eating at the tiny diner down the street from my house when I popped in to get some hot chocolate and a scone. Then he walked into the library while I was dropping off some overdue books for Mom. If he didn’t seem so surprised to see me every time, I might have thought he’d tracked me down on purpose. But then, that just wasn’t Toby Tucker.