“This isn’t your mess, Lily,” Tristan said tiredly. “Go to Spanish. I’ll handle her.”
“Mess?” Miranda said, focusing her rage on him. “You think I’m a mess?” she repeated, her tone sliding up an octave.
The bell rang, breaking up the knot of bystanders, but Miranda didn’t move. She waited, eyes bright with furious tears, for Tristan to deal with her.
“Go,” Tristan repeated to Lily. “I got this.”
Lily turned and went to her class. Behind her, she could hear the two of them arguing. The volume rose steadily until Lily could catch the last retort from all the way down the hall.
“Whatever, Miranda,” Tristan said. “I honestly don’t care about what you think.” Then Lily—and half the student body—heard Miranda slap Tristan across the face.
Lily ducked into her classroom rather than go back and defend Tristan as she might have a few days ago. This wasn’t the first time a girl had slapped her best friend, but it was the first time Lily believed he’d really deserved it.
After school, Lily felt a bit strange getting a ride home from Tristan as she usually did. Having no other option, she waited in the parking lot by his car and grimaced when she saw the hassled look on his face as he came toward to her.
“I could have my mom…” Lily began halfheartedly.
“Your mom? Driving? Like I want innocent blood on my hands,” he said, raising an eyebrow.
“She’d never make it out of the driveway, anyways,” Lily said dryly. “The garage confuses her.”
Tristan unlocked the doors on the Chevy Volt that he kept immaculate for Lily, and they both got in.
“Sorry about today,” he said sincerely. “I didn’t mean to drag you into it.”
“That was some slap. How’s your face?”
He sighed dramatically. “Unfortunately, the nurse said that slap was loaded with cooties.”
Lily sucked in a pained breath. “Cooties. You know what that means?”
“They’ll have to amputate.”
“Girls across the tri-state area will be inconsolable. A national day of mourning is sure to follow.”
He smiled at her lazily, his mouth inches away, eyes locked with hers. Lily desperately wanted to forget the whole thing and kiss his cootie-infested face, but something held her back.
“How’s Miranda?” Lily asked, looking down at her hands.
“How should I know?” Tristan turned back to the steering wheel and started the car. His coldness toward Miranda disturbed her. Was this how Tristan treated every girl he was finished with?
“Do you want me to talk to her?” Lily offered. “I can tell her it was unexpected. That she’s got the wrong idea about us and what happened.”
“Miranda has so many wrong ideas in her head I don’t see how setting her straight about one of them will make any difference. She’s not the sharpest tool in the shed, Lily.” Tristan glanced at the look on Lily’s face while he drove out of the parking lot and knew what she was thinking. “I know, I know,” he said with exasperation. “If I think she’s an idiot, I probably shouldn’t have fooled around with her in the first place, right?”
“She’s a lot younger than us, Tristan. Two years is a big deal,” Lily objected gently.
“I guess.” He sighed. “But trust me, Lily. Miranda’s not some innocent little girl. I didn’t, you know, ruin her or anything.”
“Ruin her? What century is this?” Lily chuckled. Tristan’s lips turned up in a tiny smile. Lily took a second to steel herself for the next question. “Were you still involved with Miranda the other night?”
He rolled his eyes. “She wasn’t my girlfriend. I never made any promises to her, and it was idiotic of her to think we were going to be a couple.”
They drove in silence for a bit.
“Just out of curiosity, how would a girl know if you were going to be a couple?” Lily was reaching—fishing for a commitment from him like she was one of his desperate admirers. She disliked herself for it, and as the silence stretched out, her question hanging like a bad smell in the air, she started to dislike him for not answering her. They pulled into Lily’s driveway, Tristan’s face never even twitching to show that he’d registered what she’d said.
“I’ll pick you up at seven for the party,” he said, then drove off.