Eight years ago - Kenna
Istraighten my Wonder Woman headband, stepping out into the dark hallway to escape the heat of the school dance. Monster Mash fades as the gym door shuts behind me. In the relative quiet, I pick up giggles and whispers coming from around the corner.
“Eric?” I call out, hugging myself as I wander down the hall looking for my boyfriend. I don’t have to go far. As soon as I turn the corner, I’m confronted by the sight that has me frozen in my tracks. My boyfriend of nine months has Candace-Bra-Stuffing-Simmons pinned against the painted brick wall, and they look cozy as hell. He peppers obnoxiously loud kisses over her lips and neck while she laughs, rubbing her hips against the front of his foam-muscled Superman costume.
What. The. Fuck.
Anger and disbelief flash through me, hot and fast, before burning out, leaving me numb all over. I clear my throat, and they both jump. Eric spots me first and reels back from Candace like she’s made of snakes. He stares at me for a long second with his stupid mouth gaping like a fish.
“Baby, I didn’t mean to--”
Candace pouts at Eric as he steps toward me. I glare at him and hold out my hand. If he gets any closer, I can’t guarantee I won’t kick him square in the nuts.
“Don’t bother. I’m done.” I wheel around, heading for the first door I can find. The October chill hits me as I step outside and goosebumps raise over a lot of exposed skin. Not for the first time, I’m annoyed at Wonder Woman for her skimpy costume. It’s obvious a man designed this thing, because I don’t think many women would choose to fight crime in a bustier and a miniskirt.
Next year, I’m going as something with full coverage. A grizzly bear maybe? Banana suits look pretty warm. I wrap my arms around myself as I head toward the parking lot, only to remember that I didn’t drive myself. And unless I want to go back inside and ask the cheater to drive me home, I need a ride.
Tears start rolling down my face. It’s not that I’m heartbroken, or really even surprised by the betrayal. I’m mad, embarrassed, and to add insult to injury, I’m stuck here.
“Happy sucky birthday to me,” I mutter through tears as I pull my flip phone out of my gold boot. I may be eighteen, but I don’t feel very adult right now. There’s nothing quite as humbling as getting stuck at school, even if it is just a dance. My parents are out of the country—what else is new?—so I try my brother, Dean. The phone rings and goes to voicemail. I hang up and try every other person I can think of before circling back around to Dean. This time, a gravelly voice picks up.
“Kenna?” Yeah… that is not my brother.
“Um… hi. Who is this?”
“Hey, sorry. It’s Jonas.”
Fan-fucking-tastic. I bat at the tears on my face, biting hard on my shaking lower lip. Stop crying right now, I order myself.
“I guess Dean left his phone at my place when he swung by earlier,” Jonas is saying. “Everything okay?”
I take a deep breath, trying like hell to hold back the waves of sobs that threaten to break from my throat. When that doesn’t work, I try to muffle the sound with my hand over the speaker.
Let’s just pile on the humiliation tonight. I really don’t want to ask my brother’s sexy-as-sin best friend for a ride. He already makes me feel like a kid every chance he gets.
But going back inside with mascara all over my face or walking four miles without a coat or sensible shoes are even worse options.
“You have a car, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Can you come get me?”
I can already hear keys jingling in the background as he answers. “Yeah. You’re at the school?”
“Yes,” I mumble, miserably.
“I’m on the way. Meet you up front?” An engine revs in the background.
“Yeah, I’m already out here.”
“It’s freezing, go wait inside.” He issues the words like a demand.
“No—I can’t. I’m fine. I’ll see you in a few.”
He growls, but I hang up before he can boss me around. Not a chance in hell I’m setting foot back in that building tonight.
Five minutes later, Jonas is slamming on his brakes right in front of me. He’s out of the little red car and ripping his jacket off his shoulders before I can even say ‘hi’. He wraps it around my shoulders and holds it tight, scowling down at me the whole time. I try like hell not to breathe in the scent that clings to his jacket, warm and boy and…