Life After Theft
Page 24
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“Sounds like he deserved it.”
“Oh, he did,” she said seriously. “But if Langdon hadn’t been too scared to say anything, he could have made some real trouble for Khail. That’s the kind of stuff no one wants on their record. My brother risked a lot for me when he taught Langdon a lesson.”
I nodded somberly. “But it turned out okay.”
“It did. Langdon has hardly said a word to me since and . . .” She hesitated and then seemed to change her mind. “Let’s just say everyone got what they deserved.”
She smiled up at me, but her smile was tight. “It’s a Harrison Hill tradition now. Someone gets to be the butt of everyone’s drunk humor. It’s . . . not pretty. And I’ve never found out who it was going to be early enough to help. I’m glad I did tonight,” she said, looking up at the sky.
My stomach felt sour again. No wonder she had suddenly paid attention when I said Langdon had invited me.
I had wanted her to think I was cool. She’d known better all along.
She turned toward me and the moon illuminated her pale skin. She had freckles that she probably hated—seems like all girls do—but I liked them. “I’m glad you’re all right. I’m glad Khail was there.”
“So am I,” she said quietly.
The moment felt serious and I considered going in for a kiss, but it seemed too soon after—well, puking up my pride along with the beer and Jell-O. I rubbed my hands through my hair instead, feeling some of the crisply gelled spikes give way to the kind of fuzzy disarray I was used to.
Sera looked up and me and grinned. “You missed a spot,” she said softly. Then she reached up and rubbed my hair, loosening more of the crispy strands. “There,” she said after a few moments. “Much better.”
“Better like this?” I asked.
She nodded and laughed as she plucked at my jean jacket. “And don’t even get me started on your outfit.”
“You don’t like it?” Cue sound effect of my remaining confidence shattering into about seventy billion pieces.
“It’s okay,” she said with a shrug, “I just don’t think it’s you. I mean, when I first saw you, you looked . . . relaxed. Nobody in Santa Monica is relaxed. You were wearing Converse and you looked about as comfortable as you can get in our stupid uniforms. Then something happened—maybe the preppies at Whitestone got to you—but you totally changed. The funky hair, the metro getup.”
“Wait,” I said, and my mind was trying to make a connection I was still just a little too drunk to get at easily. “You noticed me my first day? Like, before I did this to my hair,” I added, pointing at my “ruined” hair.
Sera looked down at her lap, and even in the darkness I saw her cheeks flush. “I’m a front-office TA,” she said evasively. “I notice all the new students.”
Sure she did. “Okay, no more weird,” I said with a smile. “That I can do.”
She ran her fingers across my chin. “This I like, though.”
The stubble. Score!
“It makes you seem more . . .”
“Virile?” I suggested.
“I was thinking more along the lines of laid-back,” Sera said, laughing.
I hesitated, but figured I had nothing to lose by being honest. “I just wanted to impress you tonight.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“No really, I saw you that first time and—”
“The day you thought I was Khail’s girlfriend?” she teased.
I sighed. “I figured you were a popular cheerleader and you’d be into this kind of guy,” I said, gesturing to my outfit.
Sera laughed again and shook her head. “I’m not exactly your typical cheerleader. I don’t even like the actual cheering that much. But it gives me a chance to perform and compete with gymnastics.”
“Can’t you just do that in . . . uh . . . gymnastics?”
She looked away. “It’s kind of complicated. I . . . I was in gymnastics. I was training to be a national competitor, but I took a couple years off right when training is the most crucial. So, basically I got left behind. Catching up isn’t easy; trust me. I have a private coach now, but I don’t compete or anything.” She shrugged and smiled sadly. “Someday I might be good enough to be on a college team, but right now I’m not that great, and it feels weird competing against thirteen-year-olds. So I cheer instead.”
“How come you took that time off if it’s so important?”
Sera waved the question away. “I just did.” We were quiet for a few minutes before I leaned over and bumped her shoulder with mine.
“So you’re really not into the whole trendy-guy thing?” I said.
She shook her head. “Nope.”
I mussed up my hair a little more. “That’s a relief.”
She grinned and looked up at me. “What would you have worn tonight if you hadn’t been trying to impress me?”
“My Luckys. One of my vintage tees. A hoodie. It’s what I usually wear.”
“That’s exactly how I pictured you.”
My head was still spinning, and though I suspected it wasn’t just from the company, I said it anyway—I might never get another chance. “Honestly? I probably wouldn’t have gone to the party at all if you hadn’t agreed to show up.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Oh, he did,” she said seriously. “But if Langdon hadn’t been too scared to say anything, he could have made some real trouble for Khail. That’s the kind of stuff no one wants on their record. My brother risked a lot for me when he taught Langdon a lesson.”
I nodded somberly. “But it turned out okay.”
“It did. Langdon has hardly said a word to me since and . . .” She hesitated and then seemed to change her mind. “Let’s just say everyone got what they deserved.”
She smiled up at me, but her smile was tight. “It’s a Harrison Hill tradition now. Someone gets to be the butt of everyone’s drunk humor. It’s . . . not pretty. And I’ve never found out who it was going to be early enough to help. I’m glad I did tonight,” she said, looking up at the sky.
My stomach felt sour again. No wonder she had suddenly paid attention when I said Langdon had invited me.
I had wanted her to think I was cool. She’d known better all along.
She turned toward me and the moon illuminated her pale skin. She had freckles that she probably hated—seems like all girls do—but I liked them. “I’m glad you’re all right. I’m glad Khail was there.”
“So am I,” she said quietly.
The moment felt serious and I considered going in for a kiss, but it seemed too soon after—well, puking up my pride along with the beer and Jell-O. I rubbed my hands through my hair instead, feeling some of the crisply gelled spikes give way to the kind of fuzzy disarray I was used to.
Sera looked up and me and grinned. “You missed a spot,” she said softly. Then she reached up and rubbed my hair, loosening more of the crispy strands. “There,” she said after a few moments. “Much better.”
“Better like this?” I asked.
She nodded and laughed as she plucked at my jean jacket. “And don’t even get me started on your outfit.”
“You don’t like it?” Cue sound effect of my remaining confidence shattering into about seventy billion pieces.
“It’s okay,” she said with a shrug, “I just don’t think it’s you. I mean, when I first saw you, you looked . . . relaxed. Nobody in Santa Monica is relaxed. You were wearing Converse and you looked about as comfortable as you can get in our stupid uniforms. Then something happened—maybe the preppies at Whitestone got to you—but you totally changed. The funky hair, the metro getup.”
“Wait,” I said, and my mind was trying to make a connection I was still just a little too drunk to get at easily. “You noticed me my first day? Like, before I did this to my hair,” I added, pointing at my “ruined” hair.
Sera looked down at her lap, and even in the darkness I saw her cheeks flush. “I’m a front-office TA,” she said evasively. “I notice all the new students.”
Sure she did. “Okay, no more weird,” I said with a smile. “That I can do.”
She ran her fingers across my chin. “This I like, though.”
The stubble. Score!
“It makes you seem more . . .”
“Virile?” I suggested.
“I was thinking more along the lines of laid-back,” Sera said, laughing.
I hesitated, but figured I had nothing to lose by being honest. “I just wanted to impress you tonight.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“No really, I saw you that first time and—”
“The day you thought I was Khail’s girlfriend?” she teased.
I sighed. “I figured you were a popular cheerleader and you’d be into this kind of guy,” I said, gesturing to my outfit.
Sera laughed again and shook her head. “I’m not exactly your typical cheerleader. I don’t even like the actual cheering that much. But it gives me a chance to perform and compete with gymnastics.”
“Can’t you just do that in . . . uh . . . gymnastics?”
She looked away. “It’s kind of complicated. I . . . I was in gymnastics. I was training to be a national competitor, but I took a couple years off right when training is the most crucial. So, basically I got left behind. Catching up isn’t easy; trust me. I have a private coach now, but I don’t compete or anything.” She shrugged and smiled sadly. “Someday I might be good enough to be on a college team, but right now I’m not that great, and it feels weird competing against thirteen-year-olds. So I cheer instead.”
“How come you took that time off if it’s so important?”
Sera waved the question away. “I just did.” We were quiet for a few minutes before I leaned over and bumped her shoulder with mine.
“So you’re really not into the whole trendy-guy thing?” I said.
She shook her head. “Nope.”
I mussed up my hair a little more. “That’s a relief.”
She grinned and looked up at me. “What would you have worn tonight if you hadn’t been trying to impress me?”
“My Luckys. One of my vintage tees. A hoodie. It’s what I usually wear.”
“That’s exactly how I pictured you.”
My head was still spinning, and though I suspected it wasn’t just from the company, I said it anyway—I might never get another chance. “Honestly? I probably wouldn’t have gone to the party at all if you hadn’t agreed to show up.”
“Oh yeah?”
