Cut Both Ways by Mesrobian Carrie

Author:Mesrobian,Carrie
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2015-04-05T16:00:00+00:00

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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FOURTEEN

THE NIGHT ANGUS and DeKalb’s band plays, and Brandy’scoming. Because her friend Shania is all into DeKalb lately.There’s nothing I can do to talk her out of it, because then she’d ask why and I can’t explain that, either. And I can’t get out of helping my friends.

I can barely eat any dinner. Kristin looks at me sadly. Garrett is preoccupied with something on his phone. I take my plate to the dishwasher pretty quick and thank Kristin for the food that I didn’t really eat.

It gets worse, though. Brandy calls to say that she’s told her aunt that she’s staying at Shania’s. She tells me I should tell my mom I’m staying DeKalb’s house or something.

“Then we can be together,” she says. “All night, even. And Shania knows of a guy whose parents are out of town; DeKalb knows him. Maybe you do, too? Just a sec . . .”

I listen to her ask Shania what the guy’s name is, even though I already know. Jack’s parents are in San Francisco for the weekend. He’s not having a party but has invited some people over later. “A select, specific few,” he said, which made me want to kick him in the face.

“Jack Telios,” she says. “You know him?”

The coffee place is in a strip mall by an Olive Garden and a bunch of other little shops. A nail place, a dry cleaner, a dollar store, a Radio Shack. The kind of place nobody hangs out at, really; you just run in and do your errands and leave. It’s kind of embarrassing—this is where they’re playing?

Angus has parked his mom’s Escalade out in front of the coffee place when I get there; right away, though I’m not late, I feel a little shitty. DeKalb and him are already unloading their gear.

“But it’s just this bass and one amp?” I ask. Now I’m pissed; they hardly need any help.

“The keyboards are heavy, though; everyone else isn’t here yet,” Angus says. He looks at me just a second too long and then DeKalb butts in the way and we start unloading the stuff and dragging it inside the coffee place.

I feel the zinging again. My stomach is growling but I don’t feel hungry. I look at Angus, at how his jeans slide low, how his boxers stick up when he bends over. I remember touching him and I feel sick. I feel sick because I like to look at him. I want to touch him. I know him, I think, but then I don’t know him, either. It’s been a lot of years since we talked about our hopes and dreams, our favorite colors. Not that we have favorite colors. Maybe he does. I just have colors I don’t like. Purple and red and yellow. Angus mostly wears black and white. Angus smells like aftershave and deodorant; he uses the same deodorant as me. I want to touch his chest. Angus wants to go to college and major in art; he’s been working on applications since last spring.

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