Between Friends Read Free Page A

house.
    “Nobody lives here?” he asked.
    She shook her head, nervous about the time. Her mom was going to call her cell—and there it was. She jumped to answer, suddenly embarrassed about the ringtone. God, the Jonas Brothers? Ugh. She should have found some rap, something harder, older.
    “Hey, Mom.”
    “Hi, sweetie. Are you on your way?”
    “Yeah, Mrs. Hailey was a few minutes late. I’m walking home now.”
    “Okay, see you soon.”
    “Okay, bye.” She slid the phone closed.
    “She trippin’?”
    Letty shrugged. “No, I’m just later than I said I’d be.”
    Okay, she knew. But she loved it when he talked like that. She knew it was stupid, to love how someone talked, especially because she knew her parents would hate it. And she knew that was supposedly why she loved it, but it wasn’t.
    She didn’t want them to disapprove of him; she already knew they would.
    He wasn’t trying to sound tough, he just was. He was so tough, and he was so hot, and she swore to God if he wanted to do it, she thought she would. There were times, late at night, that if he showed up in her room she wouldn’t even wait for him to make a move.
    She’d always thought she’d wait until she was at least fifteen, but she hadn’t counted on Seth, that was for sure. He hadn’t really done anything, gone too far or pushed her. She thought that, if anything, maybe she was pushing too far. Besides, she’d be fifteen in just a couple of weeks.
    He pulled her toward him and she let him, sliding her rear over the center console. It wasn’t at all comfortable—the emergency brake bit hard into her hip—but she never noticed after a few minutes. She had a bruise from it last week, like a brand, and she pressed it at night, liking the dull pain of it.
    “Here,” he murmured, reaching around her waist, pulling her up so her head almost brushed the roof. She had no idea what he was doing. But then he pulled her hip across him, and she got it, and pivoted, swinging her leg up over his lap and settling down on top of him, so they were face to face, her rear against the steering wheel.
    It wasn’t like anything could really happen. She wasn’t wearing a skirt, she was wearing jeans, and so was he, but when he pulled her up close to him, oh.
    Oh . . . wow.

CORA

    The wind was from the west, less than six miles an hour, in Puerto Aysen, Chile. It was a good night to fly, and I was ready to go. Drew and Dr. Cho waited for me in Seattle, but the final destination on my ticket was Ft. Myers, Florida. By the time I arrived in Naples, Drew would just be arriving at work, hours before he would have to leave to pick me up from the airport. My itinerary change wouldn’t be of any practical inconvenience for him.
    The emotional inconvenience would be more difficult to overcome, and though I dreaded the inevitable confrontation, it didn’t make me consider changing my mind. The wind shifted direction slightly, and I breathed deeply, careful to not move as it lifted the edge of my skirt, toyed with the ends of my hair. I considered turning slowly, allowing the wind to slip across my shoulders, tease my ankles, but I knew there were students watching from behind the tall windows of the center.
    I knew that they made fun of me—my long hippie hair, the music of multiple bracelets, the gauzy skirts that lifted and floated around me with each breeze.
    They called me Dr. Stevie Nicks.
    I shouldn’t have known about the nickname, but I did. And maybe I shouldn’t have been amused by it or liked it, but I was, and I did.
    They didn’t understand that these bits, these extensions of me, my air-buoyed clothing, the hair I rarely trimmed so the ends would get wispy and thin, were scientific instruments. I felt the changes in the air through each hair lifted—how much, how long, how high—through each sleeve tugged, each hemline that tickled my calves.
    I had stopped being self-conscious about my perceived eccentricities years ago. I vacillated