long piece around my index finger. “Not lately.”
“It looks nice.” When he smiled, my gaze was drawn to his mouth. I’d never noticed what nice lips Colin had. Carly had told me many times that he was an amazing kisser. As far as I knew—and, believe me, I would have been told otherwise—that’s as far as they’d ever gone together.
I moved a little closer to him. “Are you wearing a new cologne?”
He shrugged. “Just soap.”
I pulled myself out of my sudden daze to glance over my shoulder at Carly, who was currently out of earshot. However, she was still giving me the eye. The eye that asked, Why are you smelling my ex-boyfriend?
I cleared my throat. “I need to go. Uh, I’ll see you in class tomorrow, okay?”
He nodded. “Bright and early.”
I turned and walked over to Carly. She put down the magazine she’d been pretending to read. Her cheeks were flushed, which told me she was upset but trying to control her emotions.
“Sorry,” I said.
“Don’t be sorry.” She sent a sneer in the direction of Colin, who’d rejoined his friends on the other side of the theater. “The fact that he’s still breathing isn’t your fault.”
“He really wants you to forgive him.”
“Did he say that?”
“Well, not just now, but it’s implied.”
Her lips thinned. “When he dies, I promise to put flowers on his grave. How’s that?”
“It’s a start.”
I wasn’t certain if Carly was still upset because she really loved Colin or if it was something else. Personally I think what had happened stung so much because he was the first guy to pursue a relationship with her. She tended to hide a bit, feeling fat—which she totally wasn’t—and not thinking she was good enough to catch a hot guy. I knew at least two other guys who’d be happy to ask her out if she’d give them half a chance. Instead, she wallowed. Which was fine, since I was a bit of a wallower myself.
Carly grimaced, her gaze locked on something over my shoulder. “Brace yourself for impact. Jordan’s on her way over here and she looks pissed.”
I tensed up.
Jordan Fitzpatrick and I had been friends for three whole weeks in ninth grade drama class, until we’d started to like the same boy—one who hadn’t liked me in return and had proven this by laughing in my face when he learned about my feelings. He hadn’t liked Jordan, either, so she blamed me for the rejection. She’d then decided that she hated me. Because that made sense.
She’d just exited a neighboring theater with some of her equally unpleasant friends and was headed our way.
Nearly six feet tall with flame-red hair and a few scattered freckles on her nose, Jordan was easily the most beautiful girl in school. I knew from our short friendship that she wanted to be a model. A top model, of course, following in her mother’s footsteps. Her mom currently starred in a soap opera down in Los Angeles, and Jordan had stayed here in Trinity with her father to finish school.
She’d been pursuing the modeling goal every waking moment that she wasn’t at school, and so far she’d failed miserably at it. Just because you were gorgeous and tall didn’t mean you were also photogenic.
Did I mention she hated me?
“I heard what you did at Crave on Friday night, you slut,” she snapped.
“Great to see you, too, Jordan,” I said.
“Julie said you were throwing yourself at him.”
My stomach sank, but I tried to look confused. “Throwing myself at who?”
Her green eyes narrowed. “My boyfriend.”
“Stephen Keyes is not your boyfriend,” Carly interjected. “Not anymore.”
Jordan’s mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?”
Oh, crap. I’d totally forgotten the rumors that Jordan and Stephen had dated over the summer.
Carly might not have a great deal of self-confidence when it came to standing up for herself, but when it involved protecting me, she did a great impression of a cute blonde pit bull. “From what I’ve heard, he dumped you last week, right? Sounds like he wanted
Steve Miller, Sharon Lee and Steve Miller