Dizzy Read Free Page A

like he wanted to be close to me. His hand closes over mine, and we walk to the door holding hands. Only our fingers aren’t even laced together.
    Alyssa’s sitting on the front porch when we step outside, frowning and looking… well, wasted. James drops my hand as we step out. Alyssa groans, and rests her face on her knees. She and I are in all the same AP classes, and I swear she’s smarter than me but has to do stupid crap like this. The girl just doesn’t know when to stop drinking.
    “I’ll take you home.” James reaches out and half-carries her toward his car. I don’t know how he got a parking spot actually in the driveway. I’m almost a block down the street.
    I glance back at the party and catch rich-boy with his armrest back in place. I can barely see him through the people wandering around between the front door and the kitchen.
    He starts to tip his cup again when our eyes meet, and he freezes. It hits me just like before, in my stomach, this knot of nervous tingles. Even from way out here.
    The armrest looks up at him. He’s still looking at me, and her head starts to turn my way. That’s my cue to move.
    What was that? Why did I have to look back at some spoiled, beer-spilling man-whore? I’m sure he is. I mean, who else dates someone like Chastity? She looked like she was about to audition for a music video. I suck in a breath and almost wish I’d been drinking so I could play off my reaction to him. And my general meanness toward everyone in the room.
    “So, I’ll see you tomorrow?” James asks.
    I jog to his side of the car and stand close, but not so close that I get beer on his shirt. Instead of pressing us together, I touch his stomach through his T-shirt hoping for anything from him.
    He gives me a peck. “Tell your Mom I said hi.”
    “Yep.” I stay close. I’m looking for something more. Some feeling in my chest or in my gut to keep me here, to make us closer. Or even something from him—a touch or a look—something that shows he can’t get enough of me.
    Instead he stands, watching me with the same relaxed smile he always wears. I duck my head into the car. I’m being silly.
    “I’m not ditching you, am I?” I ask Alyssa.
    Her eyes are closed, and her face is pressed against the window. “Nah...” She gestures loosely with her hand. “Your old man will get me home...” Her arm tucks back into her front. She’s done moving.
    I stand back up next to James. “You need to take her in the back door...”
    “I got it.” Then to Alyssa, “Watch my upholstery.”
    “Love you, James.” Give me something to hold onto here.
    “Yeah. Love you, too.” He slides in the driver’s seat, closes the door, and drives away. I’ve barely seen him all week, and he’s gone. Just like that.
    I don’t move. I watch him drive off, wishing for something between us that just isn’t there. Some crazy spark, something, anything...
    But that’s not really what we’re about. We’re comfortable. It’s nice to be comfortable. But if it’s so nice, why does my chest feel heavy? Now I just want to go to Mom’s restaurant and stuff my face. But first I need to dig through her car and see if I can find a shirt that isn’t soaked in beer.
     

 
     
    Three
    ~Dylan~
     
    Hangovers suck. My head is going to explode, my gut aches like I’ve spent too much time in the car with Paul after he eats Taco Bell, and my mouth feels like there’s glue in it. The part that really sucks is it’s my fault. I forgot my own rules. I didn’t follow the happy-buzz plan, drinking way more than I should have once Hanes left. I mean, who gets that pissed over a white T-shirt? Maybe she has stock in the company. The girl has some serious damage, which gives me something else to add to my suckage list. I’m in bed, feeling like a truck ran over me, yet my mind is on her.
    What. The. Hell?
    What did I ever do to her? What kind of person comes to a party with an Oscar the Grouch frown, insults the owner of