siobhan vivian - not that kind of girl (14 page)

I had just turned on my car when Spencer knocked on the window, her arms wrapped around herself. She wasn't wearing a coat, even though there were hardly any leaves left on the tree branches. "Hey, Natalie. Do you think I could get a ride home? My mom got stuck at work, and the next bus won't come for at least an hour." "Sure," I said, and leaned over to click my passenger-side door open. The gesture sparked a sad sensory memory. It felt like forever since I'd done that for someone. "Thanks!" Spencer settled into the seat and slammed the door. Her teeth were chattering, and she started rubbing her bare legs. I cranked up the heat and pointed all the vents at her. "I owe you big-time," she said. After Ms. Bee's lecture, I wasn't really in the mood to talk. Luckily, Spencer was in a chatty mood, and she gossiped about a bunch of people in between giving me directions to her apartment building. I didn't have to say much. And then, peering at my neck, Spencer teased, "So...have you gotten any more bug bites lately?" It was weird. Instead of being defensive, I thought about telling Spencer everything. And I would have, if it wasn't Connor I was kissing. First of all, Spencer had liked Connor. She'd worn his name on her Rosstitute shirt. I didn't think she still had feelings for him, but I wasn't positive. Plus, I didn't exactly trust Spencer's discretion. All she'd need to do was tell one person, and the secret would be out. I'd look like the biggest hypocrite in the world. Which I guess I kind of was. But then I remembered what Autumn had said to me in the hallway. She'd moved on, made new friends. Why was I so intent on keeping Spencer at arm's length? She'd proven herself to me more than a few times. And whether I liked it or not, Spencer understood boys in a way that I didn't. "All right. I am seeing someone," I said, casually. And then quickly added, "He's not from around here." If not for her seat belt, Spencer might have popped straight out of her seat. "I knew it! Oh, my God, tell me everything about him! Is he cute? I bet he is so cute." I turned to her and smiled. So many adjectives filled my mouth. But I could see Spencer's apartment building looming ahead. I didn't want to drop her off. It felt so good to have a girlfriend. Why hadn't I done this weeks ago? So when I braked for a stop sign, I turned to her and asked, "Do you maybe want to go grab a bite to eat? My treat." Spencer grinned from ear to ear. She looked grateful, as if she were lucky to receive such an invitation from me. I drove us to what used to be Autumn and my favorite diner, which was an old-timey steel trailer with a handful of tables and a bright-pink neon sign. The place was pretty empty since it was still a few hours from dinnertime. Our waitress let us have our pick of seats, and Spencer opted for the last booth on the right. We had a view of the parking lot and our own push-button jukebox stocked with oldies. Spencer dug for quarters to give us a soundtrack. We each ordered a Coke and a crock of onion soup baked over with a bubbling cheese canopy, and we shared a plate of perfectly crispy fries drowning in gravy. I was so incredibly happy. Spencer gladly let me yammer on and on about a slightly altered version of Connor. I kept lots of the details the same. How handsome he was, how he was attracted to the fact that I was such a smart and strong girl. The only thing I changed were the details on how we'd met--my new boyfriend had been my tutor in an SAT prep class, a brilliant college freshman. "So, what's the issue?" Spencer asked. "He sounds great." Hearing her say that made my heart hurt. Connor and I were so close to perfect, but still so far. "We're just...very different people," I said. "And?" "And nothing. I don't see us having a future. We're like...wasting each other's time." Spencer's face wrinkled. "What do you mean, future? You're not going to be one of those girls who gets married at eighteen, are you?" "What?" I said, grabbing another napkin. "No! Of course not." "Well, then, what kind of future are you talking about?" I thought of our cold little shed. "He's transferring to another college after Christmas. And I don't want to get attached." Spencer dabbed her fry into a pool of ketchup. "You won't get attached," she said, matter-of-factly. "I won't?" "No. Because you already know you can't. It's mind over matter, Natalie. You can't get attached, so don't get attached. It's as easy as that." "Oh." "Get what you can out of it. I mean, if spending time with him makes you happy, do it. Don't overthink things. Remember, you've got the power. He wants to be with you. You're the one in charge." Somehow I managed to nod. Spencer clearly had her sexuality in check. She could turn it off or on, depending on what, or who, she wanted. But I was the complete opposite. I didn't feel like the one in charge. Though it wasn't like Connor was in charge, either. The recklessness was leading both of us. "Don't get quiet on me now, Natalie. I want details!" "Like what?" "You know!" Spencer wiggled her pinky at me. "What does that mean?" "Haven't you seen all the girls do this in the hallway?" She wiggled her pinky again, but I was still clueless. "I invented a hand gesture for Mike Domski. It means teeny peeny, and it's caught on like wildfire." I winced. "Oh, God!" "Yeah, I know. I've always had my suspicions, and my movie theater prank proved I was right. It's sad, but makes total sense if you think about it. I mean, Mike drives the biggest SUV in the school parking lot!" She laughed a little and then pointed to her lap. "So your guy is all good down there?" I fidgeted in my seat. "Yeah. I mean, I don't know. It's normal, I guess." "Well, is he good in bed?" "What?!" Spencer pursed her lips. "Don't be coy with me. I'm not a little kid anymore." "Spencer, I'm not sleeping with him." She stared me down, as if I were lying. "I'm a virgin." And then I looked around for our waitress. After all, we weren't even eating anymore. Just talking. Spencer looked confused. "Like a total sex virgin? Or a straight-up intercourse virgin? Because I haven't had complete sex with anyone before, either, though I've done lots of other stuff." I grabbed my soda glass. It was empty, but I still sucked down a big gulp of melted ice because I didn't want to talk about this anymore. Because I was picturing Spencer in her Rosstitute shirt, and then in her Halloween costume, and whatever she had to do to convince Mike Domski to whip it out in a movie theater. And I didn't want to be that kind of girl. I switched the subject to student council, and how much pressure I was under with the Thanksgiving food baskets. The stress gripped me tighter. Spencer listened to every word as intently as the sex stuff, which was somewhat of a relief. After we finished our food, I drove Spencer back home. "I'm here for you, Natalie," she said as I pulled up in front of her building. "If you need extra help with the baskets, or if you just want to talk, let me know." I said, "Thanks," only because I would need her help with the baskets. But Spencer and I weren't going to have another conversation like this again. Part of me thought Spencer was a smart girl. And the other part of me thought she was a fourteen-year-old Rosstitute who knew even less than I did. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE That night, we were only a few feet away from the shed before I pivoted and started walking in the opposite direction. I didn't know why. It wasn't like I had all the time in the world. My parents had gone to bed late, which kept me from sneaking out at a respectable hour. And I couldn't stay long, not with the huge trig test the next morning that I'd hardly studied for. I needed a decent night's sleep. I'd told Connor exactly that on the phone. I had maybe an hour tops. It might not even be worth it. He'd said to come anyway. So I did. And even though he knew tonight would be rushed, Connor didn't say anything about it, about me not going right to the shed. The first time I came to the farm at night, everything seemed pretty spooky--the darkness, strange noises from the woods. But I felt comfortable here now. I walked around like it was daytime. My eyes took almost no time to adjust to the night once my headlights clicked off. The gift shop sat a few feet in front of me, so I headed that way. I'd always wanted a closer look at it. "Mom had it built two years ago. She thought we should sell souvenirs. In fact, it was her idea that we open the farm year-round, instead of just at Christmas. She's got a real business mind." Connor slouched against a porch post. "You'd like her," he added. Hearing that made me happy. But only for a second, because I wasn't sure Mrs. Hughes would like me back. Not if she knew how many nights I'd sneaked onto her property to fool around with her son while she and her husband were sleeping. No mother in her right mind would like that kind of girl. That was the worst part of all, really: knowing better, but doing it anyway, no matter how deeply it went against the kind of person I was. I cupped my hands around my eyes to peer through a window at a stack of shelves. Mason jars sat in perfect rows. Handwritten labels proclaimed strawberry jam, apple butter, and pumpkin pie filling in charmingly perfect penmanship. Each one had a scrap of fabric tied over the lid with a piece of twine. Red gingham, like summertime picnic tablecloths. "She makes everything herself, with fresh ingredients from her garden. Some fancy bakery in the city even started selling her stuff." Connor leaned into me from behind, his body blocking me from the night chill. He rested his chin on my shoulder and looked inside, too. Together, our breath fogged the glass. "You wouldn't believe what some people are willing to pay for this stuff." My mind flashed with an idea. A big one. I spun around and faced him. "Connor! You know what? Your family should donate something for my Thanksgiving baskets! We'd only need like twenty jars. Possibly thirty, if you could spare them. By Wednesday." Connor started kissing my neck, and I closed my eyes and breathed. He'd shaved just before I got there. I knew because his cheeks were unbelievably smooth. That, and from the smell of his aftershave, woodsy and spicy and warm. After a few kisses, I ducked out from underneath him. I couldn't let myself get sidetracked. I'd been slacking off on the Thanksgiving baskets. I'd been slacking off on everything. "Seriously, Connor. Are you listening to me?" "I'm seriously distracted," he said, coming closer. My hands went right to my hips. "There are a lot of families in Liberty River who have nothing. They can't afford a Thanksgiving turkey, never mind all these fancy jellies. Don't you think you should give something back to people less fortunate than you? Isn't that only right?" He nudged his chin in the direction of the shed. "Come on, Sterling. It's freezing." I didn't move. And I didn't feel cold. I was starting to boil. "You know, it would be nice if you helped me out. Honestly, it's the least you could do." He pulled the hood of his jacket up over his head. "What's that supposed to mean?" "Well, let's see," I said, sarcastic. "You're not the one driving across town almost every night. You just roll out of bed and find me here, waiting. Your grades aren't suffering. You don't have to worry about falling asleep in your classes." Just hearing myself say these things out loud made me even madder. Connor looked at me blankly, like none of this had occurred to him before. I pointed at him. "You don't have to do any of the work or put in any effort to get something out of this arrangement." Connor rubbed his hands together. The tips of his fingers were turning red with cold. "Are you saying you want me to sneak over to your place?" "No, Connor!" That was the last thing I wanted--to be with him someplace where we could actually get caught. Connor didn't think about those things. He didn't have to. "It's different for you. You don't have to worry about college, keeping up your grades. I'm really stressed out by this food drive. Stuff like that doesn't magically come together. It takes hard work, effort, time. And I need people to help me." I knew I sounded annoyed with him, but why wouldn't Connor just agree to get me some of this stuff for my baskets? Didn't he want to help me? He shook his head, wounded. "So basically, I should give you a bunch of jellies because you come over here to fool around with me? Like payment?" "What? No! That's not what I'm saying!" Even though maybe it was. All my muscles wound up tight, from my toes up to my jaw. "And I really don't appreciate you insinuating as much. I'm not some slut from school. You can't buy me off with jelly." "Maybe you should go home," he said, drawing curved lines in the gravel with the toe of his running sneaker. "Call me crazy, but I don't see us having much fun tonight." I wanted to smack him. "Huh. That's funny! Because about an hour ago, I said I shouldn't come over, but you talked me into it." "I didn't talk you into anything, Sterling. That's a skill I definitely don't have." "Oh? What's that's supposed to mean?" I asked. And then, I thought better of it. "You know what? Forget it. I'm leaving." I said it proud, like I didn't care. Pure, raw spite. But as soon as I started walking back to my car, I felt sick. Connor let me go. He was going to let me drive away. He wasn't going to try to stop me. I wanted to turn around. I wanted to apologize, but I was too proud to do it. I was fumbling for my keys when I heard him come up behind me. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm really stressed out, too. We've got playoffs this Wednesday, and our practices have sucked." He exhaled deeply. "Let's not fight." "Yeah, well. It's a little late for that, huh?" I felt silly and desperate and immature, so much it made my palms sweat. I switched gears fast, to save face, to hide the fact that I expected Connor to care about me and my student council troubles. "And I wasn't trying to take advantage of you, by the way. I figured it would be good publicity for your family. The local paper is sending a photographer over to take pictures as we put the baskets together. I'd make it so the jars were prominently featured, and that your family got a special mention in the article." I waited for Connor to say something, but he stayed quiet. Achingly quiet. And then, before I knew what I was doing, I turned to face him and threaded my thumb through his belt loop. I suddenly wanted him to want me so bad that he'd do anything I said, give me anything I asked for. I wanted to have that power over Connor Hughes. "I'll talk to my mom, okay? I can't promise anything, because like I said, it's expensive stuff, but I'll ask." I tried to say thank you, but my throat got tight. Connor took my hand, the one holding on to his pants, and tucked it in the warm pocket of his jacket. "It's getting late," he said. I barely managed to nod.