End Times (14 page)

Trey blushed furiously, refusing to meet her eyes.

“Wait a minute,” she asked slowly, putting the pieces together: Janie’s guilty looks and Trey’s button-down shirt, the surprise detour up the mountain. “Are they trying to set us up?”

The silence unfurled around them, rolling away into the darkness. “Uh, yeah,” Trey admitted finally. “At least, that’s what they told me. Is that not what they told you?”

“No,” Daphne sighed. She couldn’t believe she’d let her cousin trick her.

“Wow.” Trey sucked air in through his nose and ran a hand through his hair, messing up the carefully combed strands. “Well, this is awkward.”

“Seriously.” Daphne paced back and forth, her hands shoved deep in the pockets of her cargo pants. “I can’t believe they didn’t even tell me.”

“Uh, yeah. That’s pretty weak,” Trey agreed. “Do you, uh, want a beer or something? All my soda’s in my truck,” he added apologetically.

“I guess I’ll have a beer,” Daphne muttered.

Trey rummaged in the cooler and fished out a pair of Keystones. He opened both and handed her one. “Cheers?”

She hoisted herself onto the tailgate and settled in at one end. After a moment, Trey joined her. They sipped silently, watching the sunset turn purple over the mountains. There really was something romantic about being alone on the mountaintop, the day coming to a spectacular close all around them. For a moment, she found her thoughts drifting to Owen, to the way he made her skin go hot when he looked at her and the strange occurrence with the oil that seemed to have turned to blood on his skin. If he were up there with her, would they be sitting silently, drinking beer and wondering what to say? She shook her head quickly, trying to chase away the thought. Owen was her coworker, and maybe her friend. Anything else was more trouble than she was ready for.

“Are you okay?” Trey asked after a while.

“Huh?” she asked.

He fiddled with the tab on his beer can. “You were scowling.”

“Sorry.” Daphne forced herself to smile. “It’s not you. Trust me.”

“I really am sorry about all this,” Trey said. “I mean, if I’d known you didn’t know, obviously I wouldn’t have agreed to it. I just, well . . .”

He trailed off and looked down at his shoes.

“What?” Daphne asked.

Trey took a long swig of beer. “I was psyched that it seemed like you liked me,” he said in a rush.

Daphne twisted her fingers in her lap, searching for the right words. She felt terrible for leading Trey on, even though she’d never been anything but friendly, even though she’d
told
Janie she wasn’t up for a double date. It was just more proof that dealing with guys—
any
guy—was way too complicated.

“It’s totally not you,” she said. “It’s me.” She knew the words were a cliché, but she couldn’t think of any others. Someone else, someone who had experience with guys, might know what to say. But not her.

“I know what that means,” Trey said darkly. “It means it’s me.”

“No!” She shook her head vehemently. “It’s really not. You’re a nice guy, and you’re cute. I just—I’ve been through some kind of rough stuff with guys. Honestly, going on dates or being touched or even just being alone with a guy kind of freaks me out.”

It was the closest she could come to explaining the panic that rose in her chest whenever someone got too close, the irrational but inescapable fear that whoever it was would turn into Jim and pin her down, not letting her go until he’d taken everything she had.

She forced herself to look at Trey. He shook his head slowly, his eyes heavy with pity. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That really sucks.”

“Yeah.” Daphne kicked her heels angrily against the truck’s mud flaps. “It really does.”

“Well, uh, look.” Trey’s hand hovered over her knee before he brought it down heavily on his own. “You think I’m cute, and I think you’re really pretty, and cool, and . . . like, interesting. I know you’re not into having a boyfriend or whatever now, but if you ever change your mind . . .”

“Thanks.” Daphne tried to smile, but it stuck in her throat. “I really appreciate it. But don’t hold your breath.”

“O-
kay
.” Trey’s voice was iced over with hurt, and she realized her words had probably come out wrong.

Somewhere deep in the woods, an owl hooted. Trey hopped off the tailgate, set his empty beer can on the ground, and stomped it hard. Instead of crushing flat, it went flying from under his foot, landing several feet away with a tinny plink.

“Damn it!” he cursed, running after it and tossing it angrily into the truck.

After watching him pace back and forth across the clearing, not meeting her eyes, Daphne couldn’t take it anymore. She put two fingers in her mouth and whistled, the sound splitting the air and sending what sounded like a whole colony of small, furry creatures scuttling toward the underbrush.

Trey glanced at her, startled. “What was that for?”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to go. Those two have a whole lifetime to fool around.” She wanted it to come out light and funny, to make him crack a smile, but it was a lost cause. He was pissed at her—and she’d never been one of those girls who could smooth it all over with a joke.

The bushes rustled, and Doug and Janie emerged, adjusting their clothes and grinning sheepishly.

“You rang?” Janie asked, slipping on her flip-flop. She looked from Daphne to Trey. When she saw the expression on his face, her smile faltered.

“Yeah,” Daphne agreed. “You’re right, the view up here is awesome, but it’s dark now.” She looked Doug in the eye, daring him to contradict her. “I think we should go.”

JUDGING from the look on Daphne’s face, Janie guessed she could forget her dreams of someday being a celebrity matchmaker with her own reality TV show. Her cousin and Trey were as far away from each other as possible, faces bitter as a box of Sour Patch Kids.

“Well!” she said brightly, trying to scrape the best out of the situation. “It’s just about time to head over to the track anyway. You guys don’t want to miss the meet, do you?”

Trey nodded slowly. He was brooding the way Doug used to when they first started dating, before she’d let him go all the way. The way he still did sometimes, even when she did.

Anxiety knotted in her gut as the truck crawled back down the mountain, headlights piercing the wooded gloom. She knew Doug wouldn’t say anything in front of their friends, but later on he’d lord it over her about how he was right about Daphne: She was a cold fish who thought she was too good for everyone, even Trey. Janie had brushed him off the first time, thinking he was just being his usual better-than-everyone self. He’d met Daphne exactly once, so what did he know? But now that Daphne had obviously blown off Trey, Doug would never let Janie forget it.

As the truck bounced down the last of the mountain trail and turned onto Buzzard Road, Doug hummed along off-key with the radio, taking big gulps of the beer nestled between his knees. She could tell he was in a great mood, and she just bet it was because he was planning to let her have it later:
PS, babe, I was right and you were wrong
.

The floodlights were already on when they reached the motocross track, the parking lot bright and buzzing like a beehive. Janie loved Friday nights at the track—it always felt like a little nucleus where all the town’s energy came together to race in circles, creating the sparks and friction that would power them through the rest of the week. And being there with Doug Varley was like being the queen of the hive.

Doug honked his horn and stuck a hand out the window in greeting. But when he rolled up to his parking space, he stopped short. There was already a truck there, a stranger with inky black hair bent over the ratchet straps holding an old Husqvarna in place.

“Hey!” Doug leaned his head out the window. “You’re parked in my spot.”

The stranger’s head snapped up, meeting Doug’s gaze with a pair of icy green eyes. Next to her in the backseat, Daphne froze. What was with her, anyway? She’d been acting cranky and weird ever since they left the trailer.

“I didn’t realize it was your spot. Is there a sign?”

The back of Doug’s neck turned an angry red. “There doesn’t need to be. Everyone around here knows it. Who
are
you, man?”

The stranger shrugged. “I’m new in town.”

Doug took a long swill of his beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “And if you want to stay here, you’ll park somewhere else.”

The stranger looked annoyed, as if it was Doug encroaching on his territory instead of the other way around. “Come on, I’ve already got my bike halfway off,” he said. “How about you drive approximately twenty feet and park over there? If you’ve got a problem, we can settle it on the track.”

Without giving Doug another thought, he turned and finished untying his bike, thick black hair glistening with indifference as Doug fumed in the driver’s seat.

“He’s asking for it,” Doug muttered under his breath.

Daphne opened her mouth to say something, but Janie shot her a
look
. If anyone could handle this, it was her: She’d been dealing with Doug’s moods since they’d started dating sophomore year.

“You’ll show him good on the track,” she said reassuringly, reaching around the seat to rub his shoulders. “And then we’ll get a sign that says ‘Doug’s Parking Only’ and put it up right there, and everyone will know what’s what. Okay?”

Doug’s face was still dark, but he put the truck in gear and pulled into an empty parking space a few feet away. “I hope he knows what’s coming to him,” he glowered. He swigged the last of his beer and tossed the can out the window.

“Hey, you gonna be a gentleman and help me out, or what?” Janie asked.

She waited for him to offer his arm, then planted a big, wet kiss on his mouth. “I love you,” she reminded him. Then she whispered in his ear: “And I can’t wait to finish what we started in the woods earlier. Rawr!” She made her hand into a fake kitty claw and pretended to scrape it down his chest.

He drew her close, his body big and powerful against hers in that way that always made her weak. “I’ll make you see stars,” he growled in her ear, his stubble scratching up her chin. Then he bit her earlobe so hard she shrieked.

“Watch it!” she cried, rubbing her ear.

But Doug had already let her go. She watched him amble off, wishing he’d stayed and held her just a few moments longer—biting and all. She knew Jesus probably wouldn’t approve, but she secretly kind of liked PDAs: They showed the world that she and Doug were together and that they didn’t care who knew it.

Doug joined the knot of people passing around a bottle of Jack Daniels over by Bryce’s truck.

“Lemme see that,” he said. Trey handed it over, wiping a small trail of whiskey off his chin. His eyes were already a little glassy, and as he talked she could see the group sneaking glances over their shoulders. She wondered if they were talking about Daphne. Had Trey decided she was a cold fish, too? She didn’t understand how guys’ brains worked sometimes. Sure, Daphne didn’t exactly wear her heart on her sleeve, and maybe she hadn’t gone for Trey the way Janie had hoped, but she was still a nice person. They just needed to learn to be more accepting—and probably pay a little more attention in church.

Where had Daphne even gone, anyway? She looked around for her cousin, hoping to get her into a corner somewhere and find out exactly what had gone down with Trey. She wasn’t in the group hanging out by Bryce’s tailgate—they’d all given up trying to sneak glances over their shoulders and were staring openly at something over by the track.

She followed their gazes, and her heart sank. There was Daphne, all right—standing at the front of the parking lot, twisting a strand of hair around her finger as she smiled at that jerk who had taken Doug’s parking spot.

• • •

“I’M sorry about Doug,” Daphne said. She couldn’t believe he’d already managed to make an ass of himself in front of Owen. “He can be such a jerk.”

Owen shrugged. “I’m used to it. There’s a lot of testosterone around motocross tracks. I don’t take it personally.”

“I wish I felt that way,” she sighed. “If I were his size, I’d kick his ass.”

Owen laughed, his teeth gleaming straight and even. “I’ve seen you dig a ditch—I bet you could kick his ass just as you are. Why do you put up with him?”

“He’s my cousin’s boyfriend,” she explained. “And I’m kind of crashing with her, so . . .”

Owen winced sympathetically. “That’s tough.”

Daphne shrugged. “I’ve dealt with worse, if you can believe it.”

“I can believe just about anything.”

She watched him finish wiping down his bike and adjust a gauge near the handlebars. “I like your bike,” she said.

He raised an eyebrow. “Do I sense a potential convert to the Church of Motocross?”

Daphne fought off a smile. “I like that it doesn’t look like the others,” she clarified.

He nodded. “It’s vintage—I always liked the lines better on the older ones.” He leaned against his truck and crossed his arms. “You know, I could say the same about you. You don’t seem like the others,” he said, glancing at the crowd of locals clustered by Bryce’s truck.