One Night That Changes Everything (18 page)

The whole ride into the city, we don’t talk. Which is fine with me. There’s hardly any traffic, and so we’re able to get in fairly quickly, and I spend the whole time pretending to be texting on my phone. Cooper lets me pick the music, so I create a pop station on Pandora and keep the music up a little too loud for conversation.

The weird thing? I kind of do want to talk to him. Okay, that’s not true. I want
him
to want to talk to
me
. I know I told him to go away in my bedroom, and for the most part, I did
want him to go away. I mean, I
do
want him to go away. My brain won’t let me believe anything that he says. But the other, smaller part of me wants him to talk to me again, to bring up the fact that maybe he wasn’t completely and totally doing what Tyler told him to, that maybe a small part of him still cares about me. Even though I know it’s stupid.

Which is why I have the music on. Because I know if I start talking, I’m going to try to steer the conversation around to why he wanted me on that list and what he thinks about everything, and I know that’s just dumb. Kate always told me that you should judge people by their actions and not their words.

And so far, Cooper’s actions definitely prove that he could care less about me. I mean, all he would have to do to prove it
would be to get my notebook back for me. Or to quit the 318s. Or to at least kiss me.

But if he doesn’t care about me at all, if he’s such a big jerk, then why is he helping me so much? I steal a look at him out of the corner of my eye. I try not to admire the way his hair fades into the back of his neck, the way his green eyes are all droopy and brooding. I try not to stare at his forearms clutching the steering wheel. Cooper has very sexy forearms. I think about those arms around my waist, and I swallow hard and then shift my gaze and look back out the window. Honestly, I never should have trusted anyone who’s that good-looking.

When we take the exit off the Mass Pike to get into Boston, Cooper reaches over and turns the radio down.

“Um,” he says. “Where should I … I mean, I have to get back to Isabella’s, so should I just bring you to Perk?”

Right. Isabella’s. I totally forgot about that. That’s a whole other story. I mean, it’s a little bit better now that I know Cooper’s not with her. But still.

“Yes,” I say. “You can drop me off at the Perk on Newbury.”

“I’m glad you picked that place,” he says. “That’s a safe area.”

“Thanks for thinking of me,” I say sarcastically.

His hands tighten around the steering wheel. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.

“It just means,” I say, “that if you were really so concerned about me, you wouldn’t just dump me off at Perk and then rush off to Isabella’s.”

“Eliza, I told you,” he says. “Isabella and I are just friends.
The only reason I’m even going back to her apartment is so Tyler won’t know that I’m with you.”

“I am so sick of all this Tyler bullshit! Honestly, Cooper, you really need to get some balls.”

“I have balls,” he says, looking pissed.

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do,” he says.

“No, you don’t,” I say.

“I can’t believe this,” he says. “I was all set to call him and tell him you weren’t going to play along with him anymore! Remember? When we were outside of Tyler’s and you started crying?
You’re
the one who told me I shouldn’t!”

Hmm. Good point. But whatever. I am too mad to even speak to him. We’re on Newbury Street now, and Cooper’s moving down the street, stopping every so often so people can cross. All the bars have just closed, so there are a lot of people on the street, heading back to their cars or looking for a place to get a late-night bite to eat.

“Look,” Cooper says, “I’m sorry you think that I’m not on your side, but I’ve been helping you all night, so a little bit of gratitude would be appreciated.”

I look at him incredulously. “A little bit of
gratitude
?” Is he serious? “You’re the one who got me into this predicament in the first place! If it wasn’t for you, I’d be at home right now, with Marissa and Clarice, completely happy and enjoying the fact that my parents were out of town by ordering pizza and watching whatever movies I wanted On Demand and having a great time!”

“Oh, yeah, that sounds like you’re really missing out on a lot,” Cooper says.

“Well, maybe it doesn’t sound as exciting as making out with girls for sport, but I happen to like it,” I say.

“Eliza,” Cooper says. He reaches over and tries to take my hand, but I pull it out of his grip.

“Whatever, Cooper,” I say. “If you really want to help me, then please just stay far, far away from me.”

He’s stopped at a crosswalk, and so I don’t even wait for him to say anything. I just step out of the car and onto the street.

2:41 a.m.

I’m so shaken that once I’m out of Cooper’s car, I start walking the wrong way down the street, away from Perk. I don’t want Cooper to see me turning around, because that would be super-embarrassing, so instead I just keep walking and then turn down a side street so I can walk around the block.

When I finally
do
get to Perk, my head feels a little bit clearer, and my heart rate’s slowed just a little bit. Still, I’m super-wired, so I opt for an herbal tea that the barista recommends when I ask for the best caffeine-free, calming drink available. I find a little table in the corner and sit down, wishing I had a book or a newspaper or some knitting or something to do while I sit here.

I take a sip of my tea. Eww. Kind of gross. Very strong
and herby, with not enough milk and sugar. But if I want to put more in, it means I have to go back up to the counter, and then I’ll lose my table. And if I lose my table, then I’ll really be in trouble, because what will I do then? Just walk up and down the street with my drink? I can’t exactly window-shop; all that’s open now are a couple of twenty-four-hour restaurants and pizza joints.

I sip my tea and feel sorry for myself for a little while, then flip open my phone and call Marissa.

“Hello!” she says when she answers. I can tell she’s in the car, because I can hear the rush of the wind behind her, like all the windows are open. “What’s going on?”

“Where are you guys?” I ask.

“Hold on,” she says. “I can’t hear you.” She turns the music down, and then says something to Clarice, giggling. Great. It sounds like they’re having a grand old time, with music and the wind blowing their hair, and I’m sitting here drinking some dumb herbal tea that tastes like pinecones, all by myself and waiting for the next thing I have to do that is going to humiliate me.

“Okay, sorry,” Marissa says, coming back on the line. “Clarice just picked me up.”

“You should have seen her, Eliza,” Clarice yells. “She had to jump off her back deck; she almost killed herself.”

“Yeah, real funny,” Marissa says. “Anyway, where are you?”

“I’m here,” I say, “at a table in the back.”

“We’re almost there,” Marissa says. “See you in five.”

Fifteen agonizing minutes later, they come waltzing in, giggling and laughing and falling all over each other, chattering away. Since when did those two become such good friends?

“Hi,” I say morosely. “What took you so long?”

“Sorry,” Marissa says. “I made the mistake of letting Clarice drive, and so of course we had to circle around forever, looking for a parking spot that was big enough for her to pull into, since she’s totally afraid to parallel park.”

“I’m not afraid,” Clarice protests. “I just don’t trust myself to do it, and I knew you’d get super-upset if I ended up scratching your car.” She flips her blond hair over her shoulder. “But anyway, it didn’t even matter, because a nice man totally parked the car for me.”

“A nice man parked your car for you?” Honestly, you couldn’t even make this stuff up.

“Yes,” Clarice says. “He was crossing the street, and I saw a spot, and so I said, ‘Excuse me, sir, but would you possibly be willing to park my car for me?’ and so he did!” She beams.

“Why didn’t you just do it?” I ask Marissa.

“Because I wanted to see what was going to happen,” Marissa explains.

“How did you know the guy would be a good parallel parker?” I ask Clarice.

“He just had that look about him,” she says.

“What if he was drunk or something?”

“Eliza, he wasn’t drunk!” She looks shocked. “He was
wearing a suit and he had a very well-groomed beard!” I decide not to point out that if he was wearing a suit, that probably meant he hadn’t been home from work to change, which most likely meant he’d been prowling the streets of Boston since he got out of work, maybe even since yesterday, doing God knows what.

“He
might
have been a little drunk,” Marissa says. “And he
did
ask for your number.”

“He was fine,” Clarice says dismissively. “He was just a nice old man who wanted to do a good deed for someone in trouble.”

“Anyway,”
I say. Although it’s kind of comforting, just how naive Clarice really is.

“Yeah, anyway,” Marissa says. She plops down in the chair across from me. “So what are we doing? What’s the deal, what’s the plan?”

“I dunno,” I say, shrugging. “I’m waiting to hear from Tyler.”

“Okay,” Clarice says. “Then I guess we should probably go get drinks.”

“Don’t get herbal tea,” I tell them, wrinkling my nose. “No matter who recommends it.”

“Got it.” They head to the counter, and I try to take another sip of my tea.

My cell phone starts ringing. Cooper! I guess he didn’t listen when I told him to just leave me alone. I hesitate, wondering if I should answer it, if maybe he’s calling to tell me what
it is I have to do next. But then I decide no. If they really want to get in touch with me, they can have Tyler text me. And a second later, my phone vibrates and the new text notification goes off. I look down at the screen. Tyler.

“
TELL KATE THE TRUTH ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED WITH MIGUEL CONTADOR
.”

I look down at the text and blink. Shit, shit, shit. Out of all the things in my notebook for them to make me do, this one just might be the worst.

Marissa and Clarice come back to the table, each with a huge plastic-domed cup filled with something cold. Clarice licks some whipped cream off her spoon and sits down daintily in the seat across from me, and then Marissa sits down next to her.

“You were right,” she says. “They totally tried to give me the herbal tea. I told them, ‘No thank you, I need a caffeine jolt.’” She looks at me. “What are you staring at?”

I’m looking down at the table, to where my cell phone is still in my hand. Marissa reaches over and grabs it. “Tell Kate the truth about what happened with Miguel Contador,” she reads out loud. Her eyes get wide, and she looks at me.

“Uh-oh,” she says.

“Yeah,” I say. “Uh-oh.” Although
uh-oh
is pretty much an understatement.

Clarice frowns and her blue eyes flash with confusion. “I don’t get it,” she says. “Who’s Miguel Contador?”

“Miguel Contador,” I say. “You remember him, he was a senior when we were sophomores.”

“Sort of,” she says, frowning. “Did he have dark hair and dark eyes?”

“Yes,” I say. “He was always, um …” I swallow, remembering. “He was always working out.”

“So what happened?” Clarice asks. “With you and Miguel Contador? And why do you have to tell Kate about it?” She dips her straw back into the whipped cream on top of her drink and sucks it off daintily.

Marissa and I glance at each other.

“Well,” I say slowly. “Um, Kate was a junior when I was a freshman.”

“Duh,” Clarice says. “I’m not that bad at math.”

“Well, uh, Miguel was her boyfriend,” I say.

“They dated for, like, four or five months,” Marissa adds.

“Wait,” Clarice says. She sets her spoon down on the table and looks at us. “How is it that Marissa knows this scandalous story you’re about to tell, and I don’t?”

“How do you know it’s going to be scandalous?” I ask.

“Because,” Clarice says, sounding exasperated, “if it wasn’t scandalous, then (a) it wouldn’t be a secret, (b) I would know about it, and (c) the 318s wouldn’t be making you do something having to do with it.” I blink at her, impressed by her astuteness. She is, of course, right on all counts.

“Um,” I say. “Well, you’re right on all counts.”

“Eliza hooked up with him!” Marissa blurts suddenly,
unable to contain herself. Then she claps her hand over her mouth, but she totally doesn’t look even remotely sorry. “Oops,” she says.

“Eliza!” Clarice yells. “You hooked up with your sister’s boyfriend?!” A couple of people turn to look. This place is surprisingly busy for such a late hour.

“Yes,” I say, blushing. “But it wasn’t my fault, it was … Kate had this huge party at our house while my parents were out of town, and Miguel was there, and everyone was in the hot tub and swimming and he … he had these abs that were like … he was always working out,” I finish lamely.

“So because he was always working out, you thought it was okay to hook up with him?” I should have known Clarice wouldn’t take this story well, what with her stringent views on love and romance.

“No,” I say. “I didn’t think it was okay to hook up with him! But he and Kate hadn’t been going out for that long, and earlier she’d told me that she wasn’t sure she really liked him.”

“Sounds like you’re trying to justify it,” Clarice says, wagging her finger at me. “That’s not good, Eliza.”

I sigh and decide I’m going to have to tell her the whole story.

What happened was, Kate and I had been getting ready for the party earlier that night, both doing our hair in the same bathroom. One of us could have gone downstairs, but we liked getting ready together. Kate would tell me what
kind of makeup I should wear, and then she would do my hair, blowing it out until it was super-straight and shiny.

Kate had been dating Miguel for a couple of weeks, and they were in that stage where you kind of have to decide if it’s really going anywhere. At least Kate thought that’s the stage they were in, because I remember her telling me that she wasn’t so sure if she really liked him all that much.