Shut Out

Chapter eighteen

The next day, after all the girls had left, I decided to spend the afternoon cleaning up. Dad and Logan wouldn't be home until dinner, so there was no one to get in my way while I vacuumed and dusted and sanitized nearly everything in the house — my version of a relaxing Sunday. I was in the middle of reorganizing my closet by color — Chloe had decided to raid it during the sleepover — when the doorbell rang.

"Just a second," I yelled down the stairs. I ran into the bathroom to check my reflection. Part of me expected it to be Randy, coming to grovel and beg for forgiveness, and while I had no intention of taking him back I still wanted to look good, to show him I wasn't suffering without him.

Once I was certain that none of my hair was sticking up in the back and that no stress acne had popped up overnight, I ran down to the living room. "Coming! Sorry." I tugged once at the hem of my tank top before opening the door.

But Randy wasn't on my front porch.

Cash was.

"Hey."

"Um… hi."

The surprise must have shown on my face, because he glanced over his shoulder before turning back to me. "Are you expecting someone?"

"No, I just… I thought maybe you were Randy."

"Oh." There was an awkward pause and Cash ran a hand over his cropped hair, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Sorry I'm not who you were hoping for. I can go if you — "

"No!" I exclaimed. I blushed and glanced down at my feet. "No, I… I wasn't hoping to see him. I just kind of expected to. He hasn't come to apologize yet, so… But I'm glad it's you and not him. I don't think I'm ready to see him yet — I mean, I guess I should get over it, since he'll be at school tomorrow, but I'm hoping I can avoid him, since we don't have classes together, or maybe he'll avoid me, and now he has The Blonde, so… Ugh, sorry. I'm rambling. Why are you here?"

Cash shoved his hands into his pockets. "I wanted to check on you," he said. "To make sure you're doing okay after everything that happened Friday night."

"Oh… Yeah, I'm fine."

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Really?"

I opened my mouth to say, Yes, really. Why do you care? But the way he was looking at me, so genuine and warm — I knew he did care. Somewhere along the way, Cash and I had become friends. I knew that should bother me, that I should be wary of getting close to anyone after what Randy had done to me, but I

couldn't fight the feeling of calm that washed over me when my eyes locked with Cash's.

"Do you want to go for a walk?" I asked.

"Yeah — sure."

"Great. Give me a second." I stepped into the house and slipped on my sandals. I grabbed the house keys off the hook and joined Cash on the porch again, locking the door behind me. I double- and triple-checked the lock before shoving the keys into the back pocket of my jeans. "Okay, let's go."

We started walking down the street in silence. My arm brushed against his, but I didn't move away, and neither did he. We were on the corner, turning to follow the sidewalk, when I finally decided to speak.

"I'm better than I thought I'd be." I could feel his eyes on me, but I just kept walking. "After Homecoming, I expected to be a wreck. I expected to cry or be locked in my room or something…. I expected to miss him more, I guess. And I do — miss him, I mean — but it's not as bad as I'd thought. Some of my friends came over last night, and they really helped me. They made me realize that I could do better, you know?"

I glanced over and saw Cash nod.

"I thought I'd miss him more, but… that's not the problem."

"What is?"

"It's just… I keep asking myself, Why? Why wasn't I good enough to wait for? What's so wrong with me that he could just throw everything away for one night? Why was sex so damn important?" I felt the heat rise into my cheeks. "Oh, God, sorry. I shouldn't be talking to you about this."

"About what?"

"My, um, sex life… Or, as everyone now knows, my lack thereof."

"Oh."

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Sometimes I wish Mom was still around to talk to me about this stuff. She'd be able to tell me what to do."

"What do you think she'd say?"

I smiled, remembering her voice. Soft but stern. "She'd probably say something like, ‘Melissa Anne, stop questioning yourself. You're smart and beautiful, and that boy is a fool. Never, never let anyone pressure you… and please get your shoes off the couch.' "

"I'm going to assume you take after your mother."

I laughed. "That's what I'm told."

"Well, you know," Cash said tentatively, "she may not be around to tell you in person, but it seems like the advice you think she'd give is good."

"I know. But it's not the same."

"I'm sorry. We don't have to talk about her if it makes you uncomfortable."

It did, usually. I never let Randy talk about my mom, but with Cash, it was okay. It was easy. Still, I said, "Let's change the subject."

So for the next few minutes, we talked about nothing important — television, a book he'd just finished, our mutual belief that the lunch ladies were trying to poison us. Then, after a while, we fell quiet.

As we walked along Levitt Avenue, a few mothers pushed strollers past us and, across the street, two middle school–aged girls walked side by side, both holding leashes attached to Labrador puppies. It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon, and for a moment I marveled at the fact that I'd planned to spend the day cleaning instead of walking around the neighborhood. Hamilton really was a nice place — a generic suburb, sure, but pretty and friendly. Usually, I was too worried about other things to notice.

I didn't even notice that Cash had taken my hand until we'd reached the next corner. We were almost back to my house, having walked around the whole block, and he'd been holding my hand half the time without my even realizing.

"Lissa," he said slowly. "Look, about Randy and the whole sex thing — "

"Cash, please, it's embarrassing. Let's not — "

"No, just listen for a second." We were standing in front of my house again, and Cash had stopped, using our entwined hands to turn me toward him. "I know you don't want to talk about your…" He cleared his throat. "About what Randy said at Homecoming. But you should know this. The other night, I told you a decent guy wouldn't have done that to you. I didn't just mean embarrassing you in public like that. I meant…"

I stared up at him, our palms still pressed together.

He sighed. "I meant that a decent guy — a smart guy — wouldn't have let something like sex ruin a good thing. A guy with half a brain wouldn't have screwed things up with a girl like you."

"Thanks. That's sweet of you to say."

"I'm serious, Lissa." He lifted his free hand and brushed my cheek, tucking a few strands of hair behind my ear. Both of his hands were touching me, and I didn't miss the way my heart sped up just a little. "You're amazing — and he really fucked up."

Amazing. He'd said that at Vikki's party, too. Right before he'd kissed me. Right before he'd broken my heart. I wondered if he meant it this time. If maybe he was trying to tell me something — that he'd been wrong, that he'd made a mistake, that he liked me after all.

"Thank you," I said. "That means a lot."

Cash smiled down at me. Then, after a long moment, he let go of my hand and took a step back. "Well… I should get going. We have a game in an hour — Coach wants us there early."

"Right. I'm glad you came by."

He looked at me a little skeptically. "Really?"

I laughed and smacked him on the arm. "Of course. We're friends, aren't we?"

Cash grinned — that sweet, flirty grin he gave me in the library sometimes when our banter went a little further than I'd intended it to. "I'll see you tomorrow, then." He touched my cheek one last time before turning and walking toward his car.

I tried not to think too much about what Cash had said once I was back inside. I didn't want to get my hopes up. Still, I could feel joy bubbling in my chest, thinking that maybe, just maybe, he'd realized what a mistake he'd made by letting me go.