Shut Out

Chapter seven

Randy and I had our first big fight this past June, right after school let out. We'd broken up, and I was devastated. But on a hot night in July, Chloe decided to get me out of my funk and drag me to a party at Vikki McPhee's house.

"Come on," she'd said, pulling me from my bedroom that night. "You'll never get over Randy if you don't put yourself out there. A few meaningless hookups are exactly what you need right now."

When we'd arrived at the party, Chloe gave me a once-over and sighed. "I still can't believe you're wearing that. You have some sexy clothes. Why aren't you rocking them?"

I rolled my eyes and edged past her into the house. The place already smelled like beer and pot, and the walls were practically shuddering against the pounding bass of the stereo. I wrapped my arms around myself and moved toward the perimeter of the room, staying close to the wall. I wanted to fall through the floor. This kind of chaos wasn't what I needed right then. Or ever.

Chloe ran up beside me. "Let's get something to drink."

"You know I don't drink," I said.

"For once in your life, can't you just let go? Lose control a little? You might actually enjoy not agonizing over every little thing."

I shook my head.

"Have it your way," she said, shrugging. "But please, promise me you'll go talk to people? Have a little bit of fun tonight, okay?"

"Fine."

She squeezed my shoulder before hurrying off toward Vikki's kitchen. I pressed my back against the wall and looked around. More people were arriving, and many were already dancing and shouting along with the music. In the corner, I saw a side table topple over when a boy fell backward onto it. I cringed. I had to get out of there.

Keeping my word to Chloe, I said a quick, "Hey, how are you?" to Kelsey as she passed me, wearing an expensive-looking white sundress. She gave an annoyed glance — probably deciding that she didn't want to talk to anyone dressed as badly as I was — and moved on. Just like I'd hoped.

With my task complete, I edged around the living room and headed toward the back door. Leaving the party wasn't an option, since Chloe was my ride — as usual — but I could at least get out of this room.

The sun had just set when I pushed open the door to the back porch. But instead of finding the backyard empty, I discovered Cash Sterling sitting on the steps.

"Oh, sorry," I muttered, my hand still on the door. "I'll leave."

He was sitting on the top step of the wooden porch, one of his legs pulled up to his chest while the other stretched out toward the steps below him. His chin had been resting thoughtfully in his hand, but when he heard me, his head turned in my direction.

"Hey," he said. And I thought I saw his eyes light up a little, though it could have just been the flickering porch light playing tricks. "No. Stay. I don't mind."

Even though I'd wanted to be alone, I decided that Cash would be better company than the crowd inside Vikki's living room. I shut the door and walked over to sit beside him on the steps. The smile he gave me was so sweet, so warm, that even in my bad mood, I couldn't help smiling back at him.

I didn't really know Cash that well. We'd had a few classes together, and back before Ellen and I had stopped talking I would see him hanging out with Adam, her boyfriend. We'd talked maybe twice, but we'd never been alone together. Until now.

"So what are you doing out here?" I asked. "Already tired of the party?"

Cash laughed. "I guess you could say that. It's not really my thing. A few of the guys from the soccer team asked me to play designated driver, though. So I agreed to help out. How about you?"

"My best friend made me come."

"Why? I mean, if you don't want to be here…"

"She thinks it'll be good for me," I explained. "My boyfriend and I… Well, we just split up, and she decided it would be good for me to be social."

Cash looked away, and I watched as his sneaker scuffed against the wooden step a few feet below us. "So you and Randy aren't together now?"

I almost asked how he knew who my boyfriend was, but I stopped myself. The answer was obvious. Randy was the quarterback, one of the most popular boys in school. Everyone knew who he was dating. Not to mention, Hamilton boasted only about a hundred students per graduating class. It was almost difficult not to be aware of who dated whom.

"Yes."

"How long ago?"

"Three weeks."

"I'm sorry."

He didn't sound sorry, though. I couldn't read his tone — caught somewhere between indifference and smugness. I almost stood up and walked back inside then. Almost ran away from his insensitivity.

But before I could move, he turned to face me again, freezing me on the spot with his gorgeous eyes. "Have you ever played the Star Game?"

I just blinked at him.

Cash's cheeks turned just the slightest bit red before he elaborated. "You have to be here because of your friend, and I'm driving home guys who won't want to leave until the keg is empty. We're going to be out here awhile, so we might as well find some way to entertain ourselves, you know? So have you ever played the Star Game?"

"What's the Star Game?" I asked.

"Well… technically, it's this thing I saw Russell Crowe do in a movie once, but I just kind of turned it into a way to pass the time." He looked up at the sky, which had now become dark enough to make out the vast number of summer stars. "Okay, pick a shape," he said.

"A… What are we doing?"

"You're picking a shape," he said. "Anything. It could even be an object. Or an animal, but sometimes those are harder."

"Cash, I don't — "

"Just pick one."

"Fine. A triangle."

He sighed. "That is way too easy." Then, without warning, he reached between us and picked up my hand. I was startled, and I almost pulled back, but then our eyes met.

"Relax," he said.

And, for once, I did.

His fingers were warm and callused against mine. He uncoiled my hand and gently forced me to extend my index finger. He made me point to a cluster of stars over our heads, and I watched as he drew a triangle with my finger, using three stars as the points. "See? That's the Star Game."

"Oh," I said. "Wow… A triangle was too easy."

"Your turn," he said. "I tell you a shape and you have to find it in the stars."

I admit, the game was kind of cheesy, but I thought it was sweet of him to try to entertain me when I was so clearly having a bad night. So I played along.

"All right, what shape?"

"An elephant."

"Are you joking?" I cried. "You said animals were the hardest. You can't give me an elephant."

"That's what makes it a game," Cash teased, grinning and looking at me out of the corner of his eye. "The first person unable to piece together the image loses. I like winning. So I give you an elephant."

"Jerk."

"Clock's ticking."

"There's a time limit, too?" I asked, panicked.

"No," he laughed. "Now I'm really just messing with you."

I sighed and looked up at the stars. At least there were a lot out tonight. That made finding the shapes easier. But an elephant? There was no way I could find an elephant in the sky. Just as I was thinking this, though, the lines began to form in my brain, connecting one star to another in a somewhat animal-like shape.

I picked up Cash's hand and he extended his index finger, willing me to draw through him. Slowly, I traced the stick-figure outline of the elephant. I started with each leg, then did the back, but when I got to the head, I halted. These stars would make a better dog or cat, because I couldn't find the trunk. My eyes scoured the tiny lights, hoping to find some way to connect the final pieces, just as Cash began to hum the Jeopardy! theme song in my ear.

Then his wrist began to move without my guiding it, and Cash connected a few stars jutting upward, making a trunk pointing toward the air instead of at the elephant's feet, as I'd

been imagining. He drew his finger back down, making the animal whole. Lopsided and irregularly shaped but whole.

"Nice job," he said, as if I'd figured out how to finish the constellation myself.

"You let me win," I said.

He shrugged and gave me a small smile. "It was your first time."

"Well, thanks for being gentle."

Cash cracked up, and when I realized what I'd just said, my cheeks flamed.

"I–I mean — "

"It's no problem," Cash choked out between laughs. "Any good guy would have made it special for you."

I buried my face in my hands. "Oh, God." But I was laughing, too. With anyone else, Chloe excluded, I probably would have been mortified. But in that context, it really was funny.

"All right," he said, taking my hand again as his laughter eased. It felt so natural, so normal, that it didn't even faze me to have him hold my hand. "So do you think you can win on your own next time?"

"Of course I can."

He smirked and leaned against my arm just a bit, his fingers still wrapped around mine. "Prove it," he said.

"I will," I said defiantly. "But you have to go first. And this time, you have to make an… an octopus."

Cash hesitated, then looked up at the sky before turning back to me. "Game on."

Cash and I played the Star Game for hours, talking between each challenge. He explained his position in soccer to me — though the explanation really flew right over my head — and, after he caught me counting the seconds as I waited for him to complete my newest constellation assignment (Santa Claus), I'd been forced to confess my control-freak neuroses. Which, shockingly, didn't send him running back into the party.

"So when you're nervous, you count?"

"Not just when I'm nervous," I said. "It's… all the time. I count the seconds during pauses in conversations. I count the minutes when I'm waiting on something. Sometimes, when I'm kind of panicked or anxious, I count my heartbeats. Something about counting makes me feel like… like I have the power. Like knowing how much time has passed or how many steps I've taken from one place to another will somehow keep me in control of the situation." My hands twisted in my lap. I couldn't believe I was telling Cash this. It wasn't something I'd shared with anyone besides Chloe. "I know it's crazy."

"I don't think you're crazy," Cash said. "I think you're…"

I looked up at him just as he trailed off. It was too dark to tell, but I thought he was blushing.

"I'm what?"

He cleared his throat and ran a hand over his hair. I wanted to touch it, feel the short, dark strands. "I think you're kind of amazing."

One, two…

I was holding my breath, my whole body tense as I waited for his next words. Then I realized, with a little bit of a shock, that it

was the first time I'd been anxious in a few hours. He'd had me so relaxed, so at ease — until now.

Three, four…

What was he going to say? What did I want him to say?

"I mean," he added, "you are surprisingly good at the Star Game. Until tonight, I'd never found anyone who could compete with me."

"Do you, um, play with many other people?"

"Well… no. Honestly, you're the only other person I've played with besides my mom. We played when we'd go camping when I was a kid, but that's been years. I usually just do this on my own. So… you're the first person to be able to compete with me. No lie."

"So… your mom really sucks at the game, huh?"

Cash laughed. "She couldn't even make a triangle… but I was nine, so she may have been letting me win."

"The way you're letting me win right now?"

"Yeah… just much more subtle. I never would have guessed back then that she was helping me."

Before I could respond, I felt Cash's hand wrap around mine. He nudged my index finger out and pointed it to the sky.

"What are you doing?" I asked. "I haven't challenged you yet."

"No," he said. "But I just saw one on my own. Look at this."

And I watched as Cash traced my finger along a line of stars, following a few more into a curve, and then another, until a long line connected them all at a point.

"A heart," I murmured.

And my own skipped a beat.

I cleared my throat. "You know, that's, um, a little cheesy."

"Yeah, maybe."

I turned toward Cash just as he turned toward me. I closed my hand over his, and then he was leaning and I was leaning and it felt like a gravitational pull. Like moving toward Cash was the most natural thing in the world.

And that's the way the kiss felt, too. Natural. Like I'd been kissing him forever. Like we were supposed to be kissing each other at that moment. Maybe for every moment after.

My phone buzzed in my back pocket just as Cash's free hand moved up to cup my cheek.

"Sorry," I murmured into his mouth as I pulled away. "It might be an emergency… or something."

He nodded and turned away, running a hand over his head again.

When I flipped open my phone, I found a text from Chloe.

Going back 2 shanes place. Can u get another ride or want me 2 take u back now?

I glanced over at Cash and felt the butterflies beating their wings against my rib cage. Four hours ago, I would have given anything to leave this place. But now, as it approached midnight, I wanted nothing more than to stay here. Or be wherever Cash was, anyway.

"Um, hey," I said, summoning all of my nerve. "Do… do you think you can give me a ride home when you take your friends?"

He turned to look at me. "Yeah, of course. There'll be room in my car."

"Great. Thank you. My ride is leaving and… well, let me text her."

I replied to Chloe and shoved my phone into my pocket. I turned back to Cash, and he smiled.

And kissed me again.

I gave Cash directions to my place after he drove his drunk friends home about an hour later. It was with some regret that I watched my house draw nearer. I didn't want the night to end. I didn't want to be away from Cash.

Everything about Cash made me melt. The smell of his cologne. The way he said my name. The constant spark in his green eyes. And knowing that no girl had gotten this far with him — knowing that I had kissed Mr. Unattainable and that he'd called me amazing — made me feel special and real and giddy.

We'd spent only a few hours together, but I already felt so connected to Cash. Being myself with him, relaxing around him, came so easily. More easily than it did with anyone else.

We made out in his car for a few minutes after we pulled into my driveway. Slow and easy. He didn't push me further than I wanted, and I was grateful. I was still getting over Randy, after all. I didn't want to rush anything new.

But then he was pulling away from me. His thumb traced along my lower lip as he said, "You should go inside. You don't want to worry your parents."

"Just my dad," I murmured, wanting to keep kissing him but knowing he was right. If Dad woke up and found the door still unlocked, waiting for me, he'd be angry. I was already an hour

past curfew — banking on the fact that he'd go to bed early and never know the difference.

"Give me your phone," I said.

Cash handed me his cell phone, an old-school Nokia like they'd had when I was in sixth grade. I couldn't help smiling as I programmed my number in for him. He grinned at me when I handed it back, and he kissed me one last time. Quick. Smooth. Leaving me longing for more.

"I'll turn on the headlights so you can see to get in," he said.

"Thank you."

The lights flicked on, illuminating the driveway and glaring off the back of Dad's van.

"Football fans, huh?" Cash said.

"Oh, yeah," I said. "Well, you know. My brother used to play, and they supported Randy, of course."

I wasn't thinking about the rivalry then. I wasn't thinking about sports at all. It was summer. I was free from it all. Or so I thought. But Cash's face darkened just a little at the mention of football, and I quickly realized my mistake.

"Give me a call," I said, reaching for the door handle. "I had a great time tonight. Really."

He turned to face me, and I thought his eyes still looked a little guarded. Or maybe he was just tired. Or maybe I was, and my vision wasn't what it usually is. Because his voice sounded normal.

"I had a great time, too," he said. "Good night, Lissa."

"Good night."

I climbed out of his car and ran up the sidewalk. I stopped on

the porch and watched as Cash's car disappeared around the corner. When the last glow of his taillights had gone, I walked inside.

But the joy of that night faded pretty fast.

Even after everything I thought we shared, Cash never called me. I waited for three weeks, and not a peep. Not even a text message. It was like that night had never happened — and sometimes I wondered if maybe it hadn't. If I'd imagined it. Dreamed it up as a way to get over Randy. Like an idiot, I hadn't gotten Cash's number for myself.

Not that it would have mattered. He'd rejected me. That much was clear.

In the long run, though, it was for the best. At the start of August, Randy crashed his Cougar. Despite that night with Cash, I was still in love with Randy, and I was just so happy he hadn't gotten hurt that when he called me to apologize for our fight, I ran back to him.

And I was lucky, too. Because we'd both realized that breaking up was the biggest mistake ever. So we got back together that night, and I decided to put Cash behind me.

Easier said than done.

Isn't that how it always works?