Chapter Eleven
The thing about using your cell phone as your alarm clock is it’s hard to avoid seeing your notifications first thing when you wake up. The minute I open my eyes, I see a new episode of Kiki on the Case has been released.
Oh, and the title of the episode is “Secret Relationships in History.”
It’s too early to deal with my stress over whether or not she’s trying to send me a message, or worse, if there’s something pointed at me in it, so I skip my usual routine of scrolling through everyone’s posts and pictures to wake myself up and instead hop straight into the shower.
I try to think about literally anything else as the hot spray rains, but everything from Homecoming to Chase to college feels charged.
I went to sleep around eleven last night, and there hadn’t been a new episode then; what was so important Kiki had to post it first thing this morning?
Not to mention the time she must’ve taken to edit it. Did she even sleep?
I guess I should be grateful I got to, thanks to having no idea this was coming.
Sighing in defeat, I finish my shower quickly and throw some mousse in my natural waves rather than going through the whole curling routine that’s been keeping me extra cute since Jasmine introduced me to it.
I don’t feel like looking extra cute; I want to blend so deeply into the woodwork even Kiki and her eagle eyes won’t see me.
The dress I had picked out for today gets pushed aside in favor of a long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans, and I skip makeup entirely.
Chase will probably walk right through me.
Today, that’s all I want.
As usual, Shannon’s right on time to pick me up, and Gia’s in the back seat, but no sign of Kiki, who’s usually picked up first. “Keeks is taking the Porsche in again today,” Shannon explains as I climb into the front seat of her 4Runner, “but don’t worry.
” She taps her dashboard. “It’s basically like she’s here. ”
Shannon is playing the newest episode of Kiki on the Case, because of course she is.
“I haven’t listened yet,” I say cautiously. “What’d I miss?”
“She’s putting secret couples from history on blast. Did you know Eleanor Roosevelt was a lesbian? She had a secret lover and everything.”
The coffee my mom handed me this morning sloshes in my stomach. “You don’t say.”
I have to warn Jasmine today about the conversations that are gonna be floating around, and about the very distinct possibility that Kiki has somehow pieced together the truth about us. Thinking about any and all of it makes me wanna die.
For a moment, I’m worried I spoke aloud, because suddenly Shannon’s car is turning onto Jasmine’s street.
“What are we doing here?” Gia asks, and I’m relieved I don’t have to.
“Jasmine’s car is in the shop, so I told her we’d give her a ride.”
That Shannon knows her car is in the shop, and that Shannon is who Jasmine went to for help, punches me in the gut.
They’re really becoming friends, and I don’t know whether the idea of not being Shannon’s number one anymore or the idea of not being Jasmine’s number one at Stratford bothers me more.
How did they bond like this? When? Where was I?
Gia huffs the tiniest bit. Everyone knows that in our close-knit group of four, Shannon and I are the tightest; when my mom was still finding her footing in the job market and working later hours than Child Protective Services would’ve found acceptable, the Salter mansion’s open-door policy was a lifesaver, rendering us inseparable.
But that doesn’t mean any one of us are gonna be cool with a fifth wheel.
Shannon pretends not to notice.
The sound of a door slamming makes us all look up.
As if Jasmine knew I was gonna be wearing my blandest outfit, she’s wearing what must be one of her loudest—black-and-white-checkered hip huggers, a cropped hot-pink sweater that looks gorgeous with her deeply tanned skin, and big gold hoops that poke through her thick, silky curtain of hair.
She’s usually a few inches taller than me, but today she’s wearing platforms that lift her a few extra.
She looks like she wants to be noticed.
I try not to think about whom she’d like to be noticed by.
It’s a few weeks into the school year and I haven’t heard any rumors of Jasmine getting with anyone or even flirting, though I’ve heard of plenty of guys expressing interest. She’s getting a reputation as mysterious and elusive—everything I thought she was before I got to know her.
Everything she’s been to me again since she moved here.
This summer she felt like someone I’d been born to know, and now I feel like I can’t predict a damn thing.
Which I guess is back to being how she likes it.
“Good morning!” Shannon greets her sunnily as she slips in the backseat with Gia, and Jasmine grunts in the universal language of “I haven’t had my coffee yet.” Shannon laughs and says that clearly a stop at the Starbucks drive-thru will be required.
Jasmine mumbles her appreciation. Even fully decked out, she has never been a morning person, though she does warm up a bit when Gia declares her outfit cute.
We’re driving for about a minute when Jasmine speaks up. “What are you guys listening to? Is that Kiki?”
I cringe as Gia launches into an explanation of the episode, glad that Jasmine can’t see me from her seat behind me.
“Secret relationships. Interesting.” Jasmine sure sounds awake now. “So … fraught. I wonder what brought that on.”
I dig my nails into the seat, not caring if it chips the pink polish I applied last night.
“It must suck to have to keep a relationship secret,” Gia muses. “I mean, I guess it’s kind of romantic, having something just between the two of you, but if I couldn’t hold Tommy’s hand in the hallway or kiss him at the movies—”
“And in the lunch room, and in class, and at parties, and at—”
“Oh, shut up,” Gia says to Shannon as Jasmine snorts and I full-on laugh. Gia likes to think she’s restrained about PDA, but she’s delusional. She would be a terrible spy.
Definitely not a candidate for a secret relationship.
I try to imagine Gia in my shoes, fooling around with a girl under blankets on the couch or under the cover of starlight, and I can’t.
It had felt then like it could happen to anyone, like female friends who were comfortable with each other could fall onto each other’s mouths and it was all cool.
But would that have happened if it’d been Gia on the beach—Gia, who was obsessed with Tommy’s masculine forearms and deep voice and the earthy smell of his cologne?
Shannon, maybe, if she thought it somehow made her worldly.
Shannon would probably shout about it from the rooftops.
And suddenly, it hits me. I’m here drowning in self-reflection while Shannon and Jasmine get closer.
Shannon may be flirting with Lucas, but they aren’t a Thing, not yet.
And Shannon’s been known to surprise with her dating choices, especially if she thinks landing them is a fun challenge.
Is that what’s going on here? Is Jasmine dressed up because Shannon’s picking her up?
Is Shannon picking her up like people pick up people they’re dating?
The wave of pain that hits is fast and furious, and I don’t even realize it’s coming until I’ve already moaned out loud, forcing Shannon to stop short. “Jesus, Lara. Are you OK?”
I don’t know, I want to say. Tell me you’re not hooking up with Jasmine and maybe I will be.
I don’t know why that’s the thought that comes to my head. I don’t know why this hurts. I don’t know what I feel like I’m losing because I don’t know what I’m losing. All I know is the thought of them together—like, really together—feels like a stab wound to the chest.
“Fine, sorry,” I croak, and Shannon makes a teasing comment about me being a drama queen.
Which … is maybe exactly what I am being.
And anyway, I have Chase. I am dating Chase fucking Harding.
I don’t know how serious we are or will be but I do know what he listens to in the car and what lines make him laugh at movies and what his mouth tastes like, and that is plenty. So, what am I getting hung up about?
There’s the lightest squeeze on my shoulder, so gentle I’d think I was imagining it if it weren’t for the searing warmth coming through my baggy shirt.
And like that, my question is answered: the knowing when I need a touch, when I need to be remembered, when I need affection.
That quiet, intuitive kindness. That’s what I’m getting hung up about.
I lift my hand to squeeze hers back, but it’s already gone.