I didn’t tell Casey this, though. I didn’t say anything at all. She didn’t know about that last night with Wesley, how he had been my friend for about twelve solid hours. She didn’t know about Dad’s relapse, or the way Wesley had stood up for me. Those were things I could never tell her.
She was getting pissed at him only because she was scared. Scared I’d run back to him and forget about her and Jessica again. Defending Wesley wouldn’t have helped put that worry to rest.
Toby had gone from geek to hero in Casey’s mind in a matter of days. Simply because he hadn’t taken me from her. I wasn’t spending every afternoon with him the way I had with Wesley. I didn’t really want to. Sometimes that scared me, but I figured that that was normal. This was a healthy, nonescapist relationship, unlike what I’d had with Wesley. And at the moment, I was really happy to be spending some time with my friends.
I turned into Casey’s driveway and hit the automatic unlock button on my door. “Don’t worry about me. You’re right. Toby is awesome, and he’s made it so much easier to move on. I already have. Things are going well for me, so don’t worry.”
“Okay,” she said. “Good. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, B.”
“Bye.”
She climbed out of the car, and I drove away, wondering whether I’d just lied to her. Honestly, I wasn’t sure.
On the way home, Wesley called again.
I ignored him.
Because things were going well for me.
Because I was moving on.
Because talking on a cell phone and driving at the same time just isn’t safe.
I pushed Wesley out of my mind when I saw Toby’s car already parked in my driveway. Dad wasn’t home from work yet, so he sat on the front porch steps with a book. The sun glinted off the rims of his glasses, making them look extra sparkly. Like he was a trophy.
I got out of the car and hurried up the sidewalk toward him. “Hey,” I said. “Sorry. I had to take Casey home.”
He looked up at me with a smile.
Not a crooked grin…
I had to shake myself. I wasn’t going to think about Wesley. I wasn’t going to let myself miss him. Not when I had Toby. Sweet, normal, sparkly-smiling Toby.
“It’s fine,” he said. “I’m enjoying the weather. It’s so unpredictable in the spring.” He stuck his bookmark in the pages of his novel. “It’s nice to have a little bit of sunlight.”
“Brontë?” I asked, seeing the cover of his book. “Wuthering Heights? Isn’t that a little girly, Toby?”
“Have you read it?”
“Well, no,” I admitted. “I’ve read Jane Eyre, which was definitely full of early feminism. I’m not saying that’s a problem. Personally, I’m a total feminist, but it’s a little sketchy for a teenage boy.”
Toby shook his head. “Jane Eyre is Charlotte Brontë. Wuthering Heights is Emily. The sisters are very, very different. Yes, Wuthering Heights is usually considered a love story, but I disagree with that. It’s almost a ghost story, and there’s more hate than romance. Every character is atrocious and spoiled and selfish… It’s kind of like watching an episode of Gossip Girl in the eighteen hundreds. Except, of course, much less ridiculous.”
“Interesting,” I muttered, chagrined that I secretly watched Gossip Girl on a regular basis.
“It isn’t a favorite of most boys my age, I guess,” he said. “But it’s a page-turner. You should read it.”
“I might.”
“You should.”
I smiled and shook my head. “Are you ready to go in or what?”
“Absolutely.” He snapped the book shut and got to his feet. “Lead the way.”
I unlocked the door and let him walk inside ahead of me, where he immediately took his shoes off. Not that we live like pigs or anything, but no one ever does that in our house. I couldn’t help being impressed.
“Where will we be working?” he asked.
I realized suddenly that I was watching him and looked away. “Oh,” I said casually. “Um… my room? Is that okay?” God, I hope he doesn’t think I’m a stalker freak for staring at him like that.
“If it doesn’t bother you,” Toby said.
“No, it’s cool. Come on.”
He followed me up the stairs. When we reached my bedroom, I pushed the door open a crack, checking quickly for embarrassing items (bras, panties, et cetera) that might be lying on the floor. Sure the coast was clear-and praying I hadn’t been too obvious-I swung the door the rest of the way open and gestured for Toby to walk inside.
“Sorry it’s a little messy,” I said, looking down at the pile of unfolded, clean clothes that always stayed on the floor at the foot of my bed and trying not to think about the last time I’d had a boy in my room and how he’d laughed at my neurotic clothes folding. What would Toby think of it?
“It’s fine.” Toby moved a stack of overdue library books out of my chair and placed them on the desk. Then he sat down. “We’re seventeen. Our rooms are supposed to be messy. It wouldn’t be natural if they weren’t.”
“I guess not.” I climbed onto my bed and sat with my legs crisscrossed. “I just didn’t want it to bug you.”
“Nothing about you could bug me, Bianca.”
It took everything I had to ignore how cheesy that sounded. I smiled anyway and looked down at my purple comforter. I’d never received so many compliments from one person, and I wasn’t very good at accepting them. Mostly because I was always too busy mocking how mushy they were. But I was working on that.
And the truth was, I was kind of blushing.
I didn’t even notice Toby had moved until he was sitting beside me. “Sorry,” he said. “Did I embarrass you?”
“No… well, yeah, but in a good way.”
“As long as it’s in a good way.”
He leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek, but I didn’t let him stop there. I turned my head and pressed my lips against his, just as he started to pull back. It didn’t go quite as smoothly as I’d hoped. I mean, his glasses kind of knocked me in the face for a second, but I pretended I hadn’t noticed.
His lips were so soft that I wondered if he used ChapStick. Seriously, nobody has lips that perfect naturally, do they? He must have been disgusted by mine, which probably felt rough and scaly to him.
But if he was, he didn’t show it. His hand moved up my arm and rested on my shoulder, pulling me a little closer. We sat on my bed and kissed for a few minutes, but the sound of my cell phone broke the moment. Damn it!
And of course, it was that same Britney Spears ringtone-the one I wanted least to hear at that exact moment-that seemed to scream at me. Toby pulled away and looked down at the floor where I’d dropped my purse. When I didn’t move, he turned back to me with raised eyebrows.
“Ignoring someone?” he asked.
“Well,… um, yeah.”
“Are you sure you don’t need to answer it?”
“Positive.”
Before he could ask any more questions, I kissed him again. Hard this time. And even though he hesitated for an instant, he returned it. I fumbled to take off his glasses and placed them on the nightstand beside my bed before our arms twisted around each other, the kiss deepening.
I pulled him down onto the pillows with me. There wasn’t quite enough room for both of us on my twin bed, so he had to lie partially on top of me. One of his hands was in my hair, and the other rested near my elbow.
He wasn’t trying to grab my boob, he hadn’t slid his hand up my shirt, and he didn’t attempt to unzip my jeans.
Actually, Toby didn’t try anything risky. I had the feeling I was going to have to make all of the big moves, like loosening the buttons on his shirt, which I did.
For an instant, I wondered if he was hesitating because of me. Because I was the Duff. Because he didn’t really find me attractive. Despite all those compliments he paid me, it didn’t feel like he wanted me. Not the way Wesley had.