I stared at his mouth, at his slightly parted lips, his stupid perfect lips. Then I remembered where that mouth had been.
I shoved his shoulder. “Get off me,” I snarled.
He smirked and sat up, not even putting up a fight. “Whatever you say, Rebel.”
The remote was back in his hand, a smug smile on his face. I hated Jude McCallister. I really, really did.
The lights flickered and died just as the TV did, plunging us into darkness.
“I need to check the fuse box.”
“No.” Don’t leave me alone in the dark with a storm raging outside. I grabbed his arm to stop him from leaving the sofa. “You can’t do that.”
“You want us to just sit here in the dark?”
“It’s in the basement. The fuse box.”
“Uh yeah, that’s usually where they are.” He shook off my hold on him and stood up. Another bolt of lightning lit up the dark room and illuminated his face for a fraction of a second. “I’ll be right back.”
“Wait.” I jumped up from the sofa. “I’ll come with you.” He used his phone flashlight to guide the way and I stayed close behind him, stopping short of hanging on to the hem of his T-shirt. I had my limits. I wasn’t that big of a wimp. I could hold my own and didn’t need a guy to take care of me. Most of the time.
“This is the kind of thing that happens in horror movies,” I said conversationally as we descended the stairs to the basement. “Like, don’t go down there and then the person ventures down and boom…” I clapped my hands together for effect. “It’s a zombie attack or a madman with a machete jumps out and chops up the unsuspecting victim and stores the body parts in the refrig—”
“Lila.”
“Hmm?”
“You can stop now.”
I took a deep breath and tried to contain my crazy. “Okay.”
When we reached the bottom of the stairs, he had to duck his head because the ceiling was so low. He took my hand in his and arced his flashlight around the basement, searching for the fuse box. I hated it down here. It smelled musty and not even the dehumidifier that I emptied daily took the moisture out of the air.
“It’s over by the washer and dryer,” I told him and he zeroed in on it with his flashlight.
“You know what I don’t get.”
“What?” There were a lot of things I didn’t get but I’d love to know what he didn’t understand.
“Why do you love watching horror movies so much? You never even get scared when we watch them. You’re totally fine. But you’re scared of basements and thunderstorms?”
“Because the things that happen in horror movies aren’t real so they don’t scare me. Thunderstorms are real.” Cancer is real.
“I’d never let anything happen to you,” he said, his voice low and deep, so confident that he could protect me from unseen dangers. “You’re safe. We’re safe. Everything is okay.”
“Okay.” Except that everything wasn’t okay. While I was trying so hard to hold everything together, it was all falling apart, and so was I. Not that he needed to know that.
As if he could read my thoughts, he gave my hand a gentle squeeze, a reminder that he was right there next to me. We crossed the concrete floor and when we stopped in front of the fuse box, he handed me his phone.
“Hold it up for me so I can see the box.” I did as he asked, training the light on the fuse box so he could see what he was doing.
He studied it for a moment then flipped a few switches and looked up the basement stairs. It was still dark. “It’s not the fuses. Power must have gone out.”
“Great,” I said, my shoulders sagging. “So we’re stuck without electricity in the middle of a storm?”
“Looks that way. Have you got any candles?”
I tossed my crust in the box and Jude grabbed it and ate it in two bites. We’d demolished the pizza and now there wasn’t even a piece of crust left.
“So, why did you quit the cheering squad?”
I shrugged one shoulder and took a sip of my Coke, letting a curtain of hair cover the side of my face that was turned to him. “It wasn’t really my thing.”
He flicked my arm. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing always means something.”
“Did you learn that in Psych 101?”
“I learned that in Lila 101. I know you like a book.”
“Oh really.” I turned in my seat and sat cross-legged, my back against the armrest. He kicked back and propped his Nike-clad feet on the coffee table. The flicker of the flames from the candles danced across his face. “So you think you can read me?”
“Yep,” he said, so sure of himself.
“Then why do you need to ask if you already know me like a book?”
He carved his hand through his hair and turned his head to look at me. I forced myself to meet his gaze. He licked his lips and for a moment I saw a flicker of guilt cross his face. So fleeting I might have imagined it.
Not like we’d ever promised to be each other’s first. Not like we were anything more than just friends.
“What did you hear?”
“Pfft.” I waved my hand in the air. “I don’t have time for idle gossip.”
“It didn’t mean anything. The kiss,” he clarified.
From what I’d heard, it wasn’t just a kiss. By the sound of it, they’d done a lot more than just kiss. I’d missed that stupid party. I’d missed the fruity vodka drinks and the shots and the kissing and the sex or whatever else had happened at yet another of Ashleigh’s infamous pool parties.
I didn’t go to parties anymore because I needed to be here. Just in case.
Most of the time, my mom was asleep. She slept more than she was awake these days. But still. I didn’t want
