Suddenly Doug's finger was under my chin, tilting my face up so he could look into my eyes. I had no idea how long he'd been crouching in front of me, propped on his crutches. "This is why I came," he said. "I figured you were running on adrenaline this morning but you'd crash tonight. And I knew you'd come to the meet, because you're such a dork." "I love it when you talk dirty." This was not the thing to say. Doug was telling me he cared about me. He'd come to the meet to watch over me. I should say the right thing and then we would have a little conversation. He would feel comforted because he'd connected with another human in the very small way that was the only way Doug ever connected with anybody. He'd limp back to the van and fall asleep to sweet dreams. I couldn't think of the right thing to say.
"Go take some Tylenol," he told me.
"I can't," I whispered. "It won't be four hours for another hour."
"Go--take--some--Tylenol," he said in the stern voice of my mom when I talked back.
I found the bottle in my backpack and swallowed three pills at the water fountain. Relaxed against the painted cement block wall (ah, nice and cool) and stared into space for a while. Followed my teammates to the van. Leaned heavily on each seat as I passed. Thank God the backseat was empty. I would still need to argue over it with Doug, but at least I could argue lying down. He was welcome to share the seat with me. Lying down in more cramped quarters shouldn't bother him. With Percocet on his side, he could fall asleep in a mosh pit. 7 "Zoey! Doug!"
"What," I grumbled into the seat. I could tell from the way my face resisted movement that the fabric texture had imprinted itself on my skin.
"Captain Anderson's!" Keke sang. Captain Anderson's in Panama City was my favorite tourist trap seafood restaurant. And there was no way I was getting off this van. My headache had faded, but I was asleep. Gone. Checked out of the ocean-side resort.
"Fuck off," Doug said. His voice came from right beside me. I was lying on my stomach, so he must be lying on his side against the seat back.
The front doors slammed, and the side door rolled shut.
A stuffy silence settled. Even though night had fallen, the van was too warm with the air conditioner off. Welcome to Florida.
Doug slid along my body, backing out one end of the seat without disturbing me. Now that plenty of seats were available, he wanted his own. Fine. I spread out over the whole seat like an ice cube melting, liquifying faster as my fingers touched the upholstery still hot from his body. Dreams of him were better than the real thing.
A creak and a thump. He cranked open one window, then another.
His weight flattened the seat padding as he slid next to me again. It made sense for him to return. He'd have to lie with me when the team got on the van anyway. And if he felt as bad as I did, he wanted to move as few times as possible.
Back to dreams of him. He probably couldn't help his knee touching my thigh.
"Zoey," he said, reaching into the Bug. He lifted me out and carried me across the grass. Behind us, the Bug exploded (the deer had wandered to the shoulder and was peering at us through the trees). Even as tall and solid as Doug was, the shock wave slammed him to the ground. He twisted in midair so he took the brunt of the landing and I was cushioned on top of him.
"Doug, I'm so sorry," I murmured.
"It's not your fault," he whispered. "Hush now." His knee pressed my thigh. His knee nudged my thighs open as his tongue opened my mouth. He kissed me hard in the soft rain. I shivered.
I TOOK ONE MORE BREATH THROUGH my nose as the van came to life around me. Without opening my eyes I knew exactly what had happened. I'd gotten cold when Coach turned the air conditioner on, and I'd snuggled close to Doug. I recognized his scent of sea and chlorine. Now we'd parked at our high school. The lights were on and the team gathered their bags and shuffled through the door. Every one of them probably peered into the backseat to see what Doug and I were up to.
But maybe Doug wouldn't know I'd snuggled up to him. Maybe he was still asleep and I had nothing to worry about. I opened my eyes.
He was staring down at me.
I jumped in surprise.
"Sorry," he said. "I wanted to make sure you had normal pupil reflexes."
I started to ease up into a sitting position, but something held me down. Doug's long fingers circled my arm. His thumb pressed my wrist.
"Checking your pulse." He let me go. "Now it's sped up."
Was he telling me he knew I'd dreamed about him? I asked casually, "What would my pulse tell you anyway?"
"Do I look like a doctor?" He bent down. I bent too, to grab his crutches for him, but he'd already snagged them from the floor.
He crutched up the aisle. At the sliding door he paused to say something to Keke. She nodded. Then he placed the tips of his crutches carefully on the pavement outside the van and heaved himself down. I couldn't see him fall but I heard him yell, "Fuck!"
"Zoey, girlfriend," Keke called back to me. "Y ou're spending the night with Lila and me so we can keep an eye on you."
Gabriel said something about girl-on-girl-on-girl action. Lila vaulted over two seat backs to slap him. Everyone remaining on the bus gathered around them to watch. Everyone, that is, except Mike. Right in front of me, he bent to stuff his belongings into his bag, then turned for the door.
As he turned, he looked straight at me. Then he looked away just as quickly so I'd think his eyes were simply wandering as he exited the bus.
But I'd seen it. And he'd blushed. As if he'd witnessed everything I'd done to Doug in the grass beside the wreck, and he was embarrassed for me that I'd do such a thing while I had a relationship with Brandon.
Or as if he were angry Doug had asked him to lie to everyone, including Brandon, and pretend he hadn't seen what I'd done.
Or . . . like he wanted to get out of the van before I could ask him any questions about the wreck. Like he knew something I didn't.
"Come on, girl." Lila pulled me.
"I can't stay with you," I murmured. "My dad expects me home."
"Doug said your dad is gone and your mom is out of town and we need to keep an eye on you," Keke informed me.
Your mom is out of town. I laughed at this euphemism. At least Doug wasn't spilling the beans about her. As long as nobody knew about it, I could keep pretending it hadn't happened.
"My dad expects me home," I insisted. "He has ways of checking on me."
"Call him," Lila said. "Or we'll get our mother to call him if he doesn't believe you."