“Uh huh.” Sharon studied me through narrowed eyes. With a huff, the tension burst and she relaxed into a real smile. “I suppose. I just—miss you.”
That revelation slapped down my judgment. “We don’t have that many classes together.” Thank God.
“We don’t haveanyclasses,” Sharon complained. Funnily enough, that wasn’t my fault. She’d had to swap a class and that took her out of the two we’d shared.
She shifted her stance, refolding her arms as some of the confidence bled out of her and left a more uncertain girl behind. “That’s part of the problem. We were so tight all summer.”
“No,” I said, correcting her gently. “We were both really busy this summer.” I’d had classes, a couple of college visits, and Sharon had gone to Europe with her parents for three weeks.
“But wemadetime for each other.” She closed the distance between us and planted her hands on the motorcycle. “You remember when you were looking at the different bikes with your dad?”
“Yeah.” I wasn’t sure where she was going with this. I’d never taken her on the bike. From the first day I got it. Sharon was not going to be my first passenger.
Period.
“So do I! You sent me photos, told me about the different ones and you let me help you pick.”
I blinked slowly. That was not how I recalled that conversation going. At all. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Where was she going with this?
“It has to do with you and me. I miss you, Bubba. I miss hanging out with you. I even miss the guys sometimes.” One corner of her mouth curved upward. “I miss the parties. Though—Archie’s last one was a little… you know. Out there.”
Every word she said, every smile she cast, every little gesture down to the way she lifted one hand and curled her fingers invited me to join in on the joke.
“Can you believe it with Frankie? Miss Goody Two Shoes took a dive and it only took a French guy to get her to go down on him.”
The ice that slammed into my veins did very little to cool either the temperature in the garage or the spike in my temper. “Excuseme?”
“Oh come on, Bubba.” She gave me a little pout. “I thought you and the boys got over that little crush finally. You definitely weren’t thinking about her while you were fucking me.”
No, I wasn’t. “One has nothing to do with the other. Leave Frankie out of this.”
Her expression darkened. “Why? Because you think you have a chance now that she popped her holy cherry with someone else?”
“Sharon.” It came out in a snap. “Don’t talk about Frankie like that.”
All traces of her smile vanished. “You’re a fool if you think her picking someone else means she’s going to go for you now. Archie is right there and he’s loaded, then there’s Coop, and they might as well be twins for how close they are, and we all know Jake is not patient.”
She struck a match to my temper with each name she ticked off in her little rant.
“One, I don’t care what you think.” I couldn’t be much clearer on that. “Two, who Frankie chooses or dates is not and has never been any of your business.” When she would have opened her mouth, I raised a hand and she silenced. “Third, most importantly of all, no one asked you for your opinion.”
“You know, I’m going to do you a favor…”
“Don’t.” Because I couldn’t think of anything I wanted less.
“Stop being such a child,” Sharon commented with a toss of her head. “You want her, you have to make her jealous.”
“Believe me when I say, I do not want your assistance or advice.”
She leaned forward, elbows on the seat of my bike. “C’mon Bubba, you know I can make it worth your while. Not to mention the fact I know exactly how to suck your?—”
“Shut up.” The anger boiling in me went cold. "Don't talk about her like that. You don't know anything about her."
Reeling back like I’d slapped her, Sharon glared at me. "Oh, please. Everyone knows about Frankie and her little harem. She's just stringing you all along, Bubba. She always has been. All four of you trotting after her like good little puppies. Evenwhen you were dating me, all she had to do was bat her eyes and off you went. Can't you see that?"
Jaw clenched, I counted to ten and then back down again. I didn’t punch people. Striking someone meant you lost control, and the argument, if you needed violence. I sure as shit didn’t punch girls.
