Cally

“Were you just going to leave without saying goodbye?” William tucks his hands in his pockets, and there’s something more reserved about his body language. As he’s the one who’s been hurt here.

I thought William was better, different than other guys. But what do I know? Just because I’m attracted to him and he has a sexy smile doesn’t mean I should assume he’s better than the average horn dog. Heck, maybe that’s why he isn’t worried about the rumor. How do I know he didn’t start it?

Even as I think the question, I know the answer. I know he didn’t start the rumor because there’s a goodness in his eyes that can’t be faked. But is that enough of a reason to trust him?

I want to erase the last twenty minutes, to go back to the dance floor when I believed he might actually want me for me. But I’m not that stupid, and I can’t let myself be.

Suddenly, in the war between my body and brain, my brain wins. And my brain is furious.

“I’m not a slut.” The words drop like mini-grenades from my lips, detonating the minute they register with him and obliterating that invisible pull between us.

“Excuse me?”

I shrug. “I’m not stupid. I know there’s only one reason a guy like you wants to spend time with a girl like me, but you have the wrong idea. I’m not like that.”

“A guy…” He draws in a long breath, his jaw ticking. “A guy like me?”

“Money, good looks, status?” I say, using Kristen’s words. “But I’m not going to be your easy lay. If that’s what you’re after, you should go talk to the girls inside. I’m sure you’ll find some takers.”

He steps back, pain flashing in his eyes. “I would think that someone who struggles with people’s assumptions about her would be more careful about making them about others.”

“What am I supposed to think?”

He looks up at the dark sky and laughs, a hollow, disappointed sound. The clouds obscure the moonlight and only the distant streetlight reveals his face.

I feel the icy rain hit my cheeks before I see it. Then it’s coming down faster, stinging my face as we stare at each other.

His jaw is hard and he shrugs. “Forget it.”

My stomach tightens in disappointment. What did I expect him to do?

“Catch up with your friends before they get too far,” he mutters. “I don’t like you walking alone in the dark.” Then he turns and jogs back to the house, and I’m left feeling like a world-class bitch.

***

William

“You ready to talk about it yet?” Max asks me as we head to the cafeteria for lunch on Monday.

“Talk about what?” I’ve been in a shit mood since Saturday night, so I can probably guess.

“Who pissed you off, for starters? Or maybe why you skipped out on my party so early?”

I feel my jaw go hard at the mention of the party.

“Ah, so it is girl trouble,” he says.

“You’re worse than a woman. Mind your own business.”

“Didn’t work out with Cally?”

I scan the notifications on my phone, buying time while I think of how to reply, how much to share. Cally and I are from different worlds. There’s a division between the Haves and Have Nots. Even in a place as small as New Hope—especially in a place as small as New Hope. And especially in this school. But maybe that’s part of the appeal. Maybe I like Cally so much because she’s outside my typical circle.

“It wasn’t because of what Kristen said to her, was it?” Max asks. We stop at his locker, and he turns the dial and yanks it open before shoving some books inside.

I scan the lunchtime crowd gathering in the space between the cafeteria and the glass enclosure around the pool. Cally has the same lunch period as me, but she doesn’t always come down. “What did Kristen say?”

Max shrugs. “You should probably ask Cally. I wasn’t there so I didn’t hear it, but Ally said Kristen was feeding Cally shit about you only wanting her for one thing.”

I wince. “And she didn’t say anything?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “She didn’t know what was up with you and the Fisher girl, so what could she have said?”

“Nothing is up with her. We’re friends.”

Max grunted. “You looked like a lot more than friends when your face was buried in her tits.”

“Fuck off.” The suggestion doesn’t carry much weight when my heart isn’t in it.

“So, you didn’t leave with Cally, I’m gathering?” He slams his locker shut and we start toward the cafeteria again.

I sigh. “She took off. Told me there was only one reason a guy like me would be interested in a girl like her.” The words have an entirely different meaning now that I know Kristen was talking shit.

“And you let her go?”

I take a deep breath and stop, leaning against the wall. I’m not up to eating today, though my football coach would be on my ass if he knew I was skipping meals. “It was a bitchy thing to say.”

Max nods. “Can’t argue with you there. But given her mom’s reputation and what Kristen said to her, you can’t blame her for being cautious.”

“I guess.”

“Goddamn Kristen,” I grumble, my eyes still scanning the crowd for Cally. “What was she thinking?”

“Probably that if you were going to be using someone for sex, she wanted it to be her.”

“Well, she’s already given me that opportunity. I passed.”

Max shoves his sleeves up his arms. “Damn. Must be tough to be you.”

I shrug, not about to explain the truth—that I don’t want to be the guy girls like Kristen pursue so viciously.

“There are rumors,” Max says, averting his eyes. “I don’t know if you’ve heard them. Rumors that you paid Cally to have sex with you.”

I drag my hand over my face. “Yeah. I know.”

“And if she’s not even talking to you anymore, it’s only going to fuel the gossip.”

“Do I look like I care about rumors?”

“That’s why you’re better than the rest of us.” He slaps me on the back and pauses a beat. “You’re not going to tell me if they’re true, are you?”

My head snaps up. “Cally is not a f**king prostitute. Jesus.”

“Easy, killer!” He holds up both hands and shakes his head. “I know you didn’t pay her. I’m just wondering about the other part. But you’re too classy to tell me. Never mind.”

“We didn’t have sex. She’s not like that.” I spot that long, dark hair at the entrance to the auditorium. And Kenny. “Damn it.”

“Good luck with the girl,” Max calls as I rush away.

“He’s done with you,” Kenny’s saying when I get close. “I’m just waiting my turn.”

Cally’s arms are wrapped around her middle and her face has gone pale. “I don’t have sex for money.”

“So you’re trying to say there’s something between you and the rich boy? Because it’s pretty clear to the rest of us what you are to him. And when he—”

Kenny doesn’t get to finish, because I’m spinning him around and slamming him against the wall, my forearm pressed into his neck. “What’s that you’re saying, Riles?”

Kenny scowls at me. “Thought you were done with her, man.”

Fuck. No wonder Cally thinks the worst of me. That’s what everyone is telling her to think.

“You’re lucky I don’t beat the shit out of you,” I say in his ear.

“Bailey!” I hear the teacher’s voice and back off Kenny, dropping my arm and releasing him. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” I force a smile. “Just having a little chat.”

“Let’s keep it that way,” she says, but she walks away, too sure of my reputation to stop her patrol.

Kenny shakes his head. “She’s not worth it.” Then he walks away.

When I turn back to Cally, she’s staring at me. “Thank you,” she whispers. “I guess you’re kind of my knight in shining armor lately.”

I nod. “No problem.” I start to walk away.

“William.”

The sound of my name off her lips stops me in my tracks, and I turn back.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly. “I should never have believed what that girl told me. You’re a nice guy, and it didn’t add up. I should’ve known better than to think the worst.”

She looks so sweet standing there, guilt all over her features, and my heart is still slamming in my chest from seeing Kenny bearing down on her like that.

“Let’s put a stop to these rumors,” I say without thinking. “Go on a date with me this weekend. I won’t let everyone think I just used you for sex.” Or worse, paid her for it.

“Oh. Um…” She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, then nods as her cheeks flame red. “Right. Sure.”

“I’ll pick you up on Friday at six.”

***

Cally

I don’t feel sorry for myself very often. Maybe I should. My family doesn’t have money, and I’ve never been able to dress like the kids at school. When I was ten, I had to quit dance lessons because we couldn’t afford them anymore. I loved dance more than anything, but I understood quitting was a necessity so I never cried about it. Never complained.

My dad taught me to be grateful for the things we do have. A roof over our heads—better than some can say—a family to come home to, and the free will to dream up and go after whatever life we want.

But tonight, I’m thinking of William Bailey and having quite the pity party. I’m thinking about Kenny and his snickering friends and wondering if a pity date with William is really going to solve anything. But mostly, I’m just wishing my mom were different.

She’s at the computer when I head out into the living room to confront her. Dad bought a bunch of used components at a sale at the college and pieced together a computer that’s supposed to be for my school papers, but Mom uses it more than I do. I don’t know what she does on there. I once told myself it was work for her business, but I don’t believe that anymore.

“What are you doing?” I step up behind her. She’s got some sort of realty site pulled up and is looking at pictures of houses.

“Ever wonder what it would be like to start over?” Her voice is slurred and I spot the glass next to her. Looks like orange juice, but Mom doesn’t do OJ without vodka. And she’s probably taken her pills since she got home. In other words, it’s four p.m.

“Not really,” I lie. Because I have thought of it. How could I not? But I don’t want to have some fanciful conversation with her while she’s like this. I frown at the photos on the screen. She must be drunk. We could never afford a place like that.

“I’m going to make it happen,” she says, as if reading my thoughts. “I’m going to find a way for us to start over. To live large for once.” She takes in a deep breath, a woozy smile half curling her lips as she lifts her glass for a drink.

I don’t normally feel sorry for myself and I don’t normally hate my mother, but right now I’m disgusted with her. Just say it. “Did you give Kenny Riles a hand job?”

Her glass clatters down on the old desk, and she spins to look at me, blinking. “Who’s Kenny?”

I wither right there. Like a flower shoved into a dehydrator. Like a star blotted out by the clouds. Not “What are you talking about?” but “Who?”

“I go to school with Kenny. He said he paid you twenty bucks for a hand job.”

She draws her bottom lip between her teeth and chews on it. Her eyes are glassy and she tilts her head to the side. “The name doesn’t ring a bell. Is he one of my clients?”

I try to laugh but it sounds wild and crazy, and then suddenly my stomach is crawling into my throat and I can’t stand it anymore. I rush to the bathroom and throw up.

I squat hunched over the toilet, listening to the once-comforting sounds of Mom running cold water. My stomach is empty by the time she places the cool cloth on my neck.

“I have an appointment Friday,” she says. She hands me a plastic My Little Pony cup filled to the brim with water. “Can you watch the girls? I think your dad has a meeting.”

An appointment. She just all but admitted that she does sexual favors for her clients—though I think she’s oblivious to what I gleaned from the conversation—and now she wants me to watch the girls so she can meet with one of them? Fuck no. “I have a date,” I say. “I guess you’ll have to cancel your appointment.”

She frowns. “A date? Who’s the boy?”

“William Bailey.” I lift my chin. I know she’ll recognize the name, and I want her to understand that not everyone who lives in this house has sold out. I want her to know that nice boys still want to be with me.

Even if it’s not exactly true.

“Oh, sweet Cally. What do you think a Bailey wants with you? Don’t give it up to him. Your dad was so sweet to me when I was your age and I got pregnant. Look what became of my life. Don’t let him steal your chances for a good future.”

I clench my fist because I want to slap her. The only one who’s stolen my chances is standing right in front of me.

Chapter Five

William

“Make sure you save room for dessert,” the waiter says.