Better Than Perfect by Melissa Kantor Read Free Book Online Page A

sat up, I saw that a guy in a white T-shirt and cargo shorts was jogging toward me. I wondered how many more people were in the van. It was turning out to be some kind of fucking clown car.
    The guy bent down and put his head through the passenger-side window of my car. Sofia complained that because I had Jason, I never noticed how hot other guys were, but this guy was objectively hot. He had the same blue eyes as the other people in the van and the same black hair. His shoulders were broad under his T-shirt. If Sofia had been sitting next to me, she would have texted me He’s hawt .
    He gave me a slightly nervous smile. “My sister thought you might need a hand driving.” Like the girl and the younger boy, he had a British accent. “She said she’s always shaken up after a near miss like that. Which should tell you something about her driving. Do you want me to drive you up to the parking lot?”
    â€œNo, I’m fine,” I said. My voice was clipped; I sounded like my mom when she talked to a pushy waiter.
    Neither of us said anything for a minute. All you could hear was the quiet, except for a sound almost like a moth hitting a screen. When I turned to face the front of the car, I saw that my hand, which was holding the car registration, was shaking so much that the card was flapping against the steering wheel. I could tell that the boy was seeing it also.
    â€œIt’s no trouble for me to drive you,” he said finally.
    â€œYeah,” I said after another long pause during which I studied the black skid marks on the asphalt. “Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”
    My legs were rubbery, so rubbery I wondered if I couldstand up, so I slid over to the passenger seat. The guy waited until I was settled, then walked around the car, opened the door, and got in. He slid the seat back, closed the door, and started the car up the hill. Neither of us said a word.
    â€œI’m Declan, by the way.”
    â€œI’m Juliet,” I said. I looked out the window. As we crested the hill, the two rows of trees ended and a wide lawn opened up in front of us, topped by the enormous clubhouse. A green-and-white awning swayed gently over the wide porch. There was the tinkle of piano music that I knew was coming from the lounge just on the other side of the veranda. Politics aside, there was something comforting about being at the Milltown Country Club, and I wanted to wrap it around me like a cashmere sweater.
    In front of us, the van wound around to the side of the building, a route I’d never taken before. The guy driving my car—I’d forgotten his name already—followed it for a few yards, then suddenly slammed the brakes. I jerked forward. “Sorry,” he said. “We’re the band for tonight, so I was going to the service entrance. But there must be a members’ parking lot.”
    â€œNo, I’m not a member,” I said. I purposely didn’t add but my boyfriend is . When Jason and I started going out, I referred to him as my boyfriend about every five seconds. But freshman year, another couple in our group of friends got together, and I had to listen to Bethany say my boyfriend ten thousandtimes a day. Ever since then, I tried never to say those words. “I’m going to see my friend,” I explained. “She works here. So, I mean, the service entrance is fine.”
    â€œGreat,” he said, driving again. “Maybe you and your friend will come to the show.”
    I shook my head. “I don’t think so.” I was going to tell Sofia what had happened and then . . . well, I didn’t know what then. But I certainly wasn’t going to sit through a concert.
    The driveway ran between two rows of hedges along the lowest level of the back of the building, a part of the club I’d never seen. I was rubbing my hands against my thighs as if they were sweaty, which they weren’t, and I imagined that the