Two-Way Street by Lauren Barnholdt Read Free Book Online Page A

freshmen. The freshmen thing is obviously easy to avoid, while the psychotics pose a bit more of a problem. It’s not like girls walk around with “I’m crazy” stamped on their chests.
    I decide to head around the party the long way, and then sneak up on Madison from behind. How cute would that be, me doing to her the same trick she pulled earlier? But when I make my way through the crowd to where Madison and her friends were standing, the only one there is B. J. His leprechaun hat is stained with beer and he’s sitting on the ground, looking dejected.
    “Dude,” I say, crouching down next to him. “You okay?”
    “Yeah,” he says mournfully. “I’m okay. I’m just drunk.”
    “Sucks.”
    “Yeah,” he agrees.
    “Hey, you didn’t happen to notice where Madison Allesio and her friends went, did you?”
    “I’m not sure,” he says, looking thoughtful. He frowns, pulls his leprechaun hat off his head, and twists it in his hands. “I think they said something about going to Jeremy Norfolk’s house.” Shit. Jeremy Norfolk was also having a party tonight, and apparently Madison and her friends took off while they were supposed to be waiting for me. I’m impressed in spite of myself, and a little bit turned on. Any girl who ditches me while I’m in the process of trying to make her jealous is hot.
    “You want to head over to Jeremy’s?” I ask B. J. He looks at me, his eyes glazed over and the front of his leprechaun outfit soaked in beer.
    “Yes.” He nods.
    “Dude, you’re shot,” I say. “You’re not going anywhere but home. Come on.” I try to help B. J. up without actually getting too close to him. No way I want to kick it to Madison smelling like drunk leprechaun.
    Twenty minutes later, after getting B. J. some drive-thru coffee and bringing him home, I decide to stop at my house to reapply my cologne and kill some time. I can’t have Madison thinking I took off after her as soon as I realized she was gone.
    There’s an unfamiliar car in my driveway. My dad’s out of town, so I’m assuming it’s one of my mom’s clients—she’s a lawyer, and sometimes when she’s in the middle of a big case, she’ll have clients over to the house. I open the glove compartment and take a piece of gum out, popping it into my mouth just in case I smell like alcohol. I only had a couple of beers, but the last thing I need is to look drunk and disorderly in front of my mom and one of her clients.
    “Mom!” I call, moving through the foyer, and trying to calculate how long my mom might be up and working. She’s a heavy sleeper, and our house is big enough that if my mom’s asleep, I could totally bring Madison back here with me later on. “I’m home.”
    I hear some scuffling and whispers coming from the living room. I turn the corner, and that’s when I see it. My mom. On the couch, with her shirt unbuttoned. There’s some guy next to her, with his shirt OFF. And it’s not my dad. For a second, I just stand there.
    “Jordan,” my mom says, smoothing her hair. She pulls her shirt closed. “I didn’t think you’d be home until much later.”
    “Obviously,” I say, sizing up the guy she’s with. He doesn’t look embarrassed. Instead, he looks almost pleased. No one moves. We all just wait, not saying anything.
    “It’s okay,” I finally say. I turn around and head back toward the door. “I was actually going back out anyway, so…” I trail off, not really sure what I’m supposed to say.
    “You don’t have to,” the guy says. He stands up from the couch. “I was just leaving anyway.”
    “I know I don’t HAVE to,” I say, turning back around. “I live here.”
    “Jordan—” my mom starts, but I turn on my heel and head out to my car. I slam the door of my truck and turn the music up. Loud. I sit there for a second, expecting my mom to come rushing out after me, to explain, to tell me it was some weird misunderstanding. But she doesn’t.
    After a few minutes, I turn the