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

music down and back out of the driveway. I have no idea where I’m going or what I’m going to do. I’m so not in the mood to chase Madison anymore, and B. J.’s definitely done for the night. And all my other friends are probably at Jeremy’s party. I drive around aimlessly for a few minutes, and then I remember Courtney McSweeney’s number, written on a piece of paper in my wallet.

courtney before
    125 Days Before the Trip, 11:37 p.m.
    So I chickened out. About telling Lloyd, I mean. But it wasn’t really my fault, because while we were leaving the party, we ran into Olivia Meacham outside, and she was all over Lloyd in one of those “I’m making it clear you can have sex with me if you want” kind of ways. Which I could never figure out. How girls can do that, I mean. I’m always terrified of giving a guy any idea I might like him, so I overcompensate by acting like I don’t. Like tonight, for example. I totally wanted to dance with Jordan. But I hesitated because:
I thought I would look stupid. Which I probably did, but hopefully everyone was too drunk to notice.
I didn’t want him to think I wanted him. Because I don’t. I want Lloyd. But the point is, no matter who it is, a guy I don’t like or a guy I do, I don’t want them to think I like them.
    Anyway. There was Olivia Meacham, wearing a frayed denim skirt that I’d tried on once in Hollister with Jocelyn and then vetoed because it was way too short, and a blue halter top that showed off her stomach. It’s taken me, oh, I don’t know, five years to get up the courage to even think about telling Lloyd I like him. Olivia transferred into our school around Christmas, and three months later she’s practically going down on him at this party.
    Anyway, Lloyd starting flirting with Olivia, and the next thing I knew, she was in the car with us, and Lloyd was giving us both a ride home. And Lloyd dropped me off first. Which was kind of weird, since he made that whole production out of making sure I was riding home with him, when that wasn’t even the plan to begin with. But I’m not stupid. I know you always drop the third wheel off first.
    So here I am, at home, by myself, and it’s kind of this big letdown. I really did want to tell him. And I can’t even bitch about it to Jocelyn, because she’s not answering her phone or replying to my text messages.
    And of course no one’s on instant messenger, because everyone’s either sleeping or out. I download a few songs from iTunes, and then decide to see if Jordan has a MySpace. Not because I like him or anything. But because I’m curious.
    “Jordan Richman,” I type into the search bar, and his profile pops up on the screen. The song he’s chosen is “Let’s All Get Drunk Tonight” by Afroman. Charming. I scroll through his pics. One of him at school, hanging out in the quad, one of him with his brother, Adam, who I recognize because he was a senior when we were freshman. And a bunch of Jordan with girls. Seriously, he has like ten pics of him with girls. Don’t the girls get mad? I wonder. That they’re on his page with a bunch of other girl pics?
    I hit the back button and check out his friends. 789 friends. Quite the popular one, that Jordan. I have 117.
    I scroll through the comments.
    Seems like he and “Mad Madd Madison” have quite the MySpace flirtation going on. I go back and forth between their profiles, reading them. “What are you wearing?” Jordan asked her. “Why don’t you come over and I’ll show you,” Madison wrote back. Gag. They couldn’t come up with anything better than that? How lame.
    My cell phone rings, and I reach for it, figuring it’s Jocelyn calling me back. But the caller ID shows a number I don’t recognize.
    “Hello?”
    “Court?”
    “This is Courtney,” I say, cradling the phone between my shoulder and chin and scrolling through Madison’s pictures, most of which show her pouting for the camera, and wearing bathing suits. Seriously, bathing