Page 62 of PS: I Hate You
“Has my mom called you?” I blurt.
Dom’s lips tighten, and I know the answer even before he gives a short nod.
“Did she ask to come on these trips?” I clarify.
“Cecilia doesn’taskto do anything.”
Though accurate, I don’t like how he phrased his answer. My stare swings toward where we parked, expecting to see her striding toward us in her designer bohemian wear, talking about how this reminds her of Burning Man.
“I told her no.” Dom’s low voice brings my attention back to him.
“You did?”
In that moment, I realize Dom still has his hands on me, and his thumbs are rubbing soothing circles against the bare skin my tank top reveals. As if coming to the same realization, Dom drops his hands and slips them in the pockets of his shorts.
“Did Josh ever tell you about the time we got your mom’s car towed on purpose?”
I gape at the man I’d always thought of as Mr.Responsible. “No.” I choke on the word and my disbelief.
Dom’s lips tilt in a rueful smirk. “Josh showed up at school and I could tell he was pissed. And you know, he didn’t get mad. I knew it was bad. He told me Cecilia had thrown out a bunch of your books when you weren’t home. Books that meant a lot to you.”
I remember that. One was a signed copy by my favorite authorthat I only had because Josh drove me to a bookstore in the city and stood in line with me for an hour so I could meet her.
Cecilia had apparently wanted the shelf to display her collection of healing crystals and didn’t see the point in me keeping books I’d already read.
“After school, we went by your house, got the spare key to her car. Josh knew she was in a yoga class or something, so we found her car, parked it in a fire lane, then called the cops to report it.”
“Oh my god.” I gape at him. “You didn’t.”
“I did.” Dom leans in close, until our foreheads almost touch, and holds my eyes with his. “I don’t regret it. Never have. Never will. You both deserved better than her. Better than Florence, too.”
I swallow hard and turn away, mind reeling as I think about the immature but also oddly sweet act Josh and Dom did for me.
“That…” I clear my throat, certain the dry air is what is making it so hard to speak. “That was a good one. Guess it’s my turn to think of a story.”
Dom grunts and steps around me, walking into the bright sunlight.
The glow of midday caresses his skin, soaking into his arms and neck like kisses from a lover. The sun adores the Perry family as much as it hates me. Still, just because Dom tans when I burn doesn’t mean he’s immune to an overabundance of UV rays.
“Sunscreen!” I call after him.
He pauses halfway across the narrow dirt road, turning back to me. With sunglasses over his eyes, I can’t read his expression. But even if he’s rolling his eyes in exasperation, I will not let up on this.
“Did you put on any sunscreen?” I ask as I jog up to him, pulling my backpack off so I can rummage in it for the bottle I bought at the airport gift shop.
“No. It’s fine.”
“It’s fine,” I mutter in a deep voice, mocking him. “Arms out.”
Dom hesitates, then extends his mile-long arms. Luckily, I decided to buy the spray type. My lungs do weird fluttery clenches when I imagine rubbing lotion on every inch of exposed skin.
Spray allows me to keep my distance.
I apply a coating of protection to his arms, then his legs from the knees down. When I circle around his back, I encounter a problem.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re entirely too tall?”
He snorts. I poke him in the kidney.