Free Just You by Rebecca Phillips Page B

lying was one of the worst sins imaginable. According
to her, it was right up there with murder. “You mean you changed
your mind ,” she said.
    “Sure, Ash.”
    I’d just finished telling them about what
happened with Michael on Saturday night, and already I regretted
ever opening my mouth. Fearing this exact reaction, I’d kept it to
myself for four whole days, savoring it like a huge, gooey brownie.
But now the truth was out, and it was time for my friends to pick
apart my hypocrisy, piece by agonizing piece.
    “I’m psyched for you, Taylor,” Erin said,
smoothing her long black hair behind her ears. “It’s about time you
made Brian suffer. If you want, I can go up to him in biology and
casually let it slip that you have a new boyfriend.”
    I slammed my milk down on the table and then
scanned the cafeteria, checking to see if anyone nearby was
listening. No one seemed to be paying any attention to us. “I’m not
trying to make Brian jealous,” I hissed. “And I do not have
a new boyfriend.”
    “What is he then?” Ashley asked.
    “Just a guy,” I said, emphasizing each word.
Just a hot guy, I thought to myself, a guy I liked to kiss,
a lot. And talk to. And be with. And think about. “Nothing
serious.”
    “Defensive much?” Erin said as our friend
Brooke Smithson sat down at our table across from Ashley.
    “Who’s defensive?” Brooke asked, opening up
a small container of blueberry yogurt. We’d known Brooke since
seventh grade but she only hung out with us occasionally, like when
she wasn’t busy with drama class or a play. Which was rare.
    “Taylor,” Erin said through a mouthful of
potato chips.
    I sighed. This was going to be a long
lunch.
    “What’s wrong?” Brooke turned to me with her
big blue eyes already full of sympathy. In addition to being a
tall, graceful, wildly popular Gwyneth Paltrow look-alike and one
of the most talented actresses in school, Brooke was also
exceptionally nice.
    “Nothing,” I said, smiling at her.
    “She says she doesn’t have a new boyfriend
but we don’t believe her,” Ashley said.
    “Oh?” She turned back to me, intrigued now.
“Who is he?”
    “Just a guy,” Erin said in that same deep
baritone.
    “His name’s Michael,” I told Brooke.
    She tossed her white-blond hair off her face
and scooped up a spoonful of yogurt. “And?”
    “And he’s nice. He lives in Redwood
Hills.”
    “Cute?”
    “When I asked her that earlier, she
practically slobbered all over the table,” Ashley said with a
smirk. “So I’m guessing yes.”
    Brooke flashed me her toothpaste-commercial
smile. “He sounds perfect.”
    “Yeah,” I said, pushing my tray away. “He
kind of is.”
    Out of habit, my gaze zeroed in on Brian and
Kara, seated at their customary table over by the windows. As usual
they were draped all over each other, nuzzling and cooing over
their orange plastic trays and making everyone around them lose
their appetites. As I watched the easy affection between them, I
waited for the familiar taste of bitterness in my mouth. But for
some reason, this time it never came.
     
    ****
     
    Since Halloween night, Michael and I had
been talking on the phone almost every day. We were getting to know
each other, something Brian and I never had to do because we
already knew each other so well when we started dating. But
everything about Michael was different from what I knew. Or thought
I knew. It was exciting, I discovered, getting to know someone this
way. Learning about them and their lives.
    And that first week, I learned a lot about
Michael. Little things, like that he loved medieval history, James
Bond movies, and baseball. That he’d worked at the golf course near
his house every summer since he was thirteen. That his father was a
workaholic, and his mother was a nurse, like Lynn, only at a
different hospital. That his sisters annoyed him a lot, but he’d
gladly pound any boy who ever tried to mess with them. That he’d
never tried drugs,