Free The Last Time We Were Us by Leah Konen Page A

anymore.”
    There’s another pause, and this time I can hear him breathing, and I wonder what his face looks like right now, if he’s shaved since the other day, if his lips are pulled to a frown.
    “And you don’t know everything you think you know about me, either,” he says finally.
    He sounds almost like a character in a movie, with his vague allusions to innocence: You don’t know the whole story! I was framed, I tell ya, framed!
    Is he telling me the truth, or is it just what he thinks I want to hear?
    “I know enough.” As it comes out, I realize it’s exactly what MacKenzie said.
    “Listen, I understand why you don’t want to be seen with me. And why you don’t really like me calling your house. I know you’re not going to invite me over for dinner and pretend it’s the good old days.”
    I lie back on the bed, stretch my feet out. “You’re catching on. Good job.”
    “But if you saw the look on my dad’s face when I told him I saw you. And then he just kept asking about you, and . . .” He sighs. “Maybe I gave him the wrong impression. Maybe I made it sound like we’re still friends.”
    “What?” I sit back up.
    “You did come to see me.”
    “That was a mistake. And I don’t want you blabbing about it.”
    “I’m not. And I won’t. But I kind of told him you’d come over for dinner.”
    I pick at the skin around my nails, hunting for an excuse.
    “You don’t have to stay long,” he adds. “But he’d love to see you. You can’t possibly know how much he would love to see you.”
    I do know how much, because I want to see him, too. “I don’t know.”
    “Please. For him. My dad never touched Skip.” It’s the first time I’ve heard the name come out of his mouth. “He doesn’t deserve what happened. Maybe I do. But he doesn’t.”
    And it’s true. It’s the only thing he’s said about that night that I know, without a doubt, is true.
    “Come by tomorrow night,” he says. “Please.”
    I’m supposed to be home for dinner with Benny and Lyla tomorrow, but it’ll give me an excuse to leave early. “Okay, okay. But I can’t stay for dinner. I have plans.”
    “That’s fine. Just say hi. That’s all he wants.”
    “Okay. I’ll be there around five. You happy?”
    “Very happy,” Jason says. “Very, very happy.”
    I NNIS DOESN’T TEXT.
    Sadie and Mary Ryan are in hellion mode the next morning, which distracts me for a little while at least. Still, I spend my post-babysitting hours in a haze of Chunky Monkey ice cream and advice pieces on the internet. Survey says that if he doesn’t respond within twenty-four hours, he’s definitely not that into you. A follow-up quiz on the teenybopper site I’m embarrassed to say I still frequent is annoyingly inconclusive. Needing to throw more search terms at my problem, I ask the internet what age you should be when you first have sex, and I get a mix of creepy posts and sad blogs, so I delete my history in case Mom looks later, and I try to focus on other things.
    I have no choice but to lie to Mom as I head to Jason’s. I tell her I’m going to MacKenzie’s, and I promise to be back in time for the all-important family dinner. She tells me how amazing my nails look as I head out the door.
    His apartment is just a few miles from the gas station, in a tall, plain complex that rises out of the parking lot like a bump on a cartoon character’s head.
    I pull out my phone to confirm the address, and see a text from Jason.
excited to see you
    Of course, there’s nothing from Innis.
    I know it’s Jason’s apartment before I even see the number. The door sports a wreath of creamy magnolias, and there’s a mat I recognize from childhood: WELCOME, Y’ALL.
    Nostalgia strikes again.
    Jason opens the door before I even knock. “You came.”
    “Were you just standing there waiting for me?”
    “I heard shuffling. I was excited. I thought maybe you wouldn’t show up.” He waves me in. “I’m glad you did.”
    The