Her and Me and You by Lauren Strasnick

repeated.
    “No.”
    “Show me.” She hovered nearby, taunting him.
    “Adina.” He straightened up, swinging his hand, intending to push her away.
    “Come on, show me,” she said, catching his wrist. “I want to see.”
    “Let go.”
    “No.”
    “Come on, quit it—let go .”
    She kissed him. Like a girl might kiss a boy. One forceful, angry, little kiss. It lasted seconds but I swear, seemed like forever—me, frozen in disbelief and Fred, swatting and squirming like a caged cat.
    “We’re even,” she said to me when it was through. Both watched me, looking startled. Their mouths matched—both splotchy and red.
    “Fuck.” After a quiet moment or two, came the squall. “What the fuck was that? What’s wrong with you?” Fred stood quickly, tripping in place.
    I watched Adina. I felt dreamy. Disbelieving. She seemed so frail now, hunched over, drunk. Banana circled her, meowing madly, pawing at her knees.
    Fred to me: “Are you coming?”
    I got up.

37.
    We sat in the dark by the river, away from the Bishop house.
    “You okay?”
    Stupidly cold but, “Yeah.”
    “You want to go back to the car?”
    I mimed no , then wrapped my arms around my waist, bending forward. Fred threw a pebble into the water. It skipped twice, then sank. “We used to come here a lot as kids. She loved this place.”
    I picked a rock off the ground and rolled it between two fingers. What had changed? How had a kid who loved rivers and Audubon walks turned into such a malevolent freak?
    “What’re you thinking?” Fred asked.
    Why did I want to be a part of this? Something so insular and weird? “What do you think I’m thinking?”
    He touched my hands, then the ends of my hair. I flashedon Audrey, two towns over, in field hockey goggles and cleats. “Your girlfriend. She moved.”
    “Her dad changed jobs.”
    “Are you lying?”
    He looked hurt. I leaned over and scooped up a handful dirt.
    “What’s that for?”
    “This?” I held up my hand, inspecting it. The mud felt nice—heavy, cool. I squeezed it through my fingers and shook my hand clean. “Have you been with lots of other people?”
    “Other people?”
    “Like, other girls. Not Audrey. I know about Audrey.” I straightened up. “Adina says you’ve been with lots of other girls. That you’re a cheater. Is that true?”
    “Like, that I’ve slept with other girls?”
    “Yeah.”
    “That I cheated on Audrey?”
    “Mmhmm.”
    “Adina said that?”
    I nodded.
    “No, that’s not true.” I believed him. He looked so hopeless.
    “Come home with me?” I wanted that feeling back. The one from Grams’s porch. “Please?”
    “Yeah, of course I’ll come.”
    I grabbed Fred’s hand.
    *   *   *
We didn’t do anything. We just lay there, side by side, fully dressed, not sleeping. Fred stroked my hair and I rubbed his feet with my feet. We talked about dumb stuff, crap we hated and shitty books and stuff, and then around two, Adina texted: Where are you? She texted twice, then called. Fred sat up. He watched his phone flash.
    “Don’t answer it. Please,” I pleaded. I wouldn’t let her wreck this. “Not now, okay? Everything’s so nice right now.”
    He smiled at me. He dropped his phone to the floor and curled an arm around my shoulders and chest. He’d chosen me. For once, it was me and not her. I backed into him, feeling like I’d won some shiny prize. “Thanks,” I murmured, and Fred yanked the blankets tight, overhead. We stayed that way, under the covers, until it got hot and too hard to breathe. Later, when it was nearly light, Fred told me he’d had sex only once, with Audrey Glick. And that afterward she refused to touch him, and eventually they just stopped talking.
    “I’ve never had sex with anyone,” I said.
    “That’s okay.” He drew circles on my shoulder with his pinky nail.
Six-fifty-four a.m., Fred’s cell again.
    I leaned over the edge of the bed, sweeping the floor for his phone. Jesus, Adina, get a boyfriend