Read Online Random by Tom Leveen - Free Book Online Page B

to let my voice go all gooey-girlie. “He’s really good. And his arms are just . . . yeah.”
    â€œHuh,” Andy says. “So he’s a good-looking young chappie.”
    â€œYeah,” I say. “He is. It’s true.”
    â€œBut what else?”
    â€œWhat else, what?”
    â€œWhat else do you like about him? Please don’t tell me it’s all about his looks or the fact that he’s some sporto hero.”
    â€œI just . . . like him,” I say. And it sounds stupid. I can hear it in my own voice.
    â€œI’m disappointed,” Andy says. “I’d expect you to go after someone who believed in truth, justice, the American way, all that stuff. But he’s just a pretty face, huh?”
    I squeeze my eyelids shut for a long moment to try to get some moisture back into them.
    â€œMaybe,” I say. But what I think is, I don’t know. Is he? I mean, when I’ve gone out with that group, like up to the lake, I felt like more of an initiate than a member. The JV team, sort of. Like they were trying me out. I’m not blind; I’ve seen how Lucas is around the other girls, even my teammates. But they didn’t get invited to the lake, or to Lucas and Marly’s table for lunch. That’s not my fault. And I’m pretty sure that if I was to throw myself at him—you know, open wide —he wouldn’t hesitate to take it.
    I don’t want that. I want everything: talking and laughing and hanging out, plus kissing and all the rest of it.
    â€œWell, you should tell him,” Andy says. “If he’s just eye candy, you got nothing to lose.”
    â€œYeah, I guess. I don’t know.” I hate that I’m even thinking about this. My whole life is going to change tomorrow. Lucas Mulcahy should be the last thing I’m worried about. But then, shouldn’t that be true for Andy, too?
    â€œTori, let me tell you something, as I sit up here looking at the stars above this back-asswards little town and into the gloom of certain death just down the highway from me,” Andy says, and for some reason, I visualize his eyes closing, not open.
    â€œOkay?” I say.
    â€œLife is short,” Andy says. “Am I right?”
    I answer cautiously, “Yes . . .”
    â€œYou should make a move. As soon as possible. You never know what tomorrow’s going to bring.”
    â€œYeah. Guess so.”
    â€œYou sound tired, Tori.”
    â€œListen,” I say, “please don’t get upset or anything, okay? But why are you doing this? I don’t want anything to happen to you, okay? I really don’t. But if you sincerely did just call me at random, how come? Because I’m really confused about what the hell it is we’re talking about here. Why are you asking me about Lucas?”
    Andy is quiet for a second. When he speaks, his voice is all business again. Firm. The fun-loving tone he had while asking about Lucas has evaporated into nothing.
    â€œAll right,” he says. “This fine evening, after pulling off to the side of the road, I was just about to shove the gas pedal down as hard as I could, and instead, I got this idea that if—and this is a big if , all right?—if there is a God, or even a Flying Spaghetti Monster, and he didn’t want me to die, then I’d just dial a number, and if someone answered, someone who then bothered to give a single, solitary droplet of shit about me, then maybe I wouldn’t do it. That’s pretty much it, sweetheart. So you’re the lucky girl, and so fucking help me, I’m happy to get off this phone any time you want and finish the job.”
    His tone is so bitter and harsh that it chokes me like a mouthful of baseline chalk.
    â€œOkay,” I cough. “Can I ask you something else?”
    â€œSure.” It comes out like a bark, teeth bared.
    â€œWhy this way? I mean, why not take pills or