BooksBarbecue
Back Someone Had to Do It
Chapters (39)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise
  3. Dedication
  4. About the Authors
  5. PROLOGUE
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  37. THE STORY BEHIND SOMEONE HAD TO DO IT
  38. SOMEONE HAD TO DO IT: THE PLAYLIST
  39. DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

There’s no point in dwelling on it now. It’s done. Just like this date, if you can call it that since it’s been more of a standoff than anything else, and considering the way Nate ignores me for the whole ride home, I’m surprised that when we get back to the apartment he wants to fuck, and when he lies on his stomach and puts his face between my legs, I’m quiet because I’m confused. I thought he’d still be pissed at me. Maybe he still is; I don’t know. He’s different, not as talkative or playful as he normally is. It’s not enough to turn me off, but there’s this silent tension that’s impossible not to feel despite the heroic strokes of his tongue. When it’s over, he gets up and showers for an unusually long time, leaving me alone with my thoughts, and I feel slightly used. But then I realize I kind of like it, and then I feel fucked up for liking it, like what the fuck is wrong with me? And then I’m lying on my back thinking that maybe this was his way of saying we’re okay; even though he’s upset, we’re still okay; we’ll always be okay, and before I fall asleep, the dark quiet between us, I’m hoping he wakes me up in the morning before he heads to the gym because the fact that he did that makes me feel so good I want him again already.

13

BRANDI

The next day two weird things happen.

I’m turning out of the apartment, head down as I pull out my MetroCard, when I look up and see a girl staring at me out the window of a parked car. I don’t know her, but I recognize her instantly. She was at the ball. The Asian girl in the dress the color of blood. That’s how I remember her.

She looks different now. Her face is scrubbed clean and her long black hair is neatly pinned at the back of her head. She’s pretty. Rich brown eyes that glint in the sunlight and a tiny gap between her front two teeth, but there’s something harsh about her face. Maybe her eyes or the way her mouth curves down on the sides as if she’s permanently frowning.

She calls me by my name and waves me over, tossing a cigarette onto the concrete once I meet her gaze.

My feet don’t move right away.

She’s sitting in the backseat of a blacked-out Denali, her driver up front, waiting with the radio on low. I glance at him, then back at her. I have no idea what this girl could possibly want.