He was right, we did have detention together tomorrow. Which was both an excuse to not go home, and it meant more time with Garrett. I wiped my tears, I felt horrible for getting the shoulder of his shirt soaked. My eyeliner, I just knew, was probably horrendous.
“You know,” I began, “I shouldn’t have slapped her, though.” He lifted my chin with his fingers, they were warm. The said, “Kirsty got what she deserved, ” he added, “Just for the record, I wasn’t kissing her back.” I nodded, he didn’t have to tell me that. I already knew it. That was the best thing about him, he was so trustworthy. Well, actually it was only one of my favorite things.
The bright digits on the clock in his car read 3:45. I just stared at his face, his wild hair, his complexion. “You know,” I whispered in his ear, “someday, I’m going to sketch your face. Then I’ll give it to Kirsty, you know, so she can admire you.” He smiled jokingly, shaking his head. Then he traced his index finger over my cheek, where it no longer throbbed.