Tru Love by Rian Kelley Page B

devastated. Totally unable to go on without them. What is life worth, after all, when the best part of it has hit the road?” Mrs. Lombardi smiles and it makes her blue eyes shine. “It’s not their fault, you know,” she continues. “We spend a few good weeks, months, years building them up so what are they supposed to believe? They walk away thinking they can deflect bullets. Melt stone with their laser gaze.” Mrs. Lombardi laughs and shakes her head. “Until men have proven themselves in the most difficult circumstances, they’re still boys.”
    “So what do I do?
    “Nothing. The smart ones come around.” She pushes a lock of chestnut hair behind her ear and regards Genny seriously. “You may not see it happen. Some people need to circle the mountain a few times before they’re flattened by falling rock.”
    “So I just let it go,” Genny says, feeling the last light of hope extinguish.
    “No. You have to do better than that. You’re seventeen. You’re gorgeous. Life is a conscious decision,” she advises. “You wouldn’t volunteer for a colonic cocktail, would you? Have fun,” she insists. “And if that happens to become public, all the better. He won’t understand it. It will encourage self-reflection.”
    So, if Hunter sees her having fun he’ll remember the good times?
    “He’ll miss me,” Genny says.
    “Maybe. If not, at least he’ll think he was missed about as much as a hang nail.”
    Genny leaves her calculus class with her eyes wide open. Her mother never told her about men. What they think and how they feel and how absolutely delusional they can be.
                  She enters the cafeteria, her eyes automatically scanning the crowds for Serena. She really should let her best friend in on this revelation. She wonders if Victor feels like Super Man. Probably. She can hear Serena insisting that it’s her job to make sure of it. And in return? Will Victor stay? Or will he wander, looking for another leading lady?
                  She spots Truman sitting at a table near the windows. He’s not alone. Of course. Every seat is taken: two senior girls; the running back of their football team; tall, skinny Ruben Marisol, captain and center of their basketball team; Ruben’s girlfriend and Genny’s teammate, Francesca; two junior girls who look so much alike, Genny wonders briefly if they’re twins.
                  Life is a conscious decision.
                  Genny likes her teacher’s words so much, she lets them propel her across the room. She’s two yards from Truman’s back when he feels her presence; she’s at his elbow by the time he turns toward her. His brown eyes register surprise before they get that warm glow.
                  “Can I speak to you for a minute?”
                  Her tone makes it clear that she expects instant gratification. Not that Truman would refuse her. It’s not in him. It’s not polite.
                  “Sure.”
    Truman stands. Genny notices that his food tray still holds a half-eaten burger and a couple of fries. He grabs his Coke and then uses his free hand to guide her through the small knots of animated teens.
    His hand rests lightly on her back, just above her hip and over the cashmere sweater she’s wearing. His touch is so hot, she’s sure it burned away the soft yarn and is leaving the shape of his palm, and even the small details of his fingerprints, on her skin.
    Great, now I’m having fantasies of being branded. That has to fall under some disorder in the Physician’s Handbook.
    By the time they clear the doors and are standing outside, under a clear sky and amidst the cacophony of city noise—car horns bleating and voices raised above the whipped wind of traffic—Genny has her mind clear again. She called him out with a purpose. No more lining up like all the other sheep, which is how Genny is beginning to see romantic relationships: passage to