Authors: Anne Eliot
Kika's frowning and has met my gaze. She's about to ask another question. I can't handle one more question. I start blabbing, “Um. So, yeah…anyhow…um”
“Will all skaters in Holly Basker's birthday party report to Birthday Room number 26 located in the bowling alley complex. Happy Birthday Hoooooo-lleey Basker!”
Saved.
“Oh. That's me,” Kika says, looking around.
“Get off me, Porter! Your arm's heavier than a dead ox. What's wrong with you?” Michelle wiggles out of Gray's grip.
Kika's eyebrows shoot up. Thankfully, at that same moment, we're surrounded by the swarm of Kika's giggling, eighth-grade friends as they exit the rink.
“Kiiiiika. There you are! OMG. Did you see me fall flat on my face?” A girl with long braids laughs.
“OMG. Did you see
me
fall flat on that
old
guy? I felt so bad about it,” says another.
The girls erupt into a fit of giggles. “I saw you both,” gasps Holly, the birthday girl. “Hi, Jess.”
“Happy birthday, Holly,” I answer with a small, stiff smile, wondering if I'm going to faint.
“Wow,” Holly whispers to Kika too loudly, as though she wants to be heard. “That guy's hot! Introduce us.”
I know she's talking about Gray.
“Guys, this is my sister's boyfriend and her other…friends,” Kika says.
Was that a note of sarcasm in her voice?
“They're both simply…wow.” Holly giggles, eyeing Gray as though he's in an aquarium or something. “Are they—aren't you all going to be
seniors
?” Her voice is filled with awe.
“You know it,” says Corey, puffing out his chest.
“God! Corey, you're such a Neanderthal,” Michelle punches his arm.
“Hey. It's not my fault I'm so endlessly admired by future freshmen.” Corey winks at the girls and they all giggle again.
I feel my stomach tighten with more misplaced anxiety.
Three years ago I'd acted exactly like these girls. I had been fascinated with seniors. I thought the boys my own age were just skinny dorks. So much so, that I'd lied to my parents, snuck out to go to a
senior party,
and drank the drinks the
seniors
were drinking. I'd even followed a
real live senior
to an empty upstairs room, and got to lose my mind and my memory ever since.
Of course,
nothing
happened. Let the record show. I shudder as bile moves into my throat. I can't believe my little sister and her friends are really old enough to be high school freshmen in a couple of months. I shoot Kika a look. Did I look as young as she does now? Did I act as old and wise as Holly Basker seems to think she is?
I work to keep my expression in check as I try to curb the larger panic attack hanging over me. The memories wash in.
I concentrate on breathing slowly.
Kika is not me and she won't get herself into any bad situations. I'll protect her.
She's going to be fine. Fine. Fine. Fine.
I shudder again and dart a glance at Gray through my lashes. I read concern in his eyes. He can tell something's not right.
I toss him an annoyed glare—which makes him smile a strange, sad little smile.
“You better go, guys. Party room twenty-six,” I say, reminding them.
The girl with the braids looks back as they move past us. “If that's what the boys look like in high school, then I can't wait for the summer to end.
Seniors,
huh?
So cool.
”
Holly Basker giggles and looks back too. “Which one's your sister's
boyfriend
? The blond or the dark-haired one?”
Kika turns and meets my gaze. “Does it really matter when they're both so amazingly hot?” Kika answers. She brushes past, shaking her head.
I hold my ground next to Corey, feeling suddenly like I'm the younger sister and Kika's some sort of grown-up, successful attorney. Judge. Executioner.
I wish for the floor to open wide and swallow me whole.
If I can't come up with a plausible explanation for why I was cuddled up on the couples skate with Gray, Kika's going to take everything I've built and destroy it with five simple words:
Mom, guess what I saw?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Gray
“I'm dead. We are so dead. I can't believe I let my guard down like that.”
Jess is groaning like she's in pain and rubbing her eyes while I back Bessie out of the rink's employee parking lot.
“I don't think it was as bad as you're making it. Your sister couldn't possibly have figured anything out. I think it went rather well if you don't dwell on the part where Michelle almost blew the whole thing by decking me.” He laughs.
“This is
so
not funny. What about the part where
my not-boyfriend, Corey
was holding hands with your
not-girlfriend, Michelle?
That was hard to miss. Worse, I wonder how long Kika was watching me skate like that—all wrapped up snuggled and happy in your arms.”
“Were you? Happy?” My throat tightens as I regret asking that.
I try to meet her gaze, but can only catch her darkened reflection in the ink-black passenger window. It's not light enough to read what she's thinking.
“Why?” she asks. Her tone has taken on a skeptical drawl. “I'll pay you even if I'm not happy, you know. My happiness was never put into the contract, okay? Where are you taking me? We still have two hours before my curfew's up. It's bad form to be home before my little sister.”
“I need Band-Aids.” I hold up my fingers.
She gasps. “Do you have blisters like that on both hands?”
“Yep. Those lanyard hooks from the last batch of ladybugs wouldn't hook on without a bit of brute force mixed with skin.”
“Why didn't you tell me? I just thought you had really rough man-hands. It was so dark in the rink I never thought—I've been holding your hands all night. I probably made them worse.“
“I do have rough, manly, and mannish, man hands. So glad you noticed,” I try to joke, but my voice sounds forced.
She laughs, apparently not noticing that I'm acting like a freak.
“I'm taking you home.” I wiggle my fingers. “Gran will still be awake. I'd love for you to meet her.”
“No. Not your house! No way!” She grips the sides of her seat.
“Why?”
“I don't think I have it in me to…you know…
pretend
for another second. It takes a lot of energy for me to fake it. Seeing Kika at the rink took it all out of me. I can't possibly betray a sweet old lady after that.”
“We're already here. Don't worry. You won't have to pretend anything around my Gran.”
“Does she know? Did you tell her about the contract? About me?”
“I've told her I've got a crush on a girl that's playing hard to get. I'll show you my house, fix up my fingers, and then it will be time to drive you home. No biggie.” I pull Bessie into our long driveway and park in front of the detached one-car garage. My house can't compete with hers, but I know that Jess doesn't register any sort of materialistic stuff as important. Another reason I like her too much.
“I don't want to go in,” she whispers and meets my gaze. The front light is streaming into the cab of my car. I recognize Jess's expression. She had the same tense, yet vulnerable look on her face the first time she'd come to meet me at the sports complex.
Beautiful. Terrified. And exhausted.
If only I could erase the last two things. I seek solace in the fact that she's letting me see what she used to work very hard to hide.
“We'll keep this low key. Gran's great. You'll love her.”
“And if she doesn't like me?”
“Impossible.” I wink, trying to get a smile, but instead she leans her head against the seat and closes her eyes as though she wants to block me out. It's too tempting not to stare when I'm this close. And when she's not looking. “You're the kind of girl she's always hoping I'll bring home,” I add. My heart catches when she smiles, eyes still closed.
“I bet you've used that line on every single girl you've had sitting in this very spot.” She opens her eyes and meets my gaze. The warm evening breeze blowing in through the windows gently ruffles the curls that frame her face.
Crap
, do I love those wispy curls…those blue eyes. Her.
I wish I could tell her. Instead, I smile back. My gaze wanders along the curve of her cheek and I follow it down to her neck. If only I had the right to kiss her.
Or at least, the courage.
Maybe I do.
I lean slightly forward. Her eyes are heavy, staring at my lips. She moves an inch closer to me and I hold my breath. That's when I spot the flash behind her shoulder.
“Crap!” I sit back, completely freaked out. “And crap!”
“What?” She's looking around. Her cheeks have flooded into glowing fire. Mine are in a similar state, I'm sure.
Right now, every inch of my entire body burns with longing.
She's facing forward in her seat with her back pressed straight against it, and she won't look at me.
Did I almost kiss Jess Jordan?
Did she almost let me?!
“And crap,” I mutter again. I talk as quickly as I can, pretending the moment never happened. “Gran has been staring at us from the window this whole time. Sit tight.” I open my door and leap out. “She'll never forgive me if I don't do this right.” If I weren't so stressed, I'd laugh at the irony of that statement. I've never been able to do one thing right where Jess Jordan is concerned. My botched attempt at kissing her is a perfect example.
“Do what?” she asks. “What?”
I talk to her through her open window because she's still so gripped, I'm afraid she's going to deck me or scream. I wouldn't blame her for either. “I must, in the presence of a lady, act like a gentleman if my grandmother is watching.” I'm afraid to look into Jess's eyes just yet so I swing her door open with a flourish, holding out my hand for her to take. “Humor me, and try to look pleased. If I mess up, Gran will grill me for weeks. But don't get used to this,” I joke.
She takes my hand and shoots me the back-off glare. “If you try this again,
ever
in front of anyone under the age of 70, you'll need to get used to
me
, hurting
you
. This is completely embarrassing, you know?”
“And super awkward. You forgot that.” I grin, relaxing slightly when she laughs. I close the door behind her.
“What about the part where I don't want to go inside?”
“Too late for that. Hurry. Gran's a stickler for propriety. Any seconds that tick past the 9PM mark will be held against me.”
Gran is opening the door and speaking through the screen as we make it up the front steps. “Young man, you'd better have an excuse for showing up here at this hour and with a guest. You should have called me on that cell phone of yours.”
“Sorry, Gran. It was an emergency. Plus you tell me not to call while I'm driving. I needed some first aid,” I say, holding up my fingers so Gran can see the blisters.
“Oh my. Well. Come on then you two. I've got a pot a tea already brewing.” She drags Jess into the kitchen and I follow. “I've waited a long time for Gray to bring home a girl. You're the first,” she says as she bustles around, pouring about twenty miniature cookies onto a plate and hovers the plate in front of Jess's face. “Please, have one and take a seat.” She points to one of the chairs.
Jess flushes, takes one of the cookies and sits with wide eyes.
She's still sporting some very red cheeks. It's not lost on me that she's very cute with powdered sugar coating her fingers. She's also sitting in
my spot
at our antique, slightly battered kitchen table.
I love her in my spot.
“My, but you're a beautiful young lady.” Gran smiles.
“Thanks,” Jess says and eats the cookie.
“Now, where does your family live? Near here?” Gran starts in, picking up her own cookie and moving a chair closer to Jess. My stomach clenches. Why in the hell have I brought Jess here? Gran is going to connect the dots and flip out!
Worse, she's going to blow my cover.
I cough and clear my throat. “Uh…Gran, I hate to ask for help and sound like a wimp in front of my girl but, do you think you could give me a little assistance?” Under the kitchen light, my two blisters look puny. It's pretty obvious I could handle them alone, but they're the only distraction I've got to get Gran out of gossip-granny-mode.
I blink helplessly and try my puppy-dog eyes. Gran loves it when I
need
her. “I can't open the cabinets and dig around very well—please?”