Swoon at Your Own Risk (21 page)

Late in the afternoon practically the whole staff rushes over to help manage a big water fight in the Splash Pasture—older kids are hurdling over the plastic farm animals—but I take the opportunity to run into the locker room and grab my keys. I'm out of here the minute the clock strikes five, pardner. For the rest of my shift I avoid Xander. Right as the closing whistles ring out, I slip out the gate and run to my car. Throwing my car into reverse, I peel out of the parking lot like I'm trying to win a NASCAR race.

Dear Miss Swoon:
How soon is it okay to start dating after a breakup? My ex already has a new girlfriend—and it's been less than a week!
—Too Soon, Right?

Dear Too Soon:
I'm betting that your ex is a good basketball player—because he sure knows how to rebound! You cannot control your ex, but you can control yourself. Take a time-out from love. Stick to the sidelines for a while.
—Miss Swoon

Used napkins dot the grass like white poppies, almost beautiful, if you ignore the truth.
—
X.C.

I don't go straight home. I can't help it. I drive by Jane's house first because I
do
need to talk. Grandma's out doing research, and I don't even want to know what that means. A matinee with the express delivery guy? I don't want Mom to try to joke me out of my hurt feelings, not that she's home, either. I figure Jane won't act angry if I show up in person. Her car isn't in the driveway, but I wait for a few minutes until I'm convinced that she's off doing something amazing with Rowdy. Plus, her neighbor keeps peeking through the curtains. Why is everyone looking at me as if I'm a demented criminal today?

I feel more tears pricking my eyes—damn sunscreen—as I drive home, way under the speed limit. I drive past my house because I'm distracted by the fact that, um, Xander is sitting on my front steps. Like a complete fool I back the car into the
driveway, trying to act like I'd driven past my house on purpose. I sit in my car for a minute, attempting to channel cheerfulness.

"Hey!" I say with way more enthusiasm than I feel. Xander hands me an ice cream cone. Double scoop. Two different kinds of chocolate.

"I didn't know which one you'd like better, so I got both. You made it just in time; it was threatening to melt all over my hands." He tilts his head so his curly hair brushes his shoulder. "I only had to lick it once. Okay, twice."

I bite my lip. Why am I such an emotional mess? I can't even manage a flirty thank-you.

"You'd better give it a quick lick yourself," he says.

I twist the cone with my wrist, coating my tongue with both kinds of chocolate. My body relaxes. I close my eyes, letting the flavor soothe me. I take a bite of the top scoop.

"You're welcome," he says.

"Oh, yeah, thanks. Sorry, I just—" I feel scolded like a little kid who has to be reminded to be polite.

"I didn't mean it like that. Your shoulders said thank you—and that was enough."

I shimmy my shoulders as if trying to get them to shut up. I'm suddenly way too conscious of my body language. I
don't know where to put my hands, feet. I keep crossing my ankles.

"Sit down." Xander says it like an invitation.

I sit one step down from him, but he moves next to me. "I figured you deserved some ice cream even though I saw you fighting with your car. I hadn't really made a ruling on inanimate objects so..."

"You saw that?"

"Happened to be in the parking lot getting Kyra's floaty." He opens his eyes wide, and again it feels like an invitation.

"Yeah, well, I forgot my keys, and..."

"And that made it hard to make a quick getaway?"

I crinkle my forehead. "I guess."

"Sonnet has a big mouth, and she updates her blog with record speed."

"You read—?" Somehow keeping up on the high school gossip doesn't mesh with the skateboarding, baby-sitting, and academic team. This guy is more complicated than the thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle Grace and Amy have started.

"I'm not just an academic team stud."

"Isn't that a contradiction in terms? An oxymoron?"

Xander laughs. "I love the way you use SAT words in conversation, appropriately."

"I usually try not to." My cheeks flush, so I lick my ice cream cone again.

He nudges me with his elbow. "You're saying that I'm lucky?"

I shrug my shoulders, taking a huge bite out of my cone, smearing ice cream onto my chin.

"I'd better help you with that." Xander leans over and takes a bite, and then he licks my chin!

I start laughing. "I can't believe you just did that! I can't believe I just
said
that."

Xander takes the cone out of my hand and tosses it into the bushes, and I crack up. "Enough of the ice cream, and the embarrassing chin licking."

"You used to lick your desk in fourth grade: Kool-Aid."

His cheeks go dusky. "I don't do that anymore."

"What do you do now?"

He leans over and kisses me, cold lips brushing mine. I kiss him back, harder. My head swirls with the smell of chocolate, the warm feeling of Xander's lips, his sticky fingers intertwining with mine. We stop when Mom's car pulls into the driveway. Xander rushes to help Mom with her
grocery bags
, and I start to wonder if I've entered some kind of time warp or alternate universe.

I'm still tingling from the kissing. As I heft a bag of groceries, Xander puts his hand on my back. I love the way it feels, but this is just a little rebound thing—just because of Sawyer, you know. I'm not really buying into the whole situation, but I'm too distracted to stop Mom from inviting him to stay for dinner. He accepts!

What am I going to do with him for the next two hours? Besides
that!

Dear Miss Swoon:
My boyfriend says that a guy can be injured down there from not going all the way after too much kissing. Should I let him have his way?
—Truth?

Dear Truth:
You're not going to hurt anyone but yourself by letting your boyfriend have his way with you. Resist!
—Miss Swoon

Not Shakespeare's Sonnet
Listmania!!!! Biggest Ex Offenses
1. Making out (PG-13 or more extreme) with new gf/bf in front of an ex.
Your turn now. I'm kind of stuck on seeing Sawdust drifting all over the female student body. Bodies. (For those HOOK-UPdates, see here, here, and here.) Winner gets a free Wild Waves pass. (Yeah, I know it's made of lame.)

I'm ready to drip under the table like the milk Grace spilled—on Xander's leg—when Grandma asks for "a man's perspective."

"You don't have to." I touch his wet leg and then immediately take my hand away, because it's too ... too intimate. He's just a friend, after all. He brought me ice cream like a good friend. That other stuff? A hormonal lapse.

Xander advises Grandma on Hank the Dishwasher Repair Hunk versus Roger the Bookstore Guy versus Friendly Supermarket Checker (has she even
gone
to a grocery store?). She keeps listing men!

When Grandma mentions a "hottie" who works down at the coffee shop on Main Street and adds that "age may be an issue," Xander says, "I think you've moved beyond my level of expertise with that one."

"What about that Guitar-Hero-playing prom queen? She's way older than you!" I clap my hand over my mouth. "I mean, it's your business. You look really cute together and everything."

Everyone is completely silent, except Xander, who starts laughing—a little too loud and a little too crazy. "We've always looked cute together, even back when our moms made us wear matching outfits."

"You've been together since—back then?"

"Oh, we go way back."

Mom and Grandma laugh; they get the joke. But my face must reflect the confusion storming through my brain because Xander puts his hand on my cheek, leans toward me, and whispers for everyone to hear, "She's my cousin."

Grandma swoons and Mom starts making swoon jokes, but my forehead crinkles. "What?"

He kisses me between my eyes—right in front of everyone!

Grandma says, "Aaah. To be young and in love."

"Grandma! We're just friends. I mean, yeah, like mere acquaintances or something."

Now everyone's laughing. At me! Like I've said something untrue. I'm feeling confused. Embarrassed. "Stop it!" I push away from the table, but Xander catches my hand.

"I heard a rumor—okay, I read a certain blogger's post about how you'd be at that party." He tilts his head. "So I called my cousin, since I don't really hang out with the jock crowd." He shrugs. "Being on the academic team and all."

"And I was..." I blush, thinking about Jack.

Xander leans close and whispers, "My cousin wanted to make you jealous. Did it work?"

"You went to the party just for Polly?" Grandma gazes at him with the kind of lust she usually only shows over-the-hill repair guys. "You're a real catch!"

"I'm not catching anything," I mutter.

"Oh, let's play catch!" Grace shouts, happy to finally understand something, I guess. "I'll get my squishy ball and we can go outside."

I grimace. The poor kid is completely starved for fatherly attention and she doesn't even know it. She bought that stupid squishy ball with her own money after watching some sappy old movie about dads and baseball with Grandma one night.

"I'm very good at catch." Xander answers Grace, but he looks at me. I know there's a sea of hidden meaning under his words, but I'm not about to go diving in to find out. Somehow I've let things get completely out of control: first the ice cream, then the, um, kissing, but a family dinner? What was I thinking? Of course they all adore him. This family is so manstarved that anyone who comes into the house sporting male anatomy ends up with a date!

"You go ahead," I say. "I'm going to help with the dishes. I'm not sure anyone around here remembers how to load a dishwasher."

"Just a dishwasher repairman," Mom jokes.

"Not funny." Grandma swats Mom on the butt—in front of Xander—and laughs. "If only he were a little more loaded. That's my new financial plan. I'm going to marry my retirement account."

The mirth drains from Mom's face. "Mother. Just write your book."

Grace bobs back into the room with her squishy ball. "Let's go."

Xander looks at me and tilts his head toward the door. "See you in a minute?"

I nod, afraid to say anything. What is happening here? I don't like the way my heart pounds too fast. The way his smile makes me feel. The way he flashes his eyebrows at me. Like we share a secret or something. I'm apparently the only one not in on the secret!

I stack the dinner plates on top of each other, focusing on the busywork of dishes.

"I may not be very good," Grace says. "I haven't had much
time to practice. My dad said he'd come over, but he works superhard all the time, and so I haven't learned how to catch very well."

The front door slams shut as Xander says, "I know all about busy dads."

And I realize that I know nothing about this guy. I've made assumptions, based way too much on elementary school. What was I like in third and fourth grade? I try to think back—but I mostly remember crying into my pillow at night after Dad moved out. And I might have been obsessed with my own stuffed animal collection...

I carry the dishes into the kitchen, watching Xander toss the ball to Grace outside on the front lawn. Grace keeps missing, but she's laughing. "It's really pathetic that Grace has to search for a father figure in the random boys that show up for dinner."

"He's not exactly a random boy, honey. He's been hanging around here all summer."

"Just because he lives up the street and can't help riding by on his skateboard, or whatever."

Mom takes a dish from me and puts it in the dishwasher. "I think it's because he likes you."

"Well, that's too bad. I've given up that kind of thing."

"What kind of thing?"

"Love, dating, the inevitable ensuing heartbreak."

Mom laughs. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you two seemed a little cozy on the porch when I pulled into the driveway. I thought I might have to use pliers to pry you apart."

"God, Mom. Do you have to turn everything into a joke?" I plunk a dish into the top rack of the dishwasher with a little too much force. "If anyone around here bothered to spend three minutes listening to me, you'd know that I've given up guys. Forever. I'm focusing on myself, my education—not that anyone is going to pay for it—and—" Mom puts her arm around me, but I shrug her off. "Don't."

"What's happened? To make you so guarded? So angry? Is this about your father?"

"No! It's about Kurt, and Jack and his bulldog, and Sawyer, and that thing with Gareth, and Hayden, who's, like, whatever. None of them wanted me once they got to know me. I'm completely unlovable."

"That's not true. I love you, Grandma loves you, Grace loves you—in her own way. Maybe if you could stuff yourself, grow some pink hair on your body..."

"That's so far from funny." I wrap a piece of foil, an artifact from Mom's actual cooking days, over the leftovers. "And you didn't even mention Dad, hmm?"

Mom frowns. "I knew this was about him. Look, our divorce is about him and me, not you, except he doesn't seem to realize it. This whole thing with the child support has me so angry."

I hold my hand up. "Please, don't. I don't want to know."

"Polly, problems get better if you face them head-on."

"Oh, really? First of all, you sound like Miss Swoon." I nod my head toward Grandma's room; she's preparing for a late-night movie date with some random Internet stranger. "And she's not exactly one to take her own advice. And second, what are you facing head-on, huh? The stacks of unpaid bills? The fact that you have to waitress to pay the mortgage? The way you're not taking care of your own health?"

"I'm doing the best I can," Mom whispers. "I'm doing the best I can."

"Well, maybe I am, too. I know what I'm doing. And not doing."

Mom shrugs at me.

Outside, Xander throws the ball to Grace. She catches it nearly every time now. A big smile stretches across her face each time the ball makes contact with her hand—like that's all it takes: a little attention. They've been out there for what? Twenty-five minutes. And Dad says he's too busy. Look what he's missing. That smile!