The Promise of Amazing (25 page)

“Nah, I think it takes substantial talent to make an old lady toss her tea across the table. Frankly I was impressed.”

“Funny,” I said, genuinely cracking a smile. “And you looked like you were about to get lucky with that redhead.”

His eyes lit up as he smiled, completely transforming his face. He was unnervingly scorching when he wasn’t pouty and brooding. “You should have heard what she said to me.”

“Giving her that bell was sweet. You made her day,” I said, scraping some stubborn icing off the other side of the cake server and shaking off the flustered feeling that sprung up when he looked at me that way.

“It has to suck, you know? I mean, if I’m ever stuck in a place where the highlight of my day is a sing-along and some red-velvet cake, well, fuck, just put a pillow over my head and put me out of my misery.”

I laughed, a loud pop of a laugh that surprised me. “You’re awful.”

“Although this cake,” he said, pinching off a piece from the leftover cake and popping it into his mouth, “is pretty damn good.”

“Looks yummy,” I said.

“Here,” he said, grabbing another bit and holding it against my mouth. “Try it.”

The icing touched my upper lip. My hands were still under running water, and I had no choice but to open my mouth or the piece would have tumbled down the front of my sweater. Luke’s thumb grazed my bottom lip. The air in the room became dense, hot, as his eyes held mine.

“Good, huh?”

I broke his gaze, mumbled
mm-hmm
as the cake melted in my mouth. My fingers were pruney from the water. I turned off the faucet and shook my hands dry. Luke handed me a paper towel.

“That’s an unusual necklace,” he said.

“Um, thanks,” I replied, focusing on drying the cake server and putting it away.

“Do you mind?” he asked, reaching toward my neck. Before I could say anything, Luke had the charms in his hand, gently tugging me toward him. I had no choice but to follow, afraid the necklace would break otherwise. His face was calm with concentration as he studied it.

“Love,” he said, directly to me. “Grayson gave this to you?”

“Perceptive,” I replied, to which he arched an eyebrow. “Now could you let go?”

He held on to it a second longer, then let the charms fall to my collarbone. I went back to cleaning up, hoping he’d take the snub as a sign to leave.

“I was with him when he got that.”

“Right,” I said. The likelihood of Grayson and Luke going jewelry shopping together was absurd.

“Seeing Grayson later?”

“Yes. He’s picking me up from school.”

“Could you tell him I need to speak to Mike Pearson?”

“If you’re his best friend, why don’t you just call him?” I
asked, walking past him and throwing the cake plate into the garbage can. When I turned around, I was nose to nose with the Polo insignia on Luke’s red sweater.

“Because it would mean more coming from you.”

My curiosity was piqued, and against my better judgment, which would have been to just freakin’ walk away, I asked, “Does this have anything to do with the favor he did for you?”

Luke’s face contorted in confusion; he tilted his head to the side. “Favor. For me?”

Even though I’d tried to give Grayson the benefit of the doubt, I still had the feeling he was holding something back. As much as I hated bringing it up with Luke, I forged ahead, hoping to get some more information.

“You know, the girl at the mall?”

He looked past me, blinking a few times before his full lips curled in understanding.

“Allegra? The hot chick about yay high,” he said, putting his hand up to his chest to show her height, then cupping both his hands to mime boobs. “Rack like that? So you know about her?”

My legs felt like liquid as all my worst fears danced in my head. I stared down at my feet and bit the inside of my cheek.

“Come on, you believe Grayson was doing me a favor? You’re smarter than that.”

“Leave me alone.” I shoved past him.

“Wren, chill. I’m not surprised Grayson wouldn’t talk to you about hooking up with that girl. Hell, I’m jealous for you.”

“Don’t be,” I snapped, frantically looking for something to do, but the kitchen was clean. The last thing I wanted to do was go back and pretend to be in a holiday mood, but that was better than staying with Luke. He stepped closer, putting his hands on either side of the counter, cornering me before I had the chance to move away.

“Hey,” he said, softer, his head hung low, his mouth by my ear. “I wasn’t trying to upset you.”

“Sure you were,” I said, shifting to glare at him.

“This is between me and Grayson. You just happen to be in the way.”

“Let me fix that.”

“Wren, wait,” he whispered, blocking my exit.

His face was so close, I could make out the different shades of brown and green in his eyes. He broke our gaze, glancing down at my mouth. The tip of his nose brushed against my cheek as his lips touched mine. The kiss was soft, and it caught me off guard. Instinctively I closed my eyes as my mouth melted against the warmth of his, but then I pushed him away, trembling with anger. Our lips parted with a soft smacking noise. The swinging doors opened with a groan, causing us both to jump.

Ava. Her mouth formed a small, surprised O. Had she seen?

“The guy from the paper is here,” she said, her voice small, echoing through the quiet kitchen. “He wants to take a group picture.” The last sentence trailed off as she calculated the scene.

“We were just talking about Grayson,” Luke said, sauntering over to her. He threw an arm around her shoulder. “How we should all hang out.”

Ava closed her eyes and shivered. “Whatever. Let’s just take this effing picture and get out of here. I’ve filled my community-service quota for the decade.”

The two of them disappeared through the swinging doors, and I crumpled. There was no way I was going to take a group picture—the thought of this event being commemorated in any way made my skin crawl—but then Mrs. Fiore poked her head into the kitchen.

“Come on, Miss Co-chair. You’re needed!” she said. She was wearing the hat with the dancing Christmas tree and looked just this side of crazy. Before I could protest, she hurried me out to the group huddled in front of the tree and placed me right next to Luke.

When the photos were done, and the spots in my eyes from the flash evaporated, I was the first to pull away from the group.

“Wren,” Luke said, putting his hand on my shoulder.

I swatted it off. “I’ll talk to Grayson; just get away from me.”

“You closed your eyes,” he said as I walked away.

I stopped, a stream of students and residents continued flowing around me.

“What?”

“When we kissed,” he said, coming closer to me. “You closed your eyes.”

My jaw dropped. I jerked my head from side to side to see if anyone had heard what he’d just said. Someone plunked a few keys on the piano, and Mrs. Fiore told the students to form a line to get their coats.

“We,” I said as low as I could, “didn’t kiss. You kissed me. And I pushed you away, and—”

“And you closed your eyes, and for a second you just went with it,” he finished. “All I’m saying is I thought we kind of rocked it, and I think you’d be lying if you said different.”

How could I answer that? Closing my eyes had been a reflex, pure and simple. I
had
been curious, but it was the same sort of curiosity that drew me to the edge of the second floor of the mall, wondering what it would be like to toss myself off. I’d never do that, never go over the railing because I knew it would hurt and I’d break something or die right in front of Old Navy. Still, I’d kissed Luke. So there I was.
Splat
.

“You’re deluded,” I answered, walking away to get my coat. He easily kept up with me, and we stood at the back of the line, inching up as each person retrieved his or her belongings.

“When you have that conversation with Grayson, and you’re feeling really awful about that hot chick from the mall,” he said, “just, you know, keep me in mind, if you want a revenge hookup.”

“How can you talk like that? You’re
with
Ava. I thought you were Grayson’s best friend.”

For a moment I could see that I’d hit a nerve. On some level his friendship with Grayson mattered to him. Whatever he was playing at now had nothing to do with friendship. Ava came by and shoved his jacket into his chest. He raked his teeth across his lower lip. The glimpse was gone. He stood up straight and put one arm through the sleeve of his jacket.

“All’s fair, Wren,” he said, walking away, jogging to catch up with Ava, who glared over her shoulder at me. So much for rekindling our BFF status.

I grabbed my coat, avoiding further contact with anyone, and scored a window seat on the bus ride back to Sacred Heart. Mrs. Fiore returned my phone. I had five texts from Grayson. Normally I would have torn right through them, but I rested my head against the window, trying to make sense of all that had happened.

Luke’s knowledge of the
mall chick
. . .
Allegra
. . . burrowed under my skin, giving new life to the fears that I’d squelched
about Grayson. There was something he wasn’t telling me. He’d hooked up with her? That thought alone made every nerve in my body sizzle with jealousy. I’d had a gut feeling he’d been doing more than a favor for Luke, but ignorance was bliss. I swiped a few tears away before the bus steered into the Sacred Heart lot, where I saw him perched on the Chrysler. Completely oblivious to the hell I was about to give him.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

TWENTY

GRAYSON

I STARED DOWN THE STREET, SHIVERING MY ASS
off as I sat on the rear bumper of the Chrysler. Waiting. We were due at my mother’s in about three hours. Why wasn’t Wren returning my texts?

The wheezing sound of bus brakes got my attention. The bus chugged down the street and into the Sacred Heart lot. My pulse sped up at the thought of seeing her. She’d told me just last week how she loved to walk out of school and see me there.

Me. Grayson Barrett. Boyfriend.

Go figure. Who was I to let her down?

She was the first to get off the bus. Hopping down, she walked with quick, short steps. The hood of her coat was up, the fuzzy fur trim blowing back with her movement. She pulled the hood down, shook out her hair. The corners of my
mouth turned up at the sight of her, but as she got closer, I knew something was wrong. Her mouth was a tight, glossy line, and that spot between her eyebrows was creased.

“Hey, you,” I said, opening my arms to give her a squeeze, hoping that would help. She stopped about three feet away from me, arms crossed and eyeing me like coming closer would be painful. Her mouth opened and a puff of white escaped, drifted away.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Why don’t you ask your friend?” she said, her voice catching.

“Friend? Wha—” I stopped, my eyes fixing on Luke. He had his arm around Ava and was talking to a guy I recognized from St. Gabe’s. What was he doing here?
You know I wouldn’t mind having that conversation with her
.

“What did he say?” I asked, trying to control the rage snaking up in my chest.

Wren shook her head, lips trembling. Silent. This was bad.

My feet took off before my brain was up to speed. Luke and Ava saw me from about a foot away. She let out a yelp as he pushed her out of the way. I freight-trained into him, and we both tumbled down to the pavement, rolling over until we stopped, splayed apart from each other not far from the curb.

“Barrett, what the hell?” he yelled, and scrambled to his feet.

I had one knee up and one still on the ground when the
bottom of his shoe made hard contact with my shoulder, shoving me back. My palms scraped the pavement, and I crab-walked backward, practically knocking over Ava, until I got my footing and stood up, ducking just in time to dodge Luke’s fist. I grabbed hold of his jacket, and we spun before I slammed him into the wrought-iron fence that surrounded the front lawn of Sacred Heart. Someone screamed.

“What did you do?” I asked, gathering up the slack of his jacket in my fists and slamming him against the fence again. It knocked the spit out of him, but he brought up both arms in between mine and broke my hold, shoving me away. I stumbled back, fists at the ready.

“I did you a fucking favor,” he said, squaring off his shoulders. We circled each other, catching our breath, until Luke lunged toward me. I sidestepped him, letting his momentum carry him past me, but he turned sharp, and his fist clipped my chin. The sting spurned me on, and I landed a punch square on his cheek, my knuckles throbbing. He rubbed the spot where my fist had made contact and laughed.

Grunting, I charged him. He braced himself, chest slamming into mine. We butted against each other, the force making us momentarily still.

“Grayson! Luke! Stop.” Faceless voices shouted our names as we spun slowly, pushing into each other, neither one of us backing down.

“What . . . did . . . you. . . tell . . . her?” I asked, stammering between shoves.

“The . . . truth,” he said, his voice rough with struggle.

Fuck
.

I backed away, and Luke fell forward into Ava. She pulled on his jacket, but he batted her off, coming at me again. Adrenaline numbed me from the fight, but twinges of pain prickled through my palms, chin, and shoulder. I steeled myself for his assault. He came at me again, and our arms were around each other, each grappling for the upper hand.

“Why are you doing this?”

“That’s my property around her neck, Barrett.”

“Drop it. It’s over.”

“Who said you get to say when it’s over?”

“Enough!” a high-pitched voice squealed. We were moving apart from each other but still jabbing. A two-ton guy in a Santa hat was behind Luke, holding him by the elbows. Luke squirmed but finally relented. An older woman with frosted hair and stale coffee breath was in my face, hand up, urging me to back off. I tried to get around her, but she got in my face again with another shrill command of,
“Enough!”