“How do you know he hasn’t been around?”
“I have my sources.”
“You’re stalking me?”
“You wish.”
He’s so annoying. He knows he’s hot now. He knows I think he’s hot now, and he won’t let me forget it. I’ve got to get Mom to quit telling him the pathetic details of my lonesome existence every time she goes grocery shopping.
It’s going to change, Mr.-Scott-nosey-pants-won’t-leave-a-girl-alone. Derek’s coming home. Friday. This week will go fast. School will keep me busy and my mind from wandering to Scott’s muscular, available shoulders and the tender way he stares at me.
Bliss practice starts again Thursday. Today’s Tuesday. It’s almost Friday already.
“Hey.” Scott stops at the locker next to mine and opens it.
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“The polite reply would be ‘Hello,’ ‘Good morning,’ or even a simple ‘Hey back.’”
“How’d you manage that?” I close my locker and lean against it. Great. Now he’s got stubbly blond beard all over his face, and it’s way sexy.
He pushes his overgrown sun-bleached blond bangs off his forehead. “The Prince Charming lessons are paying off.” He opens his new locker. “The office ladies were putty in my hands. I told them all about you and me—how we hung out in grade school, how we always had each other’s back, how our friendship was flowering into something more.” He grins at me with all his straight, white teeth.
“You little liar.”
“One lady was almost in tears.” He chucks his backpack into the locker.
“He’s coming back this week.”
Scott shrugs. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“When this jerk breaks your heart, I’ll be here. Right next door. All year long.”
I stand up straight. “He’s not like that. He’s so different.”
“I’m different, Beth. I wasn’t lying in the office. You want me as much as I want you. I can tell.” He moves close—into my space. “You’re the liar.” He touches my hair.
“Okay.” I draw back. “I admit it. You’re really appealing—I’d be a stone not to notice.”
“It’s more than that.” He moves in on me again, puts a hand on my waist.
I close my eyes and whisper, “I know.”
“You admit that, too?”
“Of course, but—” I open my eyes.
He puts his warm fingers on my lips. “Leave the buts out—for once just shut up.” He’s so much taller now—can reach my lips with his if he wants to without me stooping. He smells good. Like he did prom night. I want him to kiss me. I’m dying to kiss him back. Right here in the hall with the 8:35 warning bell about to ring.
Derek. Friday. Derek. Friday.
But Scott—
My cell phone rings.
I pull back, away from Scott’s lips.
“Don’t answer it, Bethie.” The way he looks at me—stripped, vulnerable, alone—tells me exactly how much my relationship with Derek hurts him. “Bethie, please.”
I flip open my phone. “It’s just my mom,” I lie.
Scott touches my face. “See you in choir.” He leaves me to my phone call.
I put the cell to my ear. “Are you sure you can’t come home today? I need you.”
“I’m on my way.”
“Don’t tease me.”
“Serious. Mum has an Amabile board meeting she forgot about. I’ll call you when I get there.”
Now I’m mega-jumpy. I keep feeling my cell vibrate, but when I slip it out, it’s not going off. I check the battery life a hundred times. I barely notice Scott in choir.
He can tell I’m jazzed. “What’s up?”
I shrug my shoulders. “Nothing.” It’s easier to lie to him. It’s really none of his business.
I’m packing my backpack at my locker, head down, avoiding Scott, when my cell goes off for real.
“I’m here.”
“Cool. I’ll take off as soon as I can. Email me directions, okay?” I’m down the hall, pushing out the front door. Shoot, it’s pouring out.
“I don’t think you’ll need them. I’m pretty easy to find.”
“Just do it. Don’t mess with me.”
“Whatever you say. Hey—how do you get your hair to do that?”
“My hair?”
“It’s hot—wavy like that.”
I look up and squeal like a cheerleader hugging the QB after a touchdown.
Derek sits in front of the school steps on a sleek black motorcycle with two helmets dangling from the handlebars. Dang. He looks good in leather.
I fly at him—almost knock him off the bike. I don’t care if it’s raining and I’m getting soaked. My lips are all over him. He doesn’t even have a chance to say hello. I hear a cell phone clatter, don’t know or care if it’s mine or his. Nothing matters—as long as he’s here. Solid. Real. Kissing me.
Then there’s a tap on my shoulder. “Excuse me.” Scott? How can he do this? “You’re making a scene. PDA on school property.” He’s standing under one of the school’s giant blue and yellow umbrellas.
I bury my face in Derek’s black leather jacket.
Derek chuckles. “Hello.” He holds out his hand. “I’m Derek.”
“Scott.” They actually shake hands. “Do you have a minute?”
Derek looks down at me. I shake my head. “It’s raining.” Scott hands me his umbrella.
“Come on, Beth. Scott’s a friend.” Derek gets off the bike and walks a few feet away with Scott. They turn their backs to me.
When they come back, they are both drenched. Derek’s smiling.
Scott’s not. “Bye, Beth. See you tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry about that. What did he want?”
“He told me if anything happens to you, he’d kill me.”
“Scott couldn’t kill anything.”
“Just me. He doesn’t like my bike. Called it a death trap. If he only knew—”
I glance down, examine his bike. It bristles with chrome and a major engine. “If anything happens to you on this thing, I’ll beat Scott to it. Where did this come from?”
“I needed a way to get over here—often.”
“I have a car.” I point out Jeannette, glistening in the rain at the back of the parking lot.
He pulls a face. “You don’t expect me to ride around in that? Come on—hop on.” He hands me a helmet. “I’ll take you home.”
“It’s raining.”
“We’re already wet.”
“What about my car?”
“It’ll still be here tomorrow when I drop you off.”
“You’re staying”—I swallow hard—“the night?”
“If your mum will let me sleep on the sofa.”
I punch his shoulder. “Don’t do that to me. Feel my heart.” I put his hand on my sternum, so he can feel how he makes it race.
He slides his hand up my neck, caresses my cheek with his thumb. “Don’t do that to me.”
I unzip his jacket and press my ear to his chest. His heart matches mine—beat for beat.
He takes the helmet from me, slides it slowly onto my head, does up the chinstrap, kisses my nose, then kicks his bike to life.
I climb on the back, slide close so my legs are hugging him, wrap my arms tight around his waist, bury my face in the wet sweatshirt hood sticking out the top of his jacket. “So far, so good,” I holler over the engine.
He laughs. “Hang on.”
We tear out of the parking lot.
“Slow down. There’s kids.”
He obeys—senses something by the way my voice catches, even manages to touch my hand without losing control of the bike.
I lay my cheek against his shoulder blade and think about him and me and kids all the way home. “Left here. Now right. Okay. You can let it out. This is an open stretch.”
He gives it gas, and we’re flying. I see the appeal. Huge rush. Loads of adrenaline. He thinks he’s going to ride this thing all winter? Maybe I need to get a better car. Poor Jeanette. I wonder what I can trade her for.
When we get to my house, I don’t want to get off the bike, can’t let him go. He twists around and kisses me—our helmets clashing together.