“It looks like a bunch of outlines. What is this pattern you’re using?”
Trying very hard to get her giggles under control, she pointed at the first heading. “It’s called the scientific method,” she said. “It’s the process by which science is carried out. Basically it boils down to question, hypothesis, prediction, test, and analysis.”
“What does that even mean?”
Aves got that look on her face that she’d had when she handed me a bowling ball and told me about Newton’s Laws. It was a little pitying, completely amused, and slightly excited. I could tell she liked teaching. She’d be a great teacher, actually.
“Here.” She sat down next to me and opened the book back to the kiss entry. “First you have to have a question. In this case, yours was, ‘Why can’t Avery move on from the guilt stage?’ Your hypothesis was that I was self-fulfilling the feelings of guilt and subconsciously repressing the anger. Next you predicted that if I could be forced to feel something out of sequence, it might break the cycle and put me back on a more natural path. You tested it by kissing me. The analysis is the result of the test. In this case the experiment failed because afterward, despite momentarily experiencing feelings of acceptance and happiness, the second I was faced with the original problem, I went right back to guilt.”
I had no idea what to think. I read her “analysis” again and frowned. “Geez, Aves, you sure know how to bleed all the romance out of a kiss. I must have really sucked performance-wise if this is how you remember it.”
“Grayson, this journal is a record of our scientific research. It doesn’t depict my personal feelings on the matter.” Avery’s face crept into fire-engine territory. “Of course you didn’t suck. I think that might be impossible. I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect first kiss.”
She really looks so adorable when her face is all pink like that. She was so close to me too and smelled completely mouthwatering as always.
“I don’t know. The fact that you could even look at that kiss analytically after it happened means it wasn’t good enough. I think you’d better give me another chance to do it better.”
I couldn’t get my eyes to look anywhere but her lips—those lips that I just had to taste again. Right now.
I started to lower my face to hers, and she quickly leaned forward out of my reach. “Actually,” she said, “I think I’d better take a look at your journal.”
“Oh, no you don’t!” I forgot all about kissing Avery and scrambled for my journal before she could get her analytical hands on it.
“But this is going to be turned in. It’s going to be judged, Grayson, and now you have me worried now that there’s not enough actual science being recorded in it.”
“Are you kidding? There is so much science going on up in here that I deserve a freaking PhD.”
“Then why can’t I see it?”
There was no way I was showing her this journal filled with crap about how I was getting a crush on her, and how I love to make her blush, and how dancing with her had blown my mind beyond all reason. Especially not after seeing her stupid scientific method. No freaking way. I was going to have to rewrite the whole thing from the beginning before I turned it in.
I tucked the book more securely into my arms. “Because I am the outside, unbiased observer, remember? Reading my thoughts before it’s over would completely taint the whole experiment.”
Avery glanced at the journal again but stopped insisting. “You’re right. I’m sorry. But will you let me read it after the science fair?”
You see? This is why journals are lame. How did I turn into such a girl?
“I guess that depends on the outcome of the experiment.”
Avery actually pouted at me. It was freaking adorable. Every bit as cute as when she blushed. Maybe a little sexy even. “Fine,” she said. “But you do realize that people are eventually going to read it, right? The judges and Mr. Walden? The book will be on display at our booth for anyone visiting the science fair.”
I crossed my arms defiantly. “Well, then once it’s on display, you can flip through it all you’d like. For now it’s off limits. But it does need some more entries, so we need to get working on this anger business. I have a few theories that need to be tested. See? I’m all over this science business.”
Avery
Grayson wasn’t joking when he said he had theories to test. He’d come prepared.
He said he still thought the best way for me to finally get mad was to lock Aiden and me in a room together and make us battle it out. When I said no to that one, he showed me his backup plan.
I’m not much of an angry person. I never have been. Easily stressed out to the point of hyperventilation, sure. But getting in fights? Never.
Grayson decided that if I could get really angry, for any reason at all, that might work as a catalyst for the all the pent-up rage—his words, not mine—I was harboring for his brother. He’d looked up ways to make a person irritable on the Internet and then declared he planned to annoy the crap out of me until I unleashed a shit-storm of fury on him. Again, that phrase was all Grayson.
According to Google, the easiest way to make someone irritable is to overstimulate them. Grayson started by making me down a four-pack of Red Bull. Then he locked us in my bedroom with a strobe light, turned up some kind of angry death-metal music and pelted me with raisins. That didn’t work, so he pulled a water gun out of his backpack.
When he refused to stop squirting me unless I made him, I finally lost my sanity and launched myself at him. I wrestled him for the gun, but that just turned into him tickle torturing me until I almost peed my pants.
Instead of angry, I ended up soaked with raisins stuck in my hair and pinned beneath Grayson on my bed. This proved to be too tempting for Grayson’s next-to-nonexistent restraint. He kissed me, and even with the strobe light and the death metal blaring, I kissed him right back. We kept it up for quite a while, and that’s how my mom found us when she got home from work.
Grayson tried to tell her it was in the name of science. I blamed all the Red Bull. Neither excuse was acceptable for my mom. She sat us down and forced us to tell her exactly what was going on. I showed her my science journal about our experiment, hoping it would make her take pity on me. I think it did, but she didn’t really calm down until after she read Grayson’s journal.
I don’t know what Grayson had been writing in that thing, but whatever it was, it couldn’t have been as scientific as he claimed it was. Mom read his “prologue,” then ordered the two of us to go cook dinner, while she curled up in a chair and devoured the rest of the journal like it was one of her soap operas. I heard her laugh out loud many times, and when she finished, I noticed a small pile of tissues sitting on the end table.
Mom had always loved Grayson, but after reading his journal, I think she might have actually fallen in love with him. For me, I mean. She completely forgave us for making out on my bed with the door closed and pretty much acted like we were going to be married one day.
She did, however, manage to threaten him within an inch of his life if he so much as laid one finger on me during our overnight the next day. I think she planned on duct taping us both to our own beds.
The next day on the slopes, Mom and I ended up on a ski lift together, and I couldn’t help asking, “What the heck is in Grayson’s journal?”
Mom smiled at me with this love-struck twinkle in her eyes. “He’s such a good boy, isn’t he? I’m so glad he’s been there for you.”
I sighed. No way was she going to spill the beans. Grayson had her completely wrapped around his little finger.
After a minute of silence, mom sucked in a big gulp of the cold, fresh mountain air. “You know, Avery, I owe you an apology.” Her voice was really small all of a sudden. “You and Aiden both.”