“If I’m going to be your first kiss, shouldn’t I get the chance to do it right?”
My stomach responds before my mouth does, in a stampede of butterflies. “I guess?”
“I mean, you’ll remember that kiss forever and it’ll be tainted with the whole scene. Veronica and the gossip magazines.” He gives me a cocky grin. “It definitely wasn’t my best work.”
That grin gets me. Every time. Bowls me over like wrecking ball. I should tell him no, that it’s okay. It was an act. No need to recreate the moment, but that’s not what I say. Instead, the following comes out of my mouth, “Well, if you really feel like you have something to prove.”
He releases my hand and straddles the bench, tapping my leg to do the same. We’re face-to-face, knee-to-knee, and I’d be so humiliated if he knew how hard my heart was pounding. My hair blows in my face and he reaches up, catching the loose pieces his hand, while pulling me to him. I lick my bottom lip and he swallows thickly, saying, “Are you sure about this?”
“Yeah,” I say, eyes darting to his mouth. “I’m sure.”
He leans forward and brushes his lips against mine, in the gentlest way. He pulls back, like he’s checking to see if it’s okay, and I push my hand through the hair on the back of his neck, encouraging him to continue.
That seems to do the trick, because he kisses me again, still slow, still gentle, but with a sense of confidence, purpose. In the privacy of the moment, I allow myself to sink into him, taking in the whole experience. I only get to do this once, get to feel this once, get to experience all this once, because Dean isn’t mine and even though this kiss seems genuine, it’s still not entirely real.
That’s what makes me pull away.
His thumb grazes my cheek and his eyes hold mine. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I shift backwards, creating distance between us. I face the ocean and let the breeze cool my hot lips. “Definitely an improvement,” I say, hoping my voice doesn’t crack. “Your first-kiss redemption is solid.”
We only stay out a few moments longer, under the guise of it getting late. It’s not until later, when I’m back home in bed, that tingling feeling on my lips begin to fade. I can’t help but wonder, if Dean's kisses feel like this when he’s not interested in a girl, what are they like when he is?
After Emily’s party, Dean and I end up seeing one another daily, often just to do our online assignments together, and increasingly I can’t quite tell where the arrangement ends and the real fun begins. We’ve accomplished almost everything on our lists. Dean’s figured out his social media and posts every few days. It doesn’t matter anyway. Andrew Xavier shared his workout video and his follower numbers exploded. A few times a week he drags me to the gym to help me gain a different kind of confidence. I think it’s working, because once the promos start for the next season of The Next Big Model, more and more people recognize me at Pie Whole or on the street, and I don’t feel the same sense of insecurity. I feel good about the show starting back in a few weeks.
Everything between us is good. Great. And…well, stagnant. If I’d had any question that the kiss we shared on the beach relayed any interest outside proving his own skills, I don’t anymore. He hadn’t made a single move. Less than a move.
We were strictly in the friend-zone.
Despite that fact, after his mom saw the photos of the two of us at the concert and our guilty behavior after our walk on the beach, she isn’t buying into the whole “publicity” aspect of our relationship. We’re not allowed to work at either of our houses alone. That’s how we end up sitting on a picnic table outside the Ocean Grove Creamery on a bright fall day, stealing their Wi-Fi.
We’ve been assigned a project for American Lit and we’re allowed to work in teams. This means we work online together, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be in the same place.
“We just need to add a few more notations about the gold rush and I think we’re good,” I tell him. “Hey, are you listening?”
We’re face to face at the table and he keeps shifting around, bouncing his feet. More than once he bangs into my knees.
“Yes, I’m listening,” he snaps. “Add the notations, blah, blah.”
I close my laptop and lean forward. “Did you just blah, blah me?"
His gray eyes soften. “Sorry. It’s just…”
“What, Dean? Spit it out?”
“How can you sit here so calmly? The smell is killing me.”
I frown. “The smell?” I glance over at the shop. “You mean the waffle cones.”
“Yes! The waffle cones.” His eyes narrow. “Did you bring me here on purpose to drive me mad?”
“Dude, I work in a pizza shop, surrounded by baking crust. I lost my sense of smell for things like this months ago.” I watch him wrestle with his issue for a few more moments. “You’re really struggling, aren’t you?”
He tugs at the ends of his hair. “I told you ice cream, this specific ice cream, is my weakness.”
“I mean we could just go get some. They’re open and Christian’s working today. I bet we wouldn’t even have to pay.” I peer into the window. Christian sees me and waves. I wave back.
“You know I can’t do that.”
“It’s one scoop of ice cream,” I argue. “It’s not going to destroy your six pack.”
“It’s like skipping a workout, or not learning my lines. If I cave one time, I could go down a slippery slope of—”
“Of sugary bliss?”
He makes a face. “You know I’m supportive of you, I don’t taunt you with things you can’t have.”
“Like what?”
“Like, like,” he fumbles for something. “Like ponytails or headbands or something.”
I narrow my eyes. “What did you say?”
He clenches his jaw. “You heard me. I don’t drag you to go pick out barrettes.”
A wave of anger crests over me. His tone isn’t nice. It’s mean. “I knew you hated my hair. You made fun of me the first time we met! This has all just been a huge practical joke or a way for you to get some attention.” I grab my laptop and storm in to the ice cream shop.
Christian looks up and smiles. “Lucy, hey—”
“I need a scoop of ice cream.” I glare out the window. Dean stands outside the glass door, his sharp jaw clenching. “No, make it a double.”
“Okay, sure. What flavor?”
“Whatever,” I wave my hand, too annoyed to choose. I mean, it’s eleven a.m. Who wants ice cream right now?
“Cup or cone?”
“One of those amazing-smelling waffle cones, please.” I flash him a smile. He gives me an odd look but reaches into the case with his scoop.
“You like chocolate, right?”
“I do.”
Dean has moved closer to the door, hand outstretched. Christian holds up a scoop of double fudge and raises an eyebrow. “I feel like I’m missing something. You two in a fight?”
“Not a fight. He’s just being an idiot.”
“It happens. I mean, the other night Maya and I got in an argument about what show we should binge watch. It was so stupid. But making up’s fun, right?” He winks.
I shift my glare to him. “We’re not dating.”
He pauses mid-scoop. “Okay sure, if you say so.”
“We’re not.”
“You spend all your free time together and you’re always giggling and laughing around each other.”
“So?”
“So,” he squishes the ice cream into the cone. “You pick out his clothes, Lucy. I’ve seen the way you look at him and I’ve definitely seen the way he looks at you.” He pauses, thinking. “If you’re not dating, then that could explain the tension rolling between the two of you all the time.”
The door swings open and Dean walks in. I ignore him and the fact I’m about to lose my mind over what Christian just said. Is Dean looking at me in a particular way?
Am I looking at him?
That, I know the answer to. I’m g
uilty with a capital G.
“I just think that sometimes you have to live a little,” I say in a loud voice. “Enjoy yourself. You know, let go of controlling every little aspect of your life.”
He hands me the cone. “Control?”
“Uh,” Dean says interrupting us, “Christian, can we get a minute alone?”
My roommate’s boyfriend looks at me. I roll my eyes and shrug. He wipes his hands and says, “Sure, I’ll just be in the back.”
I take a bite of my ice cream and start to move past Dean. He grabs me by the arm. “I never made fun of you.”
“Whatever.” A drip rolls down the side and I lick it, trying not to get panicky about everything Christian just said. He’s right. We do spend all our free time together. And we do laugh a lot. And twice I fell asleep on his couch only to wake up drooling on his chest. “I think this arrangement has run its course. The director loves you and you’ll probably get a full-time role on the show next season. Your grades are fine. You’ve even linked in with Andrew Xavier and hit social media gold. You’ve surpassed any help I can give you.”
His well-defined arms cross over his chest. “You wish.”
“Excuse me.”
“We’re not quite done with one another yet. I’ve been going easy on you, Luce. You owe me two things.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You owe me at least one more social outing.”
I think of the list. “You want me to go to a party or something with you? Emily’s birthday doesn’t count?” I’m stalling because I know that’s the easier of the two. The other, seeing my family, is not going to happen.
“I’ve been invited to a party at Reese’s house. I want you to come with me.”
Well, that’s better than a high school party. Probably.
“Fine. We made a deal. I’ll go, and not just out of obligation, but because I’ve made progress in my life and you’re stuck in the same cycle over and over again.”
I take another lick of my ice cream, pretending it’s no big deal. My heart, though, is hammering furiously. I almost ruined our relationship. All because of ice cream. What’s my problem?
I think back to how he called me out all those weeks ago.
I’m scared.
Of him. Of the kiss we shared. My feelings for him, but most especially
the way he’s looking at me right now. The anger has eased off his face and is replaced by something else undefinable. “I do want you to know that I was never making fun of you. Not once.” He takes a step forward. “You know I think you’re beautiful.”
His eyes hold mine. They’re so clear, so intense. It’s like he can see right through me.
I swallow and admit, “I respect your willpower, Dean. You’re not scared to get what you want. You know that caving to temptation may make you lose focus on your goals.”
He stands before me like he’s trying to make a decision, working through what I just said. I meant it. He’s so determined—nothing gets in his way. He has to give up all carbs? No problem. He has to drop out of school? He does it. He needs to work out extra? He goes for it. Me? Ask me to go to a party and I get all flakey.
The ice cream melts down my hand and I lift the cone to lick the sides. My hands are shaking from the fact we just had this argument and in a matter of moments seemed to make up. But there’s something between us…a tension. Is Christian right?
Dean hasn’t moved. He’s just watching me clean up the chocolaty mess. His tongue darts out and my stomach flip-flops and suddenly the room seems too small.
“I’m making a mess,” I say, reaching for some napkins.
“No,” he says, quietly. “I’m the one making a mess…well, actually, I’m afraid to make a mess.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re right. The world isn’t going to end if I step outside my regimented box. And I am stuck in this cycle of doing the same thing over and over again. It’s hard to break it when things are going good. But sometimes,” he takes the ice cream cone from me and takes a big bite and groans. “Sometimes that isn’t enough anymore. Mmmmhmmm. So good.”
“What’s happening?” I whisper, watching him eat the ice cream with abandon. He has chocolate on his lips and his eyes light up with joy and I’m so, so confused as well as a little turned on.
He hands me back the cone and licks the chocolate off his mouth, making my insides continue their acrobatics. “Something that should have happened weeks ago. Lucy, will you go to the party with me?”
“I already said I would.”
“No, I’m asking you. Will you go the party with me?” There’s a look replacing the usual cocky swagger on his face, an expression, something I’ve never seen before.
Vulnerability.
“You’re asking me out?”
“Yes. Please.”
The thudding in my chest reaches my ears; until he asked the question, I’m not sure I knew how much I wanted it. But I do want it, so I answer, “Yes, I’ll go with you.”
He smiles and reaches for me, pulling me tight in his arms. My hands are sticky with melted ice cream but I absorb his embrace, feeling right for the first time in a long while. Feeling whole.
He releases me and his eyes grow wide. “Crap. I left my laptop outside.” He turns and runs out the store.
I look down at my messy hands and see a figure come from the back. Christian. He gives me both a wide, knowing grin and a wad of napkins to clean up with.
“I told you.”
I nervously clean my hands. “I guess you did.”
I thank him before grabbing my own laptop and heading out the door. Dean Turner and I are going on a date.
A real one.
28
Dean
I stand outside Lucy’s door, wiping the sweat off my hands.
That’s right. I’m nervous.
I’m nervous about seeing the girl that’s become my best friend lately; the one that gets what I’m trying to accomplish in life. We have similar goals and aspirations. We also have fun. We laugh and she calls me on my stuff, she takes me down a notch and challenges me.
Oh, and her kissing? If what we shared was her first, I can’t imagine what kissing her after a little experience will be like.
It wasn’t true that my mother wouldn’t let us study at either of our houses. I was the one that made that rule. I’d known that if I was left alone with her, things would escalate. Every minute we spent together, things changed, at least for me. I wanted it to, even though I tried to pretend otherwise. We made a deal about our relationship and it wasn’t cool to go back on that, no matter how much I wanted to.
I’d been firm in my conviction. Focused like everything else in my life. I drew a line and stayed behind it until the day outside the ice cream shop. A switch flipped with her accusations about me not being able to take a break from it all and just relax enough to have the good things in life. I knew right when she said the words that it was true. I’d been resisting hard and what I wanted at that very moment wasn’t a freaking ice cream cone. It was Lucy Harrington.
So I manned up and did it. I asked her out, like for real, and for a moment I thought she’d say no. Tell me that’s not what she wants—that I’m not who she wants. But she said yes, and here I am, dressed in one of the outfits she picked for me, feeling more nervous than I have in my entire life.
I’m about to get up the courage to knock on the door when it opens, Lucy standing just inside. Her eyes travel over my outfit approvingly. And I try to keep my jaw off the floor. She looks amazing.
“Wow,” I say, taking her in. She’s in another funky dress that gives a hint to her curves and a pair of heels that make her legs look a thousand miles long. Her lips are painted red and I desperately want to take it off. Personally. “You look like a fashion model or something,” I joke, lamely.
She laughs and the sound chimes like music. “Not yet, but give it a few weeks and I’ll be on my way.”
It�
��s a confident statement and I like it. I love it when she’s strong. It reminds me of the girl from the show, only better. The girl in front of me has grown during our time working together.
“You’re looking pretty handsome, yourself.”
I shrug and open the door for her. “I’ve got an excellent stylist.”
My heart pounds just being near her and I take a deep, settling breath on my way back to the driver’s side. Lucy and I spend a lot of time together. I’m not sure why this is so different?
That’s a lie. I know why it’s different. This is everything laid on the table. Outside the box. Real.
I’ve got no control here.
“So where’s this party, again?” she asks once I’ve pulled out of the driveway.
“At Reese’s house, it’s mostly cast people. The younger group.”
Her eyes widened. “Wow, really?”
“Are you okay with that?” I’m worried I made a mistake.
“Yeah,” she smooths her dress, pulling my eyes to her legs. They’re amazing legs. “I can only imagine this will be like the most amped-up version of a 'high school' party ever, just with celebrities.” She smiles devilishly. “Oh, and Veronica is going to lose her mind when she finds out.”
I laugh. “I think you’re probably right about that.”
Lucy’s hand rests on the bench seat and I reach out and take it, winding our fingers together. I feel her eyes on me, wondering, but I focus on the road, not wanting any reason to let her go.
We talk about our upcoming schedules. Avondale is on hiatus for a month, but Marissa tells me that means I’ll need to be around for interviews and promotions. Lucy only has a few days before The Next Big Model starts. Then she’ll move into the contestant house full time until she’s either eliminated or it’s over. It could be a full month apart.
That’s something I definitely don’t want to think about now.
Reese’s house is in the gated community and I feel Lucy stiffen as we approach.
“You okay?” I ask
“I haven’t been back here much since I left.” She watches the massive houses go by. She points to one. “That’s Finley’s house—well, Chase’s house.”
Lucy and The Love Pact: Young Adult Fake Romance (Love in Ocean Grove Book 2) Page 12