I punch Callum in the arm. “He’ll be lucky to get a kiss.”
“True,” Callum concedes.
Once all the beer has been consumed, and couples are drifting away from the group to find privacy around the house, Brent Dodge bumps my shoulder with his. We are the only people at the table now. Only one other couple is still in the kitchen and—oh, whoa. Lin is up on her tiptoes and she and Kyle are going at it against the counter. Just guessing, but I think she might be over John.
“Dude,” Brent says with a laugh.
“Let’s go out front,” I tell him.
We end up on Callum’s porch swing. It’s dark out, and crickets are chirping in the bushes.
“So, Lin and Kyle?” he asks.
I wave off the comment. “Just having fun.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Like you and Rex Morino?”
Oh, for crap’s sake.
“All we did was kiss. Everyone is making a huge deal of it.”
“Just a kiss?” He sounds skeptical.
“Yes, just one single meaningless kiss. Girls can kiss for fun and not want anything else.”
He laughs. “No offense, but chicks always want something else. Tell the truth. Were you trying to get back at your ex?”
“No.” I clench my teeth, annoyed, even though I know he’s not trying to offend me. “I just felt like kissing someone.”
“Okay.” His voice lowers. “Well, what if I just felt like kissing someone right now?”
“I’d say do it.”
His eyes get wider as I remain right where I am, relaxed in the swing, a smile creeping onto my face as a sense of power fills me and my blood pounds.
“For real?” he breathes.
“You’re taking too long.”
When he leans toward me, I meet him halfway. Our lips sort of collide, and he kisses me so hard I have to grab his shoulders to keep from being pushed backward. To say his tongue is dominating my mouth is an understatement. I feel the nervous eagerness rolling off him, and I need to rein him in.
I pull my head back and look at him, giving us both a second. His eye search mine, questioning. So, I give him a soft peck. Then a longer one. I slowly slip my tongue back in his mouth and stroke his, showing him a better pace. He learns quickly and takes my lead, moaning into my mouth as we find a good rhythm.
Ah, kissing. It’s truly a weakness for me. Everything else goes bye-bye when I let myself get wrapped up in the scent and feel of a guy. Letting go feels amazing.
Until the front door opens and we yank apart. I wipe the corner of my mouth inconspicuously as one of the guys and his girlfriend walk out. Brent lifts his chin and says, “Later, bro.”
The guy nods, then both he and the girl look back and forth between us. I swing my legs innocently and smile until they get to their car.
When Brent turns back to me, I stand before he can try to kiss me again. Maybe it’s mean of me, but I’d gotten what I came for and now I’m done.
“I gotta go round up the girls.”
“You’re leaving already?” Aw, he sounds disappointed. Sweet guy.
“Yep.”
“Can I, like, call you or something?”
I bite my lip. “Remember, Brent, this was just for fun. No expectations?”
“Yeah, I know. I just meant . . . yeah.”
Again, I should feel bad, but I don’t. I squeeze his arm and pass him.
“See you around,” I say.
“Okay. See ya.”
I leave him sitting there in a near trance and go straight to the kitchen, where Lin is still lip-locked with Kyle, only now she’s sitting on the countertop with her legs around him.
“All right, Lin-lin,” I say. “Time to go.”
She groans. I walk up and Kyle moves aside for her to hop down. He catches her by the waist.
“Bye, Kyle,” she says, smiling shyly.
“Bye.” He runs a hand through his hair and walks off. Lin and I make evil genius faces, like coconspirators.
We go to the back door and I holler out into the darkness. “Hey, Kenz! Time to go!” A shuffle sound comes from around the corner and I hope she’s used her time wisely. One look at her tinged cheeks as she comes into view tells me she has. Vincent is nowhere to be seen. Kenzie is in a daze when she takes my hand.
I lead Kenz and Lin to the door of the basement and yell, “Monica!”
“What?” comes her voice from the den below.
“Let’s go!”
Seconds later she bounds up the stairs, grinning, her voluminous hair and chest bouncing. Mateo stands at the bottom of the stairs.
I give him a wave. “Later.” He raises his chin in response, looking baffled by our sudden departure.
Monica smiles down at him, and then the four of us are out the door, arm in arm down the middle of the dark street like Dorothy and her gang headed to the Emerald City. It’s just after midnight.
“Please tell me you girls got some kisses. I know Lin did,” I said. “She nearly set the kitchen on fire.”
“Yeah, baby,” Monica says. “That skinny boy can kiss, too. How ’bout you and Brent?”
“Yep. It was a little rough at first, but we worked it out.”
They laugh, and we all look at Kenz. Hello, Stargazer. Monica elbows her.
“Hm? Oh, yeah . . . we kissed.” She sounds bashful.
“Two for each of us! Still tied!” I hoot, punching the starry sky and doing a cartwheel. Lin runs into the nearest yard and does a roundoff back handspring. Then we dance our way down the street, laughing as we pirouette and high kick like dance team girls. But we really aren’t fancy dancers. To prove it, Monica stops next to a fire hydrant, eyes us with mischief, and breaks into a twerk, bouncing her booty in front of the hydrant. We crack up as we join in, gyrating like true Peakton girls until an old lady turns on her porch light and glares at us through her window.
Kenzie squeals, “Ahh! A witch!” and takes off running down the street at a sprint. The rest of us try to catch up, grabbing our stomachs with laughter.
When we turn the corner we hear the rhythmic beat of drums, and we gravitate to the front yard of the house where it’s coming from, but it looks dark.
“I think it’s coming from the basement,” Kenzie says.
We tiptoe in the dark to the side of the house and peer into a small rectangular window at ground level to see a band. It looks like they’re warming up. I recognize the main guitarist at once.
“That guy’s a senior at our school.”
“And I know him.” Monica points to the bassist, the quiet redheaded guy from my English class.
“Flynn Rogers!” I say. We watch as they pluck strings to tune instruments, and the drummer runs through a few rounds of beats.
Flynn parts his reddish curls down the middle and tucks them behind his ears. It’s weird to see him out of school, being all serious. As his fingers move fluidly over the strings, a rich, low current of music flows up to us. I’m impressed.
“Can I help y’all?” The voice comes from behind us, and we all jump, squealing.
A guy carrying a huge keyboard under his arm laughs at our startled faces.
“Sorry,” Lin says, standing and adjusting her skirt. “We just heard the drums, and . . .”
“It’s cool,” says the guy. He looks older, maybe in his twenties. “We’re practicing to audition for the battle of the bands thing in DC next week.”
“That’s awesome,” I say. “Good luck. Sorry for spying.”
He lifts a shoulder and grins, leaving us. We giggle as we sprint away.
We’re panting when we crash in Monica’s room, trying to be quiet. Kenzie flops onto the bed next to Monica, staring up at the ceiling.
“You guys,” Kenzie whispers, “I think I’m in love with Vincent.”
I stiffen and let out a bleating sound of shocked disapproval, then I leap up and jump over Monica to pounce on top of Kenzie, straddling her thin waist and grabbing her shoulders.
�
�No, no, no!” I say, playfully pushing her into the bed over and over, making us bounce. “You’re not allowed to fall for him!”
“I’m sorry!” She lets out a swoony sigh. “He’s just so . . . I can’t believe . . . he actually started talking to me. It was like once we kissed, it broke some sort of silence spell and . . .” She sighs.
Kenz is a goner too early in the game.
I shoot from the bed and swing my gaze accusingly between Lin and Monica.
“Please tell me neither of you are in love already.”
Monica rolls her eyes and waves a hand. “Girl, please.”
Lin chews her lip. “Well, Kyle is really hot. . . .”
“Lin!” Monica and I bellow.
She giggles and falls over. “Hurry up and find me another boy to kiss!”
I sigh with relief. That’s the spirit.
One friend down. I crawl to my spot on the air mattress and turn my back to the others as Monica switches off the light. Kenzie climbs down next to me and snuggles into my back.
Yes, Vincent is a nice guy, but how long until he breaks Kenzie’s heart? Anger swirls inside me, courtesy of Wylie and my dad. No guy can be trusted. I can’t stop my friends from falling; all I can do is be here for them when it ends.
As for me, I can never go back.
Chapter Fifteen
Tuesday Morning
Haremos el chorizo y los huevos.”
“¿Compraste tortillas?”
“Sí, están allí. Mira.”
Loud voices permeate the stillness of the room, joined by blaring bachata music.
Kenzie rolls over next to me and slings an arm over her eyes. “Oh, my gosh, is there a fire?”
“They’re talking about breakfast,” I whisper. She smacks her lips and snuggles closer to me, probably still dreaming about Vincent. Ugh.
Up in the bed, Monica groans and Lin shoves her head under the pillow. It’s six thirty in the morning. This is the only downfall of staying at Monica’s. Her mom and aunt don’t even try to be quiet. And music at full volume, really? I sit up, blinking, fully awake. I pull on my jeans and leave my grumbling, half-asleep friends.
“Ah!” Miss Sanchez says when she sees me. We kiss cheeks, and I do the same with her older sister and mother.
“Buenos días,” I say over the music, and they both beam at me. Monica prefers to speak English, so the Sanchez women love that I’ll converse in Spanish. Miss Sanchez has been in the United States since she was eighteen, but her older sister and mother only came five years ago, so some of their English is still broken.
We talk for a few minutes in Spanish before Monica trudges in, glaring, bedhead in full effect. Her mother and aunt scoff at her. Monica tries to turn down the radio, but her grandmother smacks her fingers.
“You no brush you hair!” her aunt scolds.
“It’s too early,” Monica grumbles. “Can’t we make an eight a.m. rule for the weekend?”
“No es the weekend,” her grandmother says. “Es Tuesday.”
“But it’s spring break!” Monica puts her head on the table as Lin and Kenzie come in.
“You went to sleep too late,” her mom says. “It’s not our fault.”
Kenzie puts a hand in the air and one on her stomach, and twists her hips back and forth to the beat, making Monica groan.
Miss Sanchez dances at the stove. She’s short. Monica must get her long legs from her dad.
We’re just sitting down to eat when my cell rings with an unknown local number. I almost don’t answer, but then I wonder if it’s my dad at his new house. So I get up and move to the hall.
“Hello?”
“Yes, hello. This is Mrs. McOllie from Clara’s Bowtique. May I speak with Zae Monroe?”
The lady from the mall! “This is her . . . er . . . she.”
“I’m calling to see if you’re able to start this morning?”
My heart splutters. “This morning?” I look at the clock on the wall. It’s seven now. “What time?”
“Nine o’clock. We’ll first discuss your pay and hours. If you accept the offer, we’ll have an hour before opening to show you the register and have you fill out the financial forms.”
Wow! Excitement swirls in my head. “So . . . I’m hired?”
“On a trial basis, yes.”
“Thank you! Yes, I can be there at nine.” She can probably hear me smiling through the phone.
“Very well. Please be prompt. I will see you soon.”
She hangs up and I squeal when I get back in the kitchen. I’m bombarded with questions and commands to finish my breakfast before I leave, so I do, then I rush off, smiling when I get back to the apartment to shower and get ready. Zeb is still sleeping when I leave, so I write a note to him and Mom and close the door quietly.
The register is easy to work, and I love the bleep of the little scanner. Actually, I love everything about the job. I help Mrs. McOllie open shipments of boxes and put the new items on shelves and hooks.
“I keep a very close inventory and itemization of my stock,” she says sternly. “If something is stolen I will know.”
I pause and look at her, offended. “I wouldn’t steal.”
She looks right back at me, chin lifted. “The employee you’re replacing allowed their friends to shoplift.” Mrs. McOllie glances up at the video camera in the corner, and I nod in understanding.
“That won’t happen,” I say, trying to shake off the feeling of hurt. This lady’s been burned before, so I know I shouldn’t take it personally.
“Good. Because there will be shifts when you are alone, and you will be trusted with closing the store and counting the money. It requires maturity, honesty, and responsibility.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, imagining being here all by myself and feeling a swell of pride.
She goes back to stocking, so I do the same. When a customer comes in, she shoos me toward the register, and I jump to my feet, smiling brightly at the woman with a toddler.
“Welcome to Clara’s,” I say too loudly. “Let me know if you need any help.” The woman nods and starts to browse. I keep a stealthy eye on her, without being a creeper. When she’s ready to check out, my hands are shaking, and I nearly forget every single thing I just learned, but I work it out.
Mrs. McOllie tries to force me out for lunch, but I tell her I’m not hungry. Truth be told, I don’t have any cash to buy food. My stomach keeps clenching around its emptiness, but I’ll survive until I get home.
A group of guys meanders by the store, and I make eye contact with one—Flynn Rogers. I wave, and he points to his chest in question, looking behind him. I laugh and nod. He says something to the guys and comes in. I notice his lightly freckled cheeks get a little color as he approaches. He’s pretty tall. I guess I’ve never taken full notice of him before.
“Hey!” I say. “I heard you practicing last night.”
“Oh.” He scratches the back of his neck, smiling nervously. “That was you at the window?”
“Me and my nosy friends, yeah. Good luck at the auditions.”
“Thanks.”
Mrs. McOllie clears her throat and approaches. Oh, crap.
“See you around,” I say quickly. He takes my hint and leaves. Mrs. McOllie gives his retreating back a disapproving glance before going back to whatever she was doing. Man, she’s tough.
She lets me go at two, with instructions to be back the next morning. There’s a bounce in my step when I leave, and I feel more grown-up and independent than ever before.
I text my friends before I leave the mall parking lot: I love my job!
Kenzie: Yay!!
Me: Where’s the party tonight?
Monica: IDK but we’ll find one.
Lin:
Kenz: Hey, guys?
I wait for her to say something else, and when she doesn’t, I get a bad feeling.
Me: Plz say you’re going. I pause and grit my teeth, then type, Vin can come, too, if you want.
Kenz i
mmediately responds: Yay! He’s out of town part of break, but on days he’s here I’ll bring him. Thanks!
Oy. Just what we need. A guy in tow. A shy, seemingly nice guy, but a guy nonetheless, cramping our style, infringing on girl time.
I’m bitter and grumpy as I start the car, and before I can make it out of the lot, the minivan starts doing this weird bump, bump, bump thing on one side. My heart accelerates as I pull into a space and get out.
Oh, my freaking gosh. One of the tires is half-flat! What do I even do?
I text Mom and she calls right away from work, panicking.
“We can’t afford a new tire, Zae!”
My eyes well with tears. “Well, I’m sorry! It’s not like I did it on purpose!”
“I know.” She sighs and then uses her matter-of-fact tone. “Look, I can’t leave work. I’m the only one here and there’s sourdough in the oven. I’ll give you the number of the insurance company. You have to call and tell them where you are. They’ll take you to Ruddick’s Auto, and you’ll need to tell them I’ll come in after work to pay.”
“I don’t know how to deal with insurance stuff and auto shops!” Now I’m panicking. “What about Dad?”
“He’s at work, too. I need you to be a big girl, Xanderia.” Ugh! “I will text you the information now. Take care of it.” She hangs up.
I stare down at my phone, shaking. This is grown-up crap. I am way out of my comfort zone. She texts me the insurance phone number, our policy number, and the phone number of the auto place.
My hands are trembling as I call the insurance company. The lady who answers puts me at ease right away and takes care of everything for me. She says she’ll have a tow truck to me in twenty minutes.
I sit in the van, feeling annoyed by the unexpected waste of time, until the tow truck guy comes and hooks it up. He’s an older man, small and skinny. He seems nice enough, but I’m still weirded out when he points to the old tow truck and tells me, “Hop in the cab.”
Yikes. It smells like dirt and something sour. I spend the entire drive to the shop going over ways to defend myself if Old Dude tries to make a move. But he’s quiet and polite.
When we pull up in front of Ruddick’s Auto, my heart speeds up again.
“Um, do I need to pay you?” I totally don’t have any money.
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