The Truth About Boys: A Stolen Kiss Novel

by Shana Norris

  “Um,” I said, feeling slightly dizzy from the spin. And Rory’s closeness. “I take that as a challenge. I’ll have you know, I was voted Best Dancer in my fifth-grade class.”

  He grinned, squeezing my hands tighter. “Bring it on then.”

  I looked over my shoulder at Miguel again, but he had disappeared into the crowd of people behind him. Rory gently put a hand on my chin and pulled my face back toward his.

  “Don’t worry about him,” he said.

  “I’m not,” I responded quickly, before I even knew if that was the truth.

  Rory moved naturally to the music. Of course, he sang along, too. I had a harder time keeping up with him than I had expected.

  “You’re wearing me out!” I said between laughs.

  “You’re the one with the killer moves,” Rory said.

  “No way,” I protested as I nearly tripped over my own feet. “You have me beat by a landslide.”

  “Let’s try this then.” Rory spun me around, making me fall into him again. He held me close, only the tiniest space between our noses.

  He was going to kiss me. I knew that feeling—his mouth slowly getting closer, his arms falling to my waist. Everything was going lightning fast and impossibly slow at once. Music and voices washed over us.

  Ashton’s words flashed into my mind. Just have fun, Kate. A fling never hurt anyone.

  Rory’s nose gently touched mine.

  Before he could get any closer, I pushed myself away, breaking his hold on me. I stumbled back to the DJ booth and collapsed into my seat, fumbling at the buttons on my soundboard. Rory followed, watching me without a word.

  “I need … I need to get my queue ready for the next set,” I said. My voice was clipped and hard. I bent over my laptop, staring at the words on the screen without really seeing them as a thousand thoughts flooded through my head all at once. What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I take Ashton’s advice and just enjoy what was left of summer? Why did I always have to overthink?

  It didn’t have to mean anything. Maybe it already meant nothing to him.

  When I finally dared to look up, Rory was nowhere in sight.

  Chapter 11

  I had just sat down at a table in the front corner of Mountain Dairy to relive—again—my almost kiss with Rory when I spotted a familiar figure walking along the sidewalk.

  Andrea.

  Instead of walking past the big plate glass windows like I hoped she would, she turned toward the door and walked inside. My fifteen-minute break had just started and I had planned to enjoy a cookies ‘n cream ice cream cone while browsing through the latest issue of Us Weekly that Luka had loaned to me.

  “Hi,” she said, clutching her big yellow bag in both hands. “Can I sit down?” Her hair, blonde and straight like mine, was pulled back into a ponytail on top of her head.

  “Sure,” I said, moving my magazine closer to my side of the table.

  The chair screeched across the floor as Andrea pulled it out. She winced at the noise before she sat down. “So are you on a break?” she asked me.

  “Yes.” Obviously. I watched her curiously. The last time she was here, she’d tried to tell me about Paisley coming to town. What news had she come to tell me this time?

  But Andrea didn’t seem to be in a rush to talk. She looked around the room, her eyes scanning the pictures hanging of the winners of the Impossible Colossal challenge, in which people tried to eat a huge sundae in thirty minutes. My gaze zeroed in on the picture of Hannah and Ashton, which I’d taken last summer when they’d won. They looked ecstatic—though Hannah looked a little green—with ice cream on their faces and in their hair.

  My eyes met Andrea’s. She was staring at me. She cleared her throat and began to talk.

  “You should have come with Paisley and me yesterday,” she said, twisting the strap of her bag around her finger. “We had so much fun. Those massages we got were just what we both needed. Very relaxing. And then we went over to Papa Gino’s and had some great lasagna for lunch—”

  “I don’t really like Papa Gino’s lasagna,” I interrupted.

  Andrea’s smile faded and she continued to play with the strap on her bag, twisting it around and around her finger, then untwisting it before twisting it again. “Yes, well, it was a fun day out. You should come with us next time.”

  “I’m really busy. I’m sure you understand,” I muttered before taking a big bite out of my ice cream.

  Andrea froze, her fingers now still with the purse strap wrapped around them tightly. She looked at me, her eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

  The bell over the door dinged as some customers walked in, shaking Andrea out of her frozen state.

  “Kate,” she said softly, “I’m sorry I haven’t been what you want me to be.”

  My throat stung, but I shrugged. “Don’t worry about it,” I said.

  Andrea leaned forward, lowering her voice so that no one else could hear her speak. “You’re eighteen now, Kate. You’re the same age I was when I had you.”

  I clenched my teeth together as hard as I could, trying to push back the tears gathering behind my eyelids. I kept my gaze on my ice cream.

  “I had hoped that you might start to understand how important family is,” Andrea said, her voice wavering a little. Anger swelled in me. Still, I focused on a chunk of cookie dough stuck to my cone like it was the most important thing in the world. I didn’t know what I might do if I looked up at her. “You know, Paisley’s making an effort to get closer to you.”

  My jaw ached with the tension that coursed through my body. Of course this was about Paisley. But I wouldn’t cry in front of Andrea. I never had, and I wasn’t about to start now.

  After a moment of silence, Andrea stood and pushed her chair back under the table. “You’re lucky. I didn’t have the options that you do.” Her voice wavered again. “I just … don’t know what else to do, Kate.”

  I felt her looking down at me a moment longer before she turned without another word and walked toward the door. I watched through a blur of tears as Andrea stepped outside, the bell chiming softly as the door closed behind her.

  Her words echoed in my head. Options. Again, I was reminded how I had messed up her big dream. But I was different. I could take care of myself.

  And I was going to nail that interview and head off to Greensboro soon, just like I had planned.

  My reflection smiled back at me from the bathroom mirror as I shook my hair back from my shoulders and said for probably the hundredth time, “Hi, I’m Kate Watts.”

  Was “hi” too casual? Maybe I needed to come across as more serious.

  “Hello, I’m Kathryn Watts.” I cringed. I hated being called Kathryn. Would they rather give a scholarship to a Kathryn than a Kate?

  “Good afternoon, I’m Kate Watts and I’d love to earn a bachelor of arts in mathematics at Greensboro College,” I said, flashing another wide smile. “What do I see myself doing in ten years? Well, that is a great question and one I’ve spent a lot of time considering.” I cleared my throat and went on. “In ten years, I see myself …”

  I stopped and closed my eyes, letting out a long breath. Focus, Kate. But I couldn’t think of anything to say. What would I do with a BA in math? I could teach. Not that I’d ever seen myself as a teacher. I could … what? Become a CPA?

  I groaned and collapsed onto the bathroom sink. A tube of toothpaste and a bunch of Paisley’s bobby pins clattered to the floor.

  “What are you doing?” a voice asked behind me.

  I jumped and turned. Paisley was slouched against the doorway. She wore one of her new sundresses she’d bought the other day. I had to admit that the dress was really cute, with pink and white stripes and a loose, flowing skirt.

  “Practicing for my scholarship interview,” I said.

  “Right,” Paisley said slowly. “Tell me again why you need to interview for math?”

  I slapped my note cards against the bathroom sink. “This isn’t just
about good grades. This scholarship is about being a representative for Greensboro. They’re going to be assessing my … body language and stuff.” I shook my head at her and turned back to the mirror. “The speech that I wrote is hard.”

  “If it’s so hard, why don’t you just wing it?” Paisley asked.

  “You can’t just give up if something’s hard,” I said through clenched teeth.

  Paisley sat down on the edge of the bathtub, smoothing her skirt over her legs. “Well, you look absolutely miserable. You look like a miserable girl who hates math.”

  My head whipped toward her and I scowled. “I don’t hate math.”

  Paisley rolled her eyes. “You could have fooled me. You don’t exactly look thrilled.”

  I turned around and straightened my button-up shirt. “I like math. And this is a great scholarship.”

  “There are other scholarships out there,” Paisley said. “Is that what you’re wearing to your interview?”

  Something inside me snapped. “What would you know, Paisley? You think every day is just another reason to go shopping or goof off. The rest of us have things we actually need to do, commitments we need to keep. Maybe one day you’ll grow up.”

  I spun on my heel and stalked from the room before Paisley could say anything else.

  Chapter 12

  On Saturday afternoon, I stood in front of the bathroom mirror again to practice. It was the perfect time—Paisley was out somewhere, Pop was taking a nap, and Mimi was cleaning around the house.

  And again I failed miserably. My tongue kept twisting over my words, my mind went blank sporadically, and I sounded like I had no idea what I was talking about. Don’t math geniuses always have social anxiety? Maybe I could make it work in my favor …

  I tried to style my hair so it looked genius-disheveled, but it just looked like I’d slept on it funny.

  Over my groaning and sighing, I almost didn’t hear the knock on the front door. Mimi was still at the other end of the house cleaning the bathroom, so I jogged downstairs to answer it myself.

  At least it briefly distracted me from the interview I was definitely going to botch. Maybe the evaluators would be impressed if I just read straight from my note cards.

  When I pulled open the front door, Rory stood in front of me, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his army green shorts. Yet another plaid shirt hung open over a white T-shirt.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked. I hadn’t given Rory my address, so I had no idea how he’d found me.

  “Just out for a walk around town,” Rory said, shrugging. He grinned at my confused look, then laughed. “You’re wondering how I found you, aren’t you?”

  I leaned against the door, tilting my head at him. “Oh, just a little. I’m back to thinking you might be stalking me.”

  “There are only two Watts households listed in the phonebook,” Rory said. “So I took a chance and came knocking.” He scratched at his head, his cheeks reddening.

  “You went to the other house first, didn’t you?” I smiled.

  “Busted. I pretended to be selling insurance.”

  I laughed. “I wish I could have seen that. I’m sure it was hilarious.” The thought of him looking for me door-to-door twisted my stomach into knots. “What brings you around my neighborhood?” I hadn’t seen him since the night of Miguel’s party, when he disappeared after our dance.

  “I was in the mood for a hike in the mountains,” Rory said. “But since I grew up in a city, I’m afraid I might get lost if I tried hiking on my own.” He shuffled one shoe across the concrete porch floor. “I thought maybe you might want to go with me and keep me from wandering off the trail?”

  He said it so shyly, not at all like the blunt guy I’d talked to over the last few days. A day out with Rory, time away from the interview, and the chance to avoid Paisley once she got back home. Sounded pretty good to me.

  “Sure,” I said. “Just let me get my shoes on and I’ll be ready.”

  I ran-hopped to my room and shoved my feet into my old sneakers, tying the laces as fast as I could. I called to Mimi that I was going hiking with a friend, and stopped in the kitchen long enough to stuff an old backpack with a few bottles of water, granola bars, and a box of chocolate chip cookies. Then I was back at the door, pulling it shut behind me as I joined Rory on the porch.

  “Let’s do this,” I told him, slinging my bag over my shoulder.

  I buckled myself into the passenger seat of Rory’s little blue Mazda, and he backed out of the driveway. A folksy song played from the speakers and an old VIP pass from a music festival in Atlanta hung from the rearview mirror. I took in Asheville and the blue mountains as Rory sang along softly with the music.

  The car smelled like him: pretzels and warm summer days and cedar.

  We only chatted a little as Rory drove. Mostly we argued about how to best get to Pisgah National Forest, where there were trails to hike along the mountains. Leave it to Rory to assume he’d know better than I would.

  My hands shook a little when I pointed for Rory to turn right, so I clamped them between my knees. Every bump in the road made my stomach flip and swirl in my abdomen. Rory reached over and my heart pounded in my ears when I thought that maybe he was about to touch my hand or leg or something. But no, he reached for the radio dial instead, changing the station until he found a Nirvana song.

  Don’t jump to conclusions, I thought to myself. We’re just going for a hike. It doesn’t mean that he actually likes me as anything more than a friend. He probably wasn’t even going to kiss me.

  But my body did not listen to my brain at all. Every little movement Rory made as he drove along the roads up the mountains sent me spiraling even further into crazed hyperawareness.

  When we reached the parking area for the hiking trails, I hitched my bag up on my shoulders. A bundle of excited energy bounced around inside me. I needed this hike if for nothing else than to settle my body down.

  “You ready?” Rory asked.

  “Scared of the open country?” I asked.

  “You wish,” he answered.

  I led the way though the mountainside, Rory trailing just behind me. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed the hiking and camping that Pop and I used to do. Rory listened as I talked about the many summers we’d spent in these trees, exploring the mountainsides and watching the wildlife around us. Andrea had never been into camping, so it was a special connection Pop and I had together, though sometimes we took Ashton with us, too. By the time I finished reminiscing less than twenty minutes later, Rory was already struggling.

  “You okay over there?” I asked as we made our way around a curve in the path. Rory nodded. “I’m … fine,” he panted.

  I couldn’t help laughing a little when I looked at his pale white face. “You look like you’re about to pass out. Do you need a break?”

  “No, let’s … keep going,” Rory said. He set his face in determination and continued up the trail next to me. “You ever gotten lost in these woods?” he asked a moment later.

  “Once,” I admitted, pushing a low hanging branch out of my way. “I was camping up here with Mimi and Pop and Ashton. Ashton and I decided to go off exploring on our own while Mimi and Pop were still at the campsite. We got turned around and didn’t know where in the world we were. We were sure we’d hiked all the way to Tennessee. So we started screaming for help.” I laughed at the memory. “Turns out we were only a hundred feet from our camp. Pop heard us shouting and found us.”

  Rory laughed. “I’m sure he didn’t let you two out of his sight after that.”

  “Nope,” I said. “And we didn’t let him out of our sight, either.”

  We stayed quiet as we passed an older couple heading down the trail, their faces red and sweaty. I pulled at the collar of my T-shirt, fanning myself a little as beads of sweat trickled their way down my back and chest. Hopefully I wouldn’t end up looking like a giant sweaty pig at the end of the hike.

  I wondered what
Andrea and Paisley were doing right then. I couldn’t imagine either one of them out here hiking in the woods. Paisley had more in common with Andrea than I did, like Paisley should have been the one who was really her daughter.

  Ashton’s comments that day at the pool about people changing flooded into my head.

  “Do you think people change?” I asked, unable to keep the words back.

  Rory pressed his lips together in a tight line as he considered my question. But then he shook his head. “I don’t know. If they do, I haven’t seen evidence of it.” After a few minutes, he spoke again. “This summer is not going how I had planned.”

  My stomach twisted at his words. Did he mean me? “Why is that?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

  “I’m having a hard time adjusting to living with my brother,” Rory said, brushing some dirt off his shorts. “He has all these plans and things he wants me to do. But they’re his plans, not mine.”

  “I think that’s probably every big brother in the world,” I told him. I shot him a grin over my shoulder, but he only gave me a weak half-smile back.

  Uh-oh. Serious Rory. This was not a Rory I was familiar with.

  We walked again in silence for a few minutes before he went on. “I used to come up here to visit my brother and my dad during the summer, but I haven’t spoken to my dad at all in six years. He walked out on us when I was a kid.” Rory stopped to pick up a small rock from the side of the trail, and I turned to face him. He threw the rock, but it didn’t go very far before it hit a tree and clattered to the ground, startling some birds that were sitting in the branches. They squawked, taking off in flight.

  Then quiet again.

  I took a deep breath, trying to find the courage to say the words on the tip of my tongue. “My dad hasn’t ever had much to do with me,” I said in a soft voice, slowing to a stop. I locked my gaze on a squirrel scampering through the branches overhead to not lose my courage to continue the conversation. “He and my mom had a one-night fling during high school, and then I was born. So I get what it’s like. To feel like your dad is a stranger, I mean.”