Sage groans and runs a hand over his face. He clears his throat. “We should go. I told Anya I’d only be a couple of hours, but it’s been about five.”
I blink. “Really?”
“Yeah. Almost six,” he says with a laugh. “Time flies when you’re on a good date.”
Yeah.
Especially when it’s with your dream-guy.
CHAPTER 22
A week after North’s coming out, a girl that’s in a couple of my classes (but has actually never spoken a word to me before), comes up to me in the crowded school hallway, looking all can-we-talk?
I tilt my head at her.
“Listen,” she says, sounding all I’m-just-going-to-get-to-the-point, “Your boyfriend turned out to be gay, right?”
I narrow my eyes at her, but then slowly nod, highly defensive, and cautiously on guard.
“I’m not knocking that,” she says. “I have absolutely no opinion on that,” she stresses. “But here’s the thing—since you’ve been wearing your hair down, my boyfriend has become obsessed with you. But you used to wear your hair up in a braid—before you got the boyfriend … and, well, since he’s gay, now you don’t have to look all gorgeous for him …”
I tilt my head. “You want me to start wearing my braid again?”
“Well, I was thinking more like cut your hair off—I’ll pay you to cut it.”
I blink. “How much?”
“A lot.”
I don’t know if she realizes how freaked out she made me just by mentioning her boyfriend is ‘obsessed’ with me (though I have no idea who her boyfriend even is), but just hearing that was enough to make me grab scissors and do it for free. (My middle school berserk ex had been ‘obsessed’ with me.) (Obsessed is bad.)
I swallow. “I’ll think about it,” I tell her, though I’m still wondering how much ‘a lot’ is.
I mean, the offer is mega-tempting.
I could use ‘a lot’ of money.
CHAPTER 23
Tonight I’m having a little slumber party thing. My mom said I could as she and my dad were heading out the door for Barbados. Or Belize. Or somewhere. Off for a “weekend getaway.”
And Sage was going off to a party his friends were throwing for his birthday (though his friends throw a party every weekend, but whatever). We already had a family party for Sage on his actual birthday, last Tuesday. I got him a shirt that said, “I’m a Fermata. Hold me.”
It’s a band-geek joke. See, you hold a fermata note. (I got it for him because he used to be all into the trumpet back when he lived with us before, and the other day we got out our old musical instruments from our old band class and played them together—badly.) (It had been fun.)
Anyway, since my parents were going away, and Sage was going to be out as usual, I decided to spend the night with the girls. You know, now that I was single again.
I only invited three friends over though—my closest friends. We haven’t actually had a sleepover in a long time.
As I’m telling them about Francy’s proposal—you know, me to cutting off my hair, Sage apparently overhears.
“Wait—what?” he says. “Don’t cut your hair. Please don’t.”
I blink, surprised he cares—I mean, so much. And okay, I’m surprised he was listening. I’d thought he already left to hang out with his “cool” friends, and Popular-Barbie girlfriend.
I stammer out, “Well, she offered to pay.”
He grunts. “How much did she offer to pay you? I’ll pay you more not to do it.”
I’m touched beyond words. I swallow, then try to sound flippant, instead of letting him know my heart is turning to mush. I question him with a playful grin, “You don’t just love me for my hair … right, bro?”
I say the ‘bro’ all teasing, since he always calls me ‘sis’—when he wants to tease me.
“No,” he says softly. “But I’d miss it.”
He gives me a tiny look. “Please don’t cut it.”
Okay, seriously, my heart has melted like butter. It’s a puddle at his feet.
I bite my lip. “I guess I won’t. If it matters that much to you.”
His eyes meet mine. “It matters to me.”
My heart pounding, I clear my throat. Gripping the table for support, I confess huskily, “Okay, but I was thinking it didn’t matter. I mean, it seemed like easy money. My ex-boyfriend is gay and the most action I get is in my sleep.”
“Not anymore,” he murmurs. He smiles weakly as he clarifies, “You don’t get action in your sleep anymore.”
“I don’t?”
He shakes his head slowly. “You’re cured. I guess.”
No, it’s more like my subconscious really is aware he has a girlfriend—and I can’t compete.
I mean, I’m his, you know …
bah
sister.
Sigh.
My friends are standing silently listening to us, with their jaws dropped, though they have no idea what we’re talking about. (I never told them about me kissing him in my sleep.) (Duh.)
But they heard him plead with me not to cut my hair. And they are always trying to brew up a romance between us. (They ignore the word ‘brother’ in the word foster-brother.) (They just think: Hot guy living in my house, that’s not technically a relative, and I haven’t seen in over nine years.)
Sage glances around at them now, like he’s just remembering they’re in the room.
A small grin quirks on his lips from their staring eager faces. “I’m going to go,” he says. “Have fun.”
But right as he’s heading out the door all the lights go out.
Pitch black.
“Sage!” I call in a panic.
“Yeah, I’m right here,” he says, shutting the door and coming over to me. “Relax,” he murmurs. “It’s okay.”
I grab his hand anyway. He gives it a little squeeze. “I’ll go check the fuse,” he says.
“I’ll go with you,” I tell him, clinging to him.
He gives a soft laugh. “You know it’s just a power-outage or something,” he says, “—a mass killer didn’t cut the line or anything.”
“Right. I know,” I murmur, still clinging to him tight. ‘Cause I’m still freaked out about that girl telling me her boyfriend is ‘obsessed’ with me. (Maybe I’ll get my hair cut, after all.) (Shiver, shiver.)
Actually, I’m not the only person spooked. All my friends crowd around us as we slowly make our way down to the fuse-box in the basement. In the pitch-black darkness. (Well, okay, there’s the sole light from the flashlight Sage grabbed.)
But still. Girls at a slumber party without parental guidance during a blackout—face it, that’s your basic slasher movie.
CHAPTER 24
Turns out that at least the whole street is without power. Sage agreed to stay with us until the lights came back on.
So here we all are now, huddled in our sleeping bags with a candle in the middle of our circle and Sage the center of our attention.
He suggest we tell ghost stories, but just from his first little bit of his haunting tale has me practically on top of him. He laughs about it, not seeming to mind, in fact seeming delighted, but I’m a big chicken, I tell you. And he’ll be leaving as soon as the lights come back on and I’ll be stuck with his eerie story in my head and only my scaredy-cat friends to protect me.
“No stop!” I beg him. “Don’t go on!”
He breathes out a laugh, putting a teasing, though comforting, arm around me. He grins, “But I thought that’s what girls do at slumber parties—tell ghost stories.”
“Well, when they’re not big chickens. But I assure you, we are all big chickens, and you’re going to run off and leave us as soon as the electricity comes back on, and then I swear, we’re all going to have heart attacks. You’ll come home to a house full of dead girls.”
“Okay, well, I don’t want to be the cause of a slumber party massacre—where nothing but imaginations are the cause of the carnage.” He holds
me tighter, like I’m his favorite cat and he doesn’t want me to squirm away. (Scaredy-cat, that is.) (Nonetheless, his favorite.) (Though keep in mind—pet.)
He grins, “I also hear pillow fights happen at slumber parties. Carry on with that tradition, I’d like to see it.”
“I bet.” I bonk him in the face with my pillow.
He laughs, “No, no just pretend I’m not here.” He grabs my pillow from me, since he’s my only target.
He lays on top of my pillow and goes on with a grin, “And you’re supposed to be wearing something different—nighties. I hear it’s like a rule. Don’t break a rule on my account.”
“We usually play truth our dare,” Clary announces.
“Yeah, when we were twelve,” Becca says, rolling her eyes. Then she gets excited, “But we could play spin the bottle!”
Ohhh! She would love that. She is sooo into Sage it’s not even funny. (Seriously, it’s not funny.)
(Well, okay, it is a little bit.)
Lydia laughs, “Becca, we have exactly one boy. What’s the point of the bottle?”
Sage grins, “I’m up for spin the bottle.” He raises his eyebrows, “—and you really don’t need any more boys. In fact, you don’t need boys at all.”
I give him a punch in the arm, “We’re not going to have pillow fights in our nighties or start kissing each other to fulfill your gross boy-fantasies.”
“Well, it’s my birthday,” he grumbles playfully. “So, I thought maybe this was secretly my party—a surprise party. I thought it was really nice of you. But now you’re being all mean—no nightie pillow fight? No girl on girl action? What kind of slumber party is this?”
I give him a head noogie. “Um, not a porn one?”
“It’s your birthday?” Becca says, all enthusiastic—and ignoring my stressing that this is not a porno. “Come on, we can play spin the bottle for his birthday—whoever the bottle lands on has to kiss him.”
She looks around the room excitedly, “Come on you guys! It’s his birthday!”
Then she explains it again, like we don’t understand her complicated rules, “He’ll spin the bottle and whoever it lands on has to kiss him.”
“Or show him whatever he wants to see!” Clary announces. (Um, she obviously missed my ‘not a porno’ announcement.) (Also, she’s clearly gone to some whacked out slumber parties … not judging, but yikes!)
As we’re all about to comment (hilariously) on this unusual addition to the game …
“Wait!” Clary exclaims, making us all about have heart attacks, ‘cause she’s so loud about it. “I remember what we used to do at our slumber parties!—tell the future.”
She smiles slyly at Sage, “I’m a little bit psychic.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Oh yeah?”
He rubs his mouth. “Okay, that can be my birthday present from you,” he says. “You know, instead of the peepshow, which was a kind offer, by the way—I’m sure a lot of my friends would like that present from you on their birthdays.”
“Well, I’m not going to offer it to them,” she says gruffly. “Here, give me your hand,” she says, “I’ll read your aura.”
She holds his hand and closes her eyes, then predicts, “You want to kiss Gypsy.”
She says it quite assuredly.
Sage grins, “Really? That’s what my aura says?”
“Well, no. That’s what your eyes say. I caught you staring at her earlier.”
My friends all do the awwww noises. Meanwhile, I go up in flames.
“Hey, that should be Gypsy’s present to you!” Lydia exclaims, “—a kiss!”
“Yeah, kiss him!” They all start chanting. (They’ve all had way too much sugar.) (It’s very embarrassing.)
Sage grins, like they’re a little nuts. “No. She doesn’t have to kiss me. She’s my sister, so that would be, you know, wrong. Plus, I’m pretty sure my girlfriend wouldn’t like it.”
“Oh yeah, you have a girlfriend now,” Becca says kind of pouty-like. “That’s a little weird for you. What brought that on?”
He blinks, “Me having a girlfriend?”
“—Love,” I tell them quickly, so they don’t start insisting that we kiss again. “He’s in love with her.”
He gives me this tiny look. “Well, that’s a little bit strong,” he says.
He says it sounding almost questioningly. Like he can’t understand why I would say it.
“Well, practically love,” I tell them. “He gets a big smile on his face whenever she texts.”
He gives me another look. “I’m sure I get a smile on my face whenever you text me too.”
“Yeah, but I’m your sister,” I nudge him. “You have to smile when I text—or I’ll cry. And tell my mom.”
He rubs my hair, “Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of—you telling on me. Otherwise, I’d rub your head in the dirt and steal your phone.”
I give his arm a pinch. “Well, you stole my glasses.”
He gives me a weak grin, darkly sardonic, “Because you would use them like a weapon against me. If I did anything you didn’t like—or looked at you funny—you’d put them on.”
“Well, you shouldn’t look at me funny,” I mumble playfully.
His jaw muscles tick. He grins, “I try not to.”
“Okay, you guys should definitely kiss,” Lydia says.
CHAPTER 25
“I’ll get more candles,” Sage announces, pulling himself up from beside me on my sleeping bag.
Instantly missing his warmth, I hop up too. “I’ll go with you.”
I follow him down the hallway to our laundry room, and hold the flashlight for him as he hunts the cupboards for candles.
As usual, I feel all warm and toasty about him. And I can’t help thinking about what he said—about that I feel safe with him, and that’s maybe why my subconscious kept going after him at night—releasing all my pent up wants and desires that my conscious would never allow to be released. Though let me tell you, it wants hugs and kisses bad too.
It does.
Really, really bad.
Of course Sage is probably not contemplating this stuff. At all. He’s probably hoping we won’t actually be needing all these candles he’s hunting up. He’s probably hoping that any second the lights will turn back on so he can escape to a “real” party. And, you know, run off to his girlfriend, who keeps texting him and is probably yelling at him to get his butt to her party, before she comes here and drags him to it herself.
“I’m sorry you’re missing your party,” I tell him.
He laughs softly. “What? Are you kidding? Getting to be with you is better than a party.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, right.”
“You put your arms around me all tight—best present ever.”
“Geez, you can stop. It’s not like you can see my blush in the dark.”
He grins. “Yes I can.”
“Can I—try something?” Before he can ask what, I grab him by the collar and kiss him like I did North that day. Only, holy smokes! This time instantly things are different. Immediately, Sage’s hands are in my hair and his hot, velvet tongue entwines mine, crushing my body to his as he hungrily kisses me like there is no tomorrow. Like he’ll never get enough of me, or my enraptured mouth.
Holding my head, he deepens the kiss even further, making me lose my mind. And balance. He has to hold me up. I swear. My limbs have turned to liquid. Still, he does it—holds me up as he passionately kisses me on and on, like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.
I’m on fire.
He runs his rough hands down my arms, my heart pounding beneath his glorious touch, he moans in my mouth. Excited shivers rack my body. I hadn’t expected all this passion from him—at all. I’d just been thinking about what he said—that I felt safe with him. So, impulsively, I wanted to test it. See if I could actually kiss him—awake and fully conscious. Apparently I can. With gusto. My passion is building and building, like I’m going to frickin’ explode.
>
He tilts my head back, deepening the kiss even further, his hot, hungry mouth driving me wild.
His breathing fast and getting faster, he murmurs in my mouth, “I’m taking all I can get, Gypsy.”
He says it warningly. That he’s not going to stop. Ever. Unless I make him.
I pull away from him.
Reluctantly, he lets me go with a throaty groan. He rests his forehead on mine, his heart pounding hard. After a moment, he tilts his head back slightly to look into my eyes.
Breathless and bewildered he asks huskily, “Believe me, I’m not complaining—but what was that about?”
I can’t help smiling. Huge. “I did it. I kissed a boy—not a gay one, and not in my sleep.” I raise my eyebrows, “I full-on kissed a boy.”
“Yeah. You did.”
He says it in a way I don’t understand.
He sounds … well, I don’t know how he sounds. Somber, or wistful, or something.
My chest goes tight. Immediately, I know I did something terribly wrong.
In a flash, the lights blink back on.
Sage backs away from me. “I’m going to go.”
“Wait!” I yelp, suddenly realizing what I’ve done. “I’m sorry Sage.”
He looks up at the ceiling. “I didn’t exactly push you away.”
“No. But I started it. I’m so sorry. Not just because it was inappropriate—but I made you cheat on your girlfriend.”
“Gypsy, I didn’t push you away.”
But he’s doing it now. He’s backing away from me and not going to talk about it.
He’s leaving as fast as he can.
To race to his girlfriend and kiss her blind.
And erase all memory of my kiss.
Because I’m his sister, and what we just did is forbidden—at least in his mind.
And his mind is all that I care about.
And in his mind, I’m his sister.
CHAPTER 26
As soon as Sage leaves the house, I text him. “I’m so sorry Sage.”
When I Fell For You Page 16