by Sparling,Amy
I almost want to trip some more just to feel him grab me again.
We meander through the exhibit, looking carefully at each piece on display. The whole time, I’m keenly aware of Jonah’s body being so close to mine. Several times our arms brush against each other while we step closer to look at a painting or sculpture.
He reads the little description cards for me, always saying he doesn’t want me to fall head first into a Monet or Rembrandt.
We talk and joke and enjoy the art, but our topics of conversation stay about art until we reach a painting with a woman sitting in a rocking chair. Her expression is downcast, her hands tangled together in worry.
“Reminds me of my mother,” Jonah says, his voice soft.
I peer up at him, watching him admire the painting. “Your mother has dark hair and is thin,” I say, lifting an eyebrow. The woman in the painting is chubby and has red hair.
He glances at me for just a second and then looks back at the painting, letting his shoulders bump into mine. “Her expression. The rocking chair. Reminds me of when Marcus was locked up.”
I can sense this is deeply personal, but since he’s opening up, I only want to know more. “Who’s Marcus?”
He looks down at me, his tanned skin glowing under the spotlights from the ceiling. I can see a little stubble along his jawline, and his dark slightly curly hair hangs over his forehead, just begging to be brushed aside.
“Marcus is my brother. He’s twenty-two. Went to jail a few months ago.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. My hand moves on its own accord, my fingers brushing the hair from his eyes. “That must be hard.”
He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. We stand here, in front of a painting of a sad woman, for a long time. He never takes his eyes off me. Then he reaches for my hand and says, “Are you hungry?”
I’m too busy freaking out over how he’s holding my hand to understand his question at first. Our palms are together but our fingers aren’t interlaced. This isn’t a romantic hand hold, but a friendship one. Still, I’ll take what I can get.
“Yeah, I guess I’m hungry.”
The only food around here is a McDonald’s that’s built into the museum near the gift shop. It’s a weird combination—a fancy art museum and a colorful fast food joint, but it works. We order food and when Jonah tries to sneakily pay for both of our orders, I put a stop to that.
Kris pays for my food sometimes when we go out for lunch, but he actually likes me. Jonah doesn’t. I’m not stupid enough to take free meals from a guy who doesn’t even like me in the way I want him to.
I want to ask more about Marcus, but I don’t. Instead, I focus on dipping my fries into the little paper cup of ketchup in front of me.
Jonah watches me dunk a fry and take a bite.
I lift an eyebrow. “Can I help you?”
“I want to kiss you.”
Oh no he did not just say that. Heat rises in my stomach, the French fry hovering in the air between my fingers because I’ve suddenly forgotten what to do with it. Oh, right. I shove it in my mouth.
“I have a mouth full of French fries.”
He shrugs. “Your hotness transcends French fries.”
I swallow. He’s not taking his eyes off me. With a sigh I stare at the table. “Why would you even say something like that? You don’t like me. It’s just rude.”
“I never said I don’t like you.”
I roll my eyes. “You said you didn’t want me. You pushed me away from you under the stairs.”
“It’s…complicated,” he says after a bit. He reaches for his soda and drinks from the straw. His lips are all I can focus on. “I mean, I want to kiss you. I know I can’t, and I know I won’t, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”
My chest aches and I want to ask him why. Why am I not good enough? Why can he say things like that to me? Instead, I shake my head and say, “I’m dating someone.”
“Oh yeah?” he says, lifting an eyebrow in this way that challenges what I just said. “Who?”
“You know who.” I eat another fry.
“Edgemont?” He says it like it’s an insult. “You know, you have to actually go on a date with someone to be dating them.”
I look up. He nods as if he’s some all-knowing psychic who’s got me all figured out. “Just what I thought. Asshole gets favors from you but doesn’t even take you out properly.”
“He buys me lunch,” I say with a casual shrug.
“Not even close to being the same.” Jonah scrubs a hand down his face, his other hand still wrapped around his soda. “Zoey, girls like you deserve so much better.”
“Girls like me? What exactly does that mean? Prudes?”
He puts his hand on top of mine, but then removes it a second later. “You gotta get over that stupid list. It’s nothing. It’s bullshit. You know how many times I’ve been on there? I’ve never let it affect me.”
“What are you on there for?” I ask.
“Biggest loser, Biggest degenerate, Possibly homeless.”
My brows pull together. “Okay, I get the first two, but why would you be homeless?”
He runs a hand over his mouth, looking like he’s deciding if he should tell me or not. “You don’t remember back in freshman year? My dad died?”
I think back, but since I never really paid attention to rumors, I shake my head. “I’m really sorry you lost your dad.”
He nods quickly like he’s heard that a million times. “The bank took the house. Mom was a stay at home mom all her life and Dad didn’t have life insurance or anything. We were screwed until she found a job that paid her a months’ advance so we could get an apartment.”
“Wow. I’m so sorry.”
He shrugs. “It is what it is. But back to my point. You shouldn’t be dating idiots like Kris.” He points a fry at me. “Also, you’re not even dating him if he doesn’t take you out like you deserve. I wish you’d realize that.”
***
I let Jonah’s words tumble around in my brain for the rest of our museum visit. When you look at the facts, Kris and I aren’t dating, no matter how much I might want us to be. We’re just hooking up, although it’s one-sided hooking up like Dana keeps pointing out. But that’s all okay, isn’t it? It’s what I wanted. To date around and play the field and get some experience. This is fine.
Still, I long for more.
When the museum closes at six, Jonah and I walk back out to his car. He hasn’t held my hand anymore, but I’m wishing he would.
This time when he walks to the passenger side of his car, he opens the door and holds it open for me. “You have anywhere else in mind you’d like to go?”
I walk up to him, standing very close, wedging myself between the car and his body. He goes still, and I’m pretty sure it’s affecting him as much as it is me. I want him to kiss me. I want him to want me.
Why do I want the things I can’t have?
With a stroke of bold and fierce energy, I reach up and press my palm flat against his chest. He looks down at it and then at me.
“Listen, Zoey, I need to tell you something.”
I keep my hand right there on his chest, feeling his heart pound beneath my touch. “What is it?”
He frowns, then brushes my hair behind one ear. His fingers are rough and calloused. “I saw that sexy photo of you in the pink bra.”
My blood runs cold. “How the hell did you see that?”
“Your boy sent it around to his friends and one of them sent it to me.”
My breath comes out in short bursts as I think about that stupid picture and how revealing it was. “He promised he wouldn’t show anyone,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
“I’m sorry, Zoey. But you need to know that Kris can’t be trusted. Not with photos, not with your body. I wasn’t just being a jealous dick when I told you to stay away from him. He really is bad news. He is the epitome of the guys parents warn their daughters about.”
I sigh. Ange
r floods through me, filling my fingertips with the urge to rip his head off. Not because I hate him—which I do—but because now I hate Kris.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Warm hands grab my hips and gently pull me close, then Jonah wraps his arms around me in a hug. I rest my cheek on his chest, my hands holding onto his shoulders.
“Thanks for telling me,” I whisper against his chest. “I’m going to kill him.”
He chuckles and pulls away to look at me. “That’s my girl. Violence against guys like that is always the answer.”
I can’t help myself. I kiss him. He freezes at first, but I don’t care. I hold the kiss until he sighs, and then I kiss his chin and his neck. When I get to his collarbone, he melts into me, grabbing my face in his hands and pressing his lips against mine. His tongue is warm as it flicks across my bottom lip. His breath tastes like Cherry Coke and I can’t get enough. I lean back against the car while he kisses me, his body just an inch away from mine, sending electric sparks through my stomach. I want more. I need more.
I reach down and put my hand over his crotch, which is swelling up with each second that passes. He jumps back, his elbow knocking into the car door. “You can’t do that,” he says, panting. “Not now.” He grabs my arms in his hands and squeezes. “Holy shit, you’re going to be the death of me.”
“Why don’t you want me to?” I say, puckering my lips into a pout. That was supposed to be my secret weapon to win him over.
He groans, and then he leans down and places a soft kiss over my pouted lips. “Because.”
I let out a huff of breath. Kris seems to be happy with my hand jobs. If only Jonah would let me…then maybe he’d like me. I press my hands to his chest and shove him away farther. “What is this, Jonah? Why do we keep kissing each other only to have you pull away? We’re not friends, we’re not dating.” I throw my hands up in the air as exhaustion overtakes me. “What is this? What are we?”
“I’ll tell you what we are,” Jonah says slowly, his tongue running across his bottom lip. “You’re a girl who is way out of my league, and I’m a guy who’s doing his fucking hardest to keep himself under control.”
Chapter 21
I grit my teeth. “That is bullshit and you know it.”
In the distance, birds chirp and chase each other from tree to tree. A few cars are in the parking lot, but it’s mostly empty. Most people chose to go anywhere but the museum today. Jonah rubs his palm across his forehead.
“Zoey, I don’t want you to be mad at me.”
“I don’t care what you want. You don’t realize that I’ve had this massive crush on you since that first day we met in the library?” I sigh as exhaustion takes over. I’m vaguely aware that I should be embarrassed saying things like this, but I’ve changed so much lately, I don’t even know who I am anymore. Maybe the new me can say shit like this. It has to be better than keeping it in.
Jonah watches me intently, a muscle twitching in his jaw.
“I’m not an idiot, Jonah. If you don’t like me, just say it. Put me out of my misery so I can move on. But don’t make up stupid lies about me being out of your league because even I’m not stupid enough to believe that.”
“Zoey…” Jonah steps backward, then grabs his hair in his hands. I follow him, closing the car door behind me. He walks over to a bench between two trees and sits down, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.
“Zoey… I like you too.”
The words stop me dead in my tracks. I bite my lip and look down at him as he brings his gaze to mine. “But I won’t kid myself into thinking I’m right for you.”
I roll my eyes and sit next to him. “That’s stupid. I’m nothing special, and I like you, too. I don’t see why we can’t just like—date.”
This isn’t exactly how I pictured getting my first boyfriend. I’d expected it to be romantic, sweet, and definitely initiated by the guy.
Jonah puts a hand on my arm. I turn it over, hoping he’ll slide his fingers down and into mine, but he doesn’t. He sighs. “My mom was a nice girl too, until she met my dad. He ruined her life. He was a loser like me. He moved her out of a nice neighborhood and into the ghetto, and we’ve been there ever since. Mom dropped out of high school for my dad and he ended up completely screwing us over when he died.”
“Jonah, we’re not getting married and moving to the ghetto,” I say with a laugh. “We’re in high school.”
He shrugs. “Graduation is in a few weeks. You’re going to go to some great college and have some great life, and I can’t be here holding you back.”
I shake my head. “For your information, I haven’t even gotten into college yet, and I have no idea what I’m studying. You’re overthinking this.”
He shakes his head. “I wish you saw how special you are. You could date anyone you want, and you’re wasting it on douchebags like Kris and losers like me.”
I don’t even know what’s going through my mind when I get this crazy idea. “Maybe we could be friends?”
He grins. “That would be cool.”
I give him a warning look. “I’m not going to stop liking you.”
He shrugs. “I won’t stop liking you. But you should definitely date other people.” He pokes me in the arm. “It’ll help you get over me and then your life will be like fifty times better.”
“Oh please,” I say with an eye roll. “We’ve already discovered that no guy wants to date me. They just want favors in their car.”
He stares at the ground.
Finally, I break the moment by talking. “You want to eat lunch with me and Dana tomorrow? She’s cooking something and bringing the leftovers to school.”
“Yeah—wait, no I can’t on Monday,” he says, frowning. “I have a thing. Maybe another day?”
“Sure,” I say, trying not to feel like he’s blowing me off and trying to be nice about it. “So, we’re friends?”
He nods. “Friends.”
***
All day Monday my heart does this little pitter patter thing like there’s a hummingbird inside of it. I know Jonah and I said we’d be just friends, but he also admitted to liking me. Now I just have to convince him that we can be good together.
I look for him in the hallways, but I have no idea what his first two classes are. Dana and I eat lunch together outside. She made carnitas and they are freaking good, even after spending the morning in her thermal lunch kit.
By Tuesday, I’ve been so preoccupied thinking about Jonah that I’ve almost forgotten how pissed I am at Kris. It completely slipped my mind that he wasn’t at school yesterday, but now he is, and he’s sitting in his chair across the room from me in sign language class, giving me this smirky grin.
Mrs. Abbey has us partner off and begin signing a song from the 90s. I rush over to Dana’s chair and partner up with her before Kris can do anything stupid like try to make me his partner. That doesn’t stop him from sauntering over anyhow.
He slides into the empty desk behind mine. Dana gives me this questioning look. “Just ignore him,” I whisper to her.
A few seconds pass and Kris taps me on the shoulder. I ignore him.
He does it again, this time pulling my hair like a freaking child.
I whip around and glare at him. “Go away.”
He wrinkles his face and pokes out his bottom lip. “Oh, come on. What’s wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with me?” I hiss, grateful that everyone is paired off and playing songs on their cell phones so the room is too loud to be overheard. “I know you sent my picture to all your dickhead friends.”
Kris looks taken aback. “What are you talking about?”
I lean forward, pressing my palms flat on his desk top. “The bra picture. I know your friends have it and they sent it around to God knows how many people. So fuck off.”
I turn back around and he grabs my arm. “Zoey, chill. I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I didn’t do it.”
I purse my lip
s. “So that picture magically jumped out of your phone and sent itself to all your guy friends?”
He sighs. I hate that his disappointment is making me feel bad. Like I should be the one apologizing. “Fuck, Zoey. Maybe one of the guys looked on my phone when I wasn’t paying attention. Why do you have to think I’m lying to you?”
I grit my teeth.
“Zoey, let’s get to work,” Dana says.
I turn back around. “Sorry,” I say, giving her an apologetic smile. I’m not sure what she thinks about me and Kris, but now isn’t the time to ask her.
Kris leans forward, brushing my hair to the side so he can whisper in my ear. “Lunch today?”
“I’m eating with Dana,” I say. “You’re welcome to join us.”
“Pulled pork and avocado tacos,” she says with a nod. “They’re freaking amazing.”
“Ah, maybe,” Kris says. He squeezes my shoulder as he walks away, joining his friend on the other side of the room.
When the bell rings, I tell Dana I’ll meet her at our usual spot in the cafeteria, and then I rush off to catch Kris in the hallways.
“Hey,” I say, nudging him in the elbow.
“What’s up?”
“Lunch?” I ask, peering up at him with a grin.
“Sure, Jack?”
“No, Dana brought lunch, remember?”
“Ah, sorry. I can’t.”
I frown. “Why not?”
“Just uh, I got some stuff I forgot about.”
I heave a sigh as we duck through the crowds of hungry students. “Kris, what are we?”
He nods at some guys who call out his name from the other side of the hall. “What do you mean?”
“Well, are we dating?”
He groans. “Not this again, Zoey. Come on. We’re having fun.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
He draws in a deep breath, and almost looks pissed for just a second. Then he looks both ways and pulls me around the corner and out a set of double doors that lead to an empty field behind the school. I didn’t even realize they were unlocked.