by Amy Sparling
“Ah, well that makes sense,” Ms. Cleary says. “I’m glad you were able to get that worked out and I am so, so sorry for your loss, dear.”
Ella picks up her painting. “It’s okay.”
Ms. Cleary turns her question on me while Ella takes the painting over to a long shelf for drying artwork. “So how’s the T-shirt business?”
My phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out an inch to see the name on the screen. Kennedy. I drop the phone back in my pocket. “It’s going pretty well,” I say. “I made a few new designs this week that I’ll upload tonight.”
“I’d say it’s going a lot better than pretty well,” Ms. Cleary says, waving her hands around. “At least half of my class is wearing one of your designs every single day. You’ll be paying for college in no time.”
I nod. From the other side of the room, Ella’s eyebrow is raised. I shift on my feet, knowing she’s listening to everything I say and for some reason I want her to keep looking so impressed. “Yeah, I’m pretty much there,” I say, straightening my shoulders. “I’ve got state college paid for, at least. I’m not making Harvard money, but it’s not like I’ll be applying there anyway.”
Ms. Cleary laughs. “Harvard is overrated. State college is all you really need these days.”
Ella appears at my side, her hot pink backpack slung over one shoulder. “Ready?”
I nod and we say goodbye to Ms. Cleary, quickly falling into step with each other as we walk out to the now nearly empty parking lot.
“So I think we’ll have to rethink our escape plan,” I say, digging in my pocket for my keys. “Kennedy cornered me outside of the locker room just now.”
My phone goes off again, and once again, Kennedy’s name flashes across the screen. I deleted her picture days ago so at least I don’t have to see it when she’s blowing up my phone. “I’m going to have to block her number,” I mutter.
Ella’s looking up at me as we walk. She’s so short and cute I want to rest my elbow on top of her head but I’m sure she’ll kick my ass for it. “So, you didn’t tell me what she said,” Ella says, kicking at a pebble on the concrete.
“She wanted to bitch at me for not answering her millions of texts and calls,” I say, pointing to one finger. I point to the next one. “And then she wanted to berate me about prom some more.”
“So you’re broken up but you’re still going to prom together,” Ella says, shaking her head. “And I can’t even get a date at all. You popular people have all the luck.”
We reach my truck and I’ve absentmindedly walked over to the passenger side with her. I open the door for her and watch her climb inside. “I’m not going to prom with Kennedy. She may think I will, but it won’t happen.”
She makes this mock look of surprise. “But then what will happen to the royal couple? You can’t show up with separate dates and get crowned together, that’s a prom blasphemy.”
I stand in front of her, the door still open. I should probably close it and get in on my side, but she smells like the flowers and I’m much closer to her here than I would be behind the steering wheel.
“Maybe I won’t win,” I say.
She snorts. “I’m not voting for you.”
Her grin matches mine and I close the freaking truck door because if I don’t, I’ll lean in and kiss her again. I just won this girl’s friendship back and even my dumbass knows it wouldn’t be smart to push the limits right now.
Ella flips channels on the radio while we drive home. It’s such a dumb thing, but I love that she feels comfortable enough to mess with my radio without asking. The first couple of days of riding to school were awkward, but now we have a routine and it’s finally comfortable.
“Fries?” I say when we roll up on the McDonald’s.
“Do you even have to ask?” She gives me that grin that makes my knees weak.
Splitting a large order of fries on the drive home is just as important of a routine as our morning donut stop. It’s our way of enjoying good food before getting home to where my mom has cooked some healthy paleo/keto meal or whatever type of diet the internet has convinced her to try out this week. Mom’s cooking is good, but when you never know how many tons of baked vegetables you’ll have to eat each day, it’s nice to enjoy a bucket of hot fried potatoes.
I look over at her while we pull out of the drive thru line. “Do you have any plans tonight?”
She shakes her head. “April has to babysit and I’m kind of over being around her little brothers, so no.”
“I don’t have plans either.” My heart speeds up. The question was so simple when I thought of it a moment ago but now getting the words out is proving to be as hard as mentally calculating quantum physics.
“We should hang out,” I say all in one quick breath. “Rent a movie or something.”
She reaches for a fry. “Sure, sounds fun.”
Those three words send fireworks shooting through my chest. After a week of football practice, dodging Kennedy’s calls, and trying to pretend the most amazing girl in the world isn’t sleeping in the next room over, Ella’s simple agreement to watch a movie feels like an epic advancement in our friendship.
Not that I’m trying to do things to propel us back into the make out zone or anything—but if it happens to lead there, I’ll be more than happy to grab the opportunity and hold on tight.
Chapter 16
I give Ethan a serious look. “Okay, we have a problem.”
He stops at the stop sign by the playground in our neighborhood and looks over at me. “What is it?”
I almost giggle because the seriousness in his eyes says he’s actually concerned. I hold up the carton of fries, keeping my expression hard.
“There’s only one fry left,” I say with a deep sorrow in my voice. “I think we’ll have to fight each other for it.”
He smirks and lets off the brake, steering us toward his house. “Should we suit up and make a wrestling ring in the back yard? Or just duel it out in the driveway?”
“Oh, Ethan you adorable idiot,” I say lightly as I hold the fry carton in the air like it’s a prized trophy. “We can’t duel over the fry at your house. Your mom will totally find out and then bust us for eating food from the dark side.
He slows down as he maneuvers around cars parked on the side of the road. “Looks like the showdown begins now.” His elbows lift and he leans down, giving me a fake evil glare.
“Looks like I have the advantage since I’m holding the fry cup,” I say, poking my nose in the air.
He rolls down his window and my eyes narrow. “What are you doing? There’s no fries outside.”
In a flash, he grabs the carton from me and holds it out of the window. “Now there is,” he says with a smile that makes a shiver run up my spine.
I grab for his right arm, which is on the steering wheel while the other arm taunts me with the last fry out of the window.
“You are pure evil, Ethan Poe.”
He throws his head back and laughs maniacally.
“Look what you did,” I say, folding my arms across my chest. “We’re at your house now. That fry is officially contraband. Your mom likes me more,” I say, reaching over his lap and grabbing for his arm. He’s strong enough that I’m not getting anywhere, despite my efforts. “You should let me take it because she won’t get as mad at me.”
He shakes his head and leans to the right to let the fry slip further from my grasp. I’m practically crawling into his lap now, one hand on his knee and the other one grabbing for the container. “Why-are-your-arms-so-long?” I grunt out as I struggle to overpower him.
“Looks like I’m the winner,” he says. No, whispers. His lips are just inches from my ear and I pull back slightly, still hovering all over his side of the truck.
Butterflies freak out in my stomach and now there’s no way I could eat that fry even if I wanted to. I watch his eyes trail down to my lips and back up. We have to be thinking the same thing. Dangerous thoughts will only get me
hurt again, so I sigh and lean back into the middle of the bench seat.
“I have an idea,” I say, taking a deep breath to calm my raging desire to kiss him. “Let’s split it.”
His head tilts to the side. “Diplomatic. I like it.”
He gives me the fry and I break it in half. Now it’s all cold and covered in too much salt from the bottom of the container but I give him his half and he eats it, so I eat mine too.
“Truce,” he says.
“Truce.”
We watch each other for a long moment—or maybe it’s just a few seconds. I can’t tell because my head is spinning. Finally, alarms go off in my head telling me to snap out of it and go inside. I turn and slide back to my side of the truck, my hand reaching for the door handle.
And then I yelp in surprise. Kennedy stands right on the other side of the door, her eyes blazing with a fury only she could manifest.
“What the—” Ethan says just before his door pops open. I watch him walk around the front of his truck. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asks her.
She shoves him in the chest with the palms of her hands. It’s not playful, either. He steps back a little and she comes at him again, arms swinging.
“You’re a liar! You said you weren’t going to hook up with her, you freaking liar!”
Ethan grabs Kennedy’s wrists to stop her from attacking him. “You need to calm down. You can’t come to my own house at yell at me.”
“I’ll do whatever I want!” she shrieks. Then she whirls around and invisible daggers pelt into me. I shrivel against the back of my seat.
Kennedy walks over and slams her hand against the window. “Get out here and face me,” she hisses. “You want to ruin my relationship? Get out here and tell me why.”
“Ella, stay inside,” Ethan says, holding up a hand to me. “Kennedy, get back in your car and leave. You’re being completely ridiculous.”
“You’re the one who lied to me,” she says, daring to cover her snarl with a sad little pout. I almost feel sorry for her, that’s how good she is. Then she tries to punch him again but he blocks it with his palm. “I can’t believe you left me for her.”
Ethan shakes his head. “I broke up with you because we’re not compatible. It has nothing to do with Ella. And you should listen to me this time because I’m sick of explaining it to you.”
Kennedy puts a hand on her hip. The stale taste of fries in my mouth makes me nauseous. Part of me thinks I might never get out of this truck, that Kennedy will keep circling around me like a shark waiting to devour its prey.
She puts her hands on her hips. “Promise me you won’t start dating her.”
Ethan laughs. Like, actually laughs, not just that smirky thing he always does. “I’m not promising you anything. Seriously, I meant it when I said we could stay friends but this is just insane.”
“Something is seriously wrong with you,” Kennedy says, straightening her shoulders. “Her over me? Really, Ethan? I made you prom king. You’d still be just a dumb jock if it wasn’t for me. How can you just throw that away for some loser?”
Ethan draws in a breath, looking up to the sky for a second. Behind us, dump trucks park on what used to be my house, the cleanup crew done for the day. He glances to me, who is still sitting in the truck like the loser that I am and then he points to the road. “You need to leave. The fact that you thought we were dating to elevate my social status says we’ll never be on the same page. Life isn’t some kind of popularity game to me, Kennedy. That’s why we broke up. You need to leave. And find a new date for prom.”
Kennedy’s fists shake at her sides. She turns toward me. “I hope you’re happy.”
I step out of the truck with fear nipping at my ankles. I know what the after school TV movies would say: Kennedy is a bully and bullies don’t get far in life. Shrug them off and go on with your life.
But I can’t shrug her off. Something visceral inside of me awakens, and all it wants to do is rip her head off and cry out in victory.
“How dare you try to steal my boyfriend,” Kennedy says, flipping her hair over her shoulder. She’s taller than I am, and maybe even stronger thanks to cheerleading. But I grab onto the beast inside of me, the tiny little piece of self-esteem that’s been hiding way too long.
This is wrong, and probably not in the spirit of an after-school-special movie, but it’s going to feel great.
I saunter over to Ethan and slide my hands up his chest, linking them behind his neck. His eyes startle, their darkness showing something surprised and elated at the same time.
I lean up on my toes and kiss him on the cheek. “You’re right, Kennedy. I did steal your boyfriend. But don’t act like it was hard or anything,” I say, mocking her stupid flirty pout expression. “You made it so easy I didn’t even have to try.”
The look on Kennedy’s face is pure gold. Pure, uncontrolled satisfaction floods through my veins, making me feel like freaking Cleopatra in all of her glory. I’m so high on throwing a bitch move right back at the Head of Bitches herself, that I barely notice when Ethan slides his hand around my waist and pulls me against his chest in an act of solidarity.
Kennedy glares at Ethan. “Don’t ever call me insane again,” she hisses. She points at the two of us. “I called this. I’m not some kind of crazy ex-girlfriend, Ethan. I knew it would happen and I called it. Kiss your popularity goodbye. I’ll have the entire school against you by tomorrow.”
I heave a heavy, dramatic sigh. “You should probably go before we start making out.”
Anger flashes behind her eyes and then she launches toward me, her fist aiming straight for my face.
Ethan holds me back but I twist out of his grip. I’m not about to let her hit me, but I also won’t hit the princess back. God only knows what drama that would cause. As if seeing it all in slow motion, I grab her fist before it collides with my face. Stepping backward, I pull her down, using her own momentum to throw her straight to the concrete.
I jump back as she hits the ground and she lets out a flurry of curse words.
The high-pitched tapping of Mrs. Poe’s heels on the sidewalk catch my attention. She’s holding her cell phone.
“Kennedy, dear, you need to leave. Otherwise I’ll have the police escort you back home.”
Kennedy scrambles to her feet, brushing her hands on her jeans. “Did you see what she did to me?”
Mrs. Poe nods. “I saw Ella act in self-defense. Now leave please. You’re no longer welcome at my home.”
The fiasco ends as quickly as it began, but I think Ethan and I both know this won’t be the end of dealing with her.
“I’m so sorry about that,” I tell Mrs. Poe as we follow her inside. My stomach flips over as I wonder about what exactly she saw. Did she see me kiss her son? See my arms around him, taunting his ex? Oh god. This is mortifying.
“Don’t worry about it, Ella.” Mrs. Poe gives us a side-eyed grin as she sets her phone on an end table near the couch. “I’ve been waiting for someone to put that girl in her place. She never had any manners over here.”
Ethan grabs my hand and pulls me into the privacy of the stairs, walking halfway up them until we’re hidden by the walls. He’s breathing quickly, his eyes bursting with excitement.
“That was so freaking hot,” he whispers. “I will forever be happy when I picture you putting her in her place.” His hands grab my hips and he takes a step down until we’re eye-to-eye. My body is on fire where he touches me, and the knot in my stomach turns into a nervous flutter that I never want to lose. He drops his forehead to mine. “Was that just an act?”
I shrug. “Well . . . yeah.”
His shoulders fall and his grip on me loosens. I press forward, leaning into him until his back is against the wall. My fingers crawl up his chest and I grin. “But it was fun pretending,” I whisper.
“You’re killing me,” he says, his voice breathy.
“Kids, do ya’ll want pizza for dinner?” Mrs. Poe’s voice makes us r
ocket away from each other as if we’d both just become infectious. “Yeah,” Ethan croaks. “Yeah, we like pizza.”
My eyes crinkle as I hold back laughter. “This is going to be fun,” I tell him. Then I turn and jog up the stairs, leaving him soaking in all of that sexual tension we’d left behind.
Chapter 17
I meet Ella’s eyes across the dinner table. The look on her face—polite yet a little disturbed—makes me grin. We should have known better than to think that Mom meant real pizza when she asked if we wanted pizza for dinner.
“This is really great,” Mrs. Lockhart says, taking a bite of Mom’s homemade health food. It is round, with vegan cheese and something resembling a crust, but it’s not pizza. You can’t call this pizza, no matter how you dress it up.
“Thanks, Samantha,” Mom says, looking positively smitten with the compliment. “It’s cauliflower crust, but it tastes amazing, right?”
I sputter, holding the mouthful of fake pizza in my mouth. “Cauliflower?” I mumble with my mouth full. Ella giggles.
Mom waves a hand at me. “Just eat it. Your sister’s not complaining and neither is Ella.”
“I think it’s awesome,” Ella says, completely sucking up to my mother. She’s gone rogue, I see.
“You’re supposed to be on my side,” I say, sticking out my tongue.
Her cheeks flush and she rolls her eyes.
I’m the only man at the table tonight. Dad is taking an international conference call in his home office and Ella’s dad is working a forty-eight-hour shift at the station. So it’s just me, Mom and Dakota with Ella and her mom at the dinner table.
Ella taps my foot under the table. “I am on your side, you dork. It’s still good pizza.”
Mrs. Lockhart peers at me over the rim of her wine glass. “Is there something going on with you two?”
Ella chokes on the fake pizza. “God, Mom. No.”
My own mom makes that grin like when she’s talking about our birthday presents in a sneaky way so we won’t find out what they are. “You just got home, so you haven’t even heard about the drama yet,” Mom tells her.