You’re the best Maddy.
I know. :)
Alex and Mica’s texts battle for my attention. As much as I want to write Mica right away, I kind of want to save him for last.
Alex: So I hear. :)
He told you?
Wait, what are you talking about?
Heat rushes through me. I take a breath. This is Alex. Not the Snow Bunnies. She isn’t trying to manipulate anything out of me—she’s replying to the cryptic text I sent. lol. Riding with Mica yesterday.
Haha, you’re welcome.
And….
Yes?
He asked me out.
HIGHKICK!
I burst out laughing. That was pretty much my reaction.
That’s awesome! I wasn’t 100% sure you were interested. I’m glad I pushed him.
Me too.
And now for the main attraction. I switch to Mica’s text.
That’s awesome! What bracket?
Not the baby bracket!
lol, you know about that?
My friend Hannah filled me in. She convinced me to enter.
I’m hurt.
???
I thought I convinced you.
You helped. But it’s not like we’ll be riding together anyway.
Nah, but the ride’s just part of the fun.
I can’t wait. :)
So did you use my answer?
Ha! I did. It wasn’t exactly what she wanted, but it worked.
That’s what she said.
I slap my hand over my mouth. LOL.
Glad I could help.
We chat about school and the upcoming ski season while I finish my homework. When we finally say goodnight it’s an hour past my usual bedtime and I’m struggling to keep my eyes open. I turn off the light and my head’s sinking into the pillow when another text comes through. I smile into the darkness and reach for the phone, my heart pounding, but it stills the moment I see who it’s from.
Kenzie.
Consider this your only warning to stay away from Bri.
The temperature drops overnight and even though it’s barely October, it feels like winter is just around the corner. Strong winds shake loose leaves that have barely begun to turn colors, and a thin layer of frost covers my windshield, matching my mood. “What happened to fall?” I mutter to no one as I start the Bronco. I didn’t reply to Kenzie last night—I wouldn’t know what to say if I did—and I’m pissed that she ruined my good mood.
A gloom seems to have settled over the school. The normally constant chatter is muted by thick sweaters and knit hats, and everyone seems to be hunched inside themselves to stay warm. Even the teachers are affected. Mr. G. is borderline cranky in homeroom, snapping at two kids who always talk in the back row. Hannah and I raise our eyebrows at each other and silently do our homework. In History, Mr. Ray stands at the front of the room as we enter, his arms crossed over his chest, instead of sitting at his desk like normal. Kenzie glares at me as she enters—without Brianna again—but I’m so used to ignoring her it barely phases me.
Barely.
I’d love to know what prompted her to try to scare me after midnight, but not replying and knowing she’s dying to get a response brings far more satisfaction than getting into an argument with her.
Brianna hustles through the door as the bell rings and I try to picture her keying Austin’s car. She usually made her underlings do her dirty work, but if she was pissed off enough—like after losing the Homecoming crown—I could see her taking her anger out on him.
Mr. Ray closes the door and picks up a stack of papers from his desk. “Pop quiz.”
The class groans.
“Place everything under your seats. If you’re caught up on your reading, this won’t be a problem.” He hands copies to the person at the beginning of each row and my stomach sinks as they get closer. I’ve done the reading—if you count skimming the assigned chapters in between flirting with Mica. He won’t tell me where we’re going Friday but I’ve learned he has two younger sisters, his parents are divorced, and he loves pretty much any sport outside—including rock climbing, which explains his strong arms and has me wondering what those hands would feel like on my skin.
But that won’t help me now.
I shake him from my head and concentrate on the quiz, and am surprised that the answers come easily. Maybe the quiz isn’t that hard, but this is the first time in forever that I’m not sweating over the answers. Or maybe Mom and Dad’s stupid studying before playing rule is paying off.
When I finish, I turn the paper over and let my thoughts wander to Friday. I’ve only been on one other first date and that was freshman year with Evan. He asked me out in the spring just as ski season was ending, and my mom drove us to the movies and picked us up half an hour after it ended. I was nervous, sure, but having a parent in the car took away any awkwardness because we both silently agreed not to talk until she dropped us off. But Mica is picking me up and unlike then-fourteen-year old Evan, Mica is practically a man.
And we’ll be completely alone.
The bell startles me out of my thoughts and I grab my phone as I head to the hallway. I text Cally. I’m gonna need help with an outfit for Friday. And maybe some advice on not freaking out before then.
Brianna’s already at her seat when I get to Miss Simpson’s class. I tilt my head, unsure how she passed me in the hall without me noticing. She watches me as I take my seat, and curiosity gets the better of me.
“How’d you do on the quiz?” I ask.
She shrugs. If she’s surprised I’m talking to her, she doesn’t show it. “Not my best performance.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
She shrugs again and flicks her hair over her shoulder in a well-practiced move, but it doesn’t have the same effect because her hair is limp, like she hasn’t washed it in a couple days. Her makeup does little to cover the dark circles under her eyes, and if I didn’t know better, I’d swear she’s not wearing any perfume. “I’ve got bigger things to worry about than a stupid History quiz.”
Questions form on the tip of my tongue—Why is Kenzie warning me away from you? Did you key Austin’s car? Are you okay?—but I swallow them. Instead the most inane statement ever pops out of my mouth. “They say it might snow this week.”
She quirks an eyebrow at me and I’m almost relieved to see a hint of the bitchy Brianna. “Are you seriously talking about the weather right now?”
This time I shrug. “I’m just saying.”
She rolls her eyes. “Colorado weather.” But the corner of her mouth lifts in a smile.
“Guess that means it’s almost ski season.” I expect her smile to grow, but it turns into a frown. She lives for ski season. Gloating about all the fabulous places she visits is her favorite pastime aside from actually skiing.
“I’m not sure if I’ll get out this year.”
My jaw falls so far open I’m worried it’ll hit my desk. Bitch or not, something isn’t right. I lower my voice. “Is—is everything okay?”
She faces me, a mixture of sadness and anger turning her face a blotchy red. “Do you really want to know?”
I start to say yes but the door closes a little louder than normal and Miss Simpson starts her lecture. Brianna turns away from me, her face a stony mask. Whatever moment we had is gone.
*****
“Jeans and boots, definitely.” Cally’s sitting on the floor of my closet with a different boot in each hand. “The question is, knee-high or bootie?”
I throw a balled up sock at her. “Since when do you know the difference?” Cally is gorgeous and friendly and the best friend I’ve ever had, but the fashion bug definitely skipped her.
“Sophia’s been sending me tutorials. She says just because I have a boyfriend doesn’t mean I can slack off.” She picks at her holey sweater, which she lovingly calls Old Faithful. “I still don’t get what’s wrong with this.”
I laugh. “If Blake’s seen you in that thing and still loves you, he’s a keeper.”
I scoot closer on the floor. “Is sweet, innocent Cally trying to tell me something?”
She leans forward so her hair falls in her face. “Not THAT.” She peeks at me through her hair. “Yet. But close.”
“That’s awesome, Cal. I kinda guessed after the way you two were all over each other at Homecoming, but I wasn’t sure if I should ask.” Brianna always told me things whether I wanted to hear them or not so asking wasn’t necessary.
Her face grows serious. “You can ask. You’re my best friend.”
The old Mike would be watching for a tick in her eye or some other tell that she was trying to manipulate me, but Cally’s face is open and trusting. “That means a lot to me, you know that?”
She snorts. “That I’m giving you permission to ask if I’m having sex?”
“Ha! No, but that, too.” I run my fingers over a discarded shirt on the floor. “I mean that you consider us best friends. I know I’m not always the easiest person to be friends with…” I trail off.
“What makes you say that? You’re loyal, funny, and you’ll try anything if I push you hard enough—what more could a girl want?” She tilts her head and gives me a sly look. “You know, those are all things that should help you on a first date, too.”
I burst out laughing and throw the shirt at her. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
She holds up the shirt, inspecting it, and I shake my head. “So you really like him?”
I reach into my drawer for another shirt and pull out a super soft light blue sweater. “This might be a winner.”
“That looks great with your eyes.”
“Ripped jeans or dark skinnies?”
She holds up her hands like I’ve asked her to solve the question of the universe. “Ripped?”
“Then low booties.”
She laughs. “Perfect. Now answer my question.”
I bite the corner of my lip. “If we’re basing it on how much I think about him, then yeah, I definitely like him. Physically he’s fricking amazing—”
“I may or may not have noticed that when we were riding.”
“Are you excited for tomorrow?”
She rubs her hands together. “I’m a little more nervous than usual. Aside from the Dash last spring, I haven’t competed in almost a year.”
“You’ll kick ass.”
She smiles. “Thanks.”
I pull the sweater on over my tank top. It’s fitted enough to show my sort-of curves and feels like it’s made from clouds. Or puppy fur. I run my hands over my arms. “I can’t stop touching myself.”
She quirks an eyebrow. “Maybe save that for after the date?”
“Shut it. Although this could work in my favor.” I grab my ripped jeans from another drawer and wrestle into them. “What I like most about Mica is that he treats me like his equal. Evan was always babying me and acting like I couldn’t do anything for myself, but Mica assumes I can handle myself.”
“Do you think Evan knows you have a date?”
“I’ve told you and Hannah, so no. We don’t really talk in class unless we have a lab assignment, and this isn’t something I plan to broadcast.”
She nods. “You might change your mind after tonight.”
I stick my tongue out at her.
“That could help, too.”
I swat her arm and we burst out laughing.
She stays while I get ready, and when Mica texts that he’s on his way, she hugs me goodbye and heads home. I putter around my room, fussing with my hair every time I walk by the mirror, and finally sit on the bed and scroll through my feed on my phone. But my classmates’ antics can’t hold my attention. I text Cally Thanks! Good luck tomorrow! and resume pacing until I hear a car in the driveway, then grab my jacket and purse and run down the stairs.
The doorbell rings before I can get to it, and Dad hurries around the corner. “Oh, no you don’t.” His voice is light and a smile dances on his lips. “We want to meet him.”
I’m tempted to fling open the door and sprint outside, but they’ve been so understanding lately that they deserve something from me in return. He opens the door and a swirl of cold air greets us. Mica’s standing on the porch, hands shoved in his pockets. I’ve never seen him in anything but shorts and a t-shirt, and I must say, he cleans up nice. The sleeves of his flannel are rolled, showing off his arms, and the cuffs of his dark jeans rest on sleek tennis shoes. He must be thinking the same thing about me because his slow smile sends my heart racing while his gaze travels up and down my body.
Fortunately all of this takes less than a second, or Dad might not let me leave. Dad steps forward, hand extended. “You must be Mica. I’m Robert.”
They shake hands and Dad tugs him through the door. I touch his arm and smile up at him. “Hi.”
He smiles again. “Hi, yourself.” He seems taller without our bikes between us.
Dad leads us to the kitchen, where Mom is sitting at the island.
“Hi, Mrs. Westin. I’m Mica.” He holds out a hand for her and she practically purrs.
“Lynn, please.”
He nods, then faces me and Mom gives me an approving look over his shoulder. It’s not that Evan was ever rude or didn’t talk to them—his manners were always perfect—but Mica carries himself in a way that Evan never could. A calm confidence oozes from him, like nothing rattles him or makes him doubt who he is.
I need to learn how to channel that.
“Where are you headed?” Mom asks.
“Dinner,” Mica says. “But it’s a surprise.” He winks at me and Mom gives me another smile. He’s good.
They ask him where he goes to school and are starting in on his college plans when I cut them off.
“Okay, that’s enough for now.” I grab Mica’s elbow and steer him out of the kitchen.
“Be home by eleven,” Mom calls after us.
“They’re nice,” Mica says. “I see where you get it from.”
I couldn’t tell you the last time someone compared me to my parents as a compliment, but they were nice. They acted exactly like I hoped they would. Maybe there’s hope for them yet. “They would have grilled you for the next hour if I let them.”
We step outside and he slips his hand into mine. “Maybe next time.”
So he’s already thinking about another date!
Our fingers wind together and all thoughts of my parents fade away. The door of the Cherokee squeaks a little as he opens the door for me, still holding my hand, and there’s the briefest pause where we’re just looking at each other and I think it wouldn’t be the worst thing to start our date with a kiss. He lifts his free hand and brushes a piece of hair off my cheek, his eyes on mine, and my heart’s beating so hard I’m sure he can hear it.
I wet my lips and his eyes flick to my mouth. His fingertips trail down my neck, but he lets his hand fall back to his side.
“I hope you like the restaurant.”
I smile up at him as I get in the car, hoping he can’t tell how much he’s affecting me with just a simple touch. “When do I find out where we’re going?”
“Ten minutes.”
“So downtown.”
The corner of his mouth lifts in a smile as he starts the engine. “Yes, but there are many restaurants in downtown Boulder.” He backs out of the driveway, but stops in the street. Alarm creases his face. “You do like sea lion, right?”
My jaw drops and he bursts out laughing.
“Kidding.”
I smack his arm with the back of my hand. “What if I’d said yes?”
He puts it in drive and focuses on the road. “Then we’d have to drive a lot farther than ten minutes.”
We fall into a comfortable silence as we approach downtown Boulder. A gust of wind whips across the road, making the car shudder. I peer through the windshield at the starless sky. “Think it’s going to snow?”
He glances up. “Seems early, but you never know.” A couple minutes later we park in a public lot that gives me zero clues as to where we’re going.
“You put a lot of thought into this,” I tease.
He waggles his brows at me and hops out of the car. He hurries around the front but I open my door and get out before he can get there. “Ready?” he asks. I nod, and he grabs my hand again. We make our way to the main stretch of downtown and he stops me, a serious look on his face. “So that was a no to the sea lion, right?”
“No to the sea lion.”
“Got it.”
We walk hand in hand along the sidewalk, light from the shops and restaurants promising warmth and protection from the blustery evening. His hand is warm in mine and I could stay in this moment forever. He finally stops in front of a restaurant with cured meats and cheeses displayed in the window and smiles at me.
“Tapas?” I ask.
“Have you been here?”
I shake my head and he looks worried, but I quickly smile. “I’ve wanted to try it forever. E—” I stop. He doesn’t need to know that Evan preferred pasta and pizza so would never go anywhere he considered exotic. “Excellent choice.”
His face relaxes and we head inside.
Once we’re seated, he holds up his menu. “It’s all small plates, so the idea is you share.” An image of him feeding me flashes through my mind and I shake it off. That’s not what he means. “I’ve tried almost everything, so we’ll start with a few and keep ordering if we’re still hungry.”
I study the menu. The combinations are stranger than what I’m used to eating, but once I get over that, I realize most of the dishes are either meat or vegetarian—like any other restaurant—they’re just cooked differently. “How many do we start with?”
“Four or five. Does anything sound good?” For the first time since we’ve met, he sounds uncertain.
I smile. “All of it.”
A bubbly server arrives to take our order, and Mica has me choose.
“Are you sure?”
He nods. “I’m telling you. I love it all.”
I pick three meats and two veggies, and the server bounces off to the kitchen. I expect more banter about the food, but he dives right into Getting to Know Mike.
The Trail Rules (The Rules Series Book 2) Page 19