Charisma by Jeanne Ryan Page A

like cocaine?”
    I laugh, the relief of telling sending me into a light-headed state as I give her the specifics.
    Her face pales and she shakes her head. “Aw, Aiz. It sounds so, so extreme. What if it doesn’t work?”
    â€œYou’ve already seen that it does work. Amazingly. At the teen siblings meeting, I even called a guy a douchebag.”
    She purses her lips, staring at me with flame in her black eyes. “I don’t know whether to be proud of you or smack you.”
    I pretend to flinch. “Maybe we should get back to the party and enjoy the new me before you decide.”
    With Evie sighing dramatically, we head out of the garage. This time she follows me.
    Jack raises his eyebrows when we rejoin the group. I whisper, “Girl talk.”
    I sip the soda he brought and hand it back. He puts his lips exactly where mine were and takes a long swallow. His tan jawline glints with the hint of golden stubble to match his hair. I want so badly to drag a finger along it, slowly.
    Suddenly, the room goes tilty and my head light. Whoa. I grab Jack’s arm for support.
    â€œYou okay?” He wipes splashed soda from his cheek and licks it off his finger.
    Rafe laughs. “Dang, someone cannot handle her alcohol.”
    I regain my balance. “I’m fine.”
    Jack nudges me toward the sofa. “C’mon, let’s sit down.”
    Even though I feel okay, I let him lead me there. We nestle into the cushions, our bodies pressed into each other. He smells of cedar and spring rain. Maybe I should’ve gotten dizzy earlier.
    He places the cup on an end table. “If you need to go home, let me know.”
    I bite my lip. “I could stay here, in this spot, all night.”
    He whispers in my ear, “I hear ya.”
    â€œOkay, knock it off, you two,” booms Johnny Sonoma, who plays every varsity sport. He sinks next to us, and pulls Abby O’Keefe onto his lap.
    Before we know it, a half-dozen kids join us, sitting on the floor around the sofa or hovering on the armrests. Jack and I soon meld into the laughter and slurred conversation of kids I barely know. How come I never noticed how friendly these guys are? It’s invigorating, being the party’s center of gravity. Other kids join us, watching from the sidelines and trying to get a word in. But we’re at the heart of the frenzy. At one point, I catch Evie watching from across the room. She shakes her head in wonder.
    She and I have a lot to discuss. I need my best friend to help me come to terms with all of this.
    For now, I enjoy learning about my fellow classmates while I cuddle next to Jack. His skin is deliciously warm. At some point, the lights in the room dim and the music intensifies. Johnny and Abby get up to dance. A few others join them. Jack gives me a quizzical look.
    â€œSure,” I say, rising with him, my head as clear and stable as a diamond.
    Soon, everyone’s dancing. I get that feeling I had the other night, as if I’m connected to a mass of humanity that throbs and flows. Instead of breaking off from it, this time I let myself sink into the sensation. Mentally, I’m crowd-surfing, in perfect harmony with my body, which Jack holds so tightly I feel every button on his shirt.
    Within a miasma of music and laughing, Jack and I lock gazes. We bring our faces closer, ever so slowly, until our lips touch. We pull back, smiling, and then lean in for real, meeting in a kiss that’s warm and pulsating. Oh, man, if holding hands is like a flame, kissing is an inferno. My body seems to know what to do better than my brain for a change. So I let it. We shift into each other for long, perfect minutes.
    Someone yells at us, “Take it outside!”
    I look up from my daze to find that Jack and I aren’t the only ones caught up in the moment. We throw our heads back, arms overhead, and dance, not caring about anything but the music. Many songs later I notice how my