my mom. She thanks him until it’s embarrassing. He actually sounds grateful when he assures her over and over, “I am honored to be of service to you, Evangeline.”
I appreciate having my things, but for me, there won’t be any lists. No boys, young or old, should be bringing me my underwear in a gym bag. If I need something, anything, I’m going to go home and get it myself.
Still, I do feel better having my stuff with me. I drag out one of my school books and pull my comforter around me like a nest. Or a foxhole.
I figure Garrett’s got to be freaking out downstairs. I’m sure it was traumatizing enough for him that The Waste had actually contemplated a kiss, let alone having me become a squatter on his living room couch.
As I open up the history book, knowing already that there is no way I’m going to be able to concentrate, Garrett walks into the living room. I jam my ear buds in and crank my Ipod, so neither of us has to make conversation.
I open my notebook and my cushion rises with a puff as he drops onto the one beside me. The smell of his cologne fills my nose. If confidence, strength and wanting have a smell, Garrett’s got a bottle of it somewhere. I try to hold my breath. He reaches for the wires of my ear buds and pops them out of my ears.
“Hi.” He holds the blaring ends, swinging in his hand. I dial down the music.
“What’s up?” I ask without looking him in the face. I have no idea what expression would be the right one. Besides the fact that he didn’t want to kiss me, I am here, camping out on his couch because my mom’s gone hairball. And I’m still feeling smothered by how desperately I wanted that kiss to happen. Even worse, it’s impossible to appear laid-back with my comforter bunched up all around me. I look like I’m being eaten by a fluffy manatee.
“You didn’t come back downstairs.” he says.
I want to answer, no duh and you didn’t kiss me either, but instead I say, “I was talking with my mom.”
“Oh.” he says and his voice sounds tickled by the relief in his grin. I won’t look to be sure because the last thing I need is to be captured in his smile and start believing again that I am the only girl in the world that he would ever want to talk to. At least I know better now. He would’ve kissed me if it was any other way. He chuckles, and even though the sound pulls at my eyes for attention, but I don’t fall for that either.
“I was worried that I made you uncomfortable.” he says.
Despite my resistance, a jagged giggle rips out of me and then I just go ahead and make it even worse by asking, “Why would you think that?”
He hesitates like he’s trying to put his hands on the right words. “You seem...uncomfortable.”
He sounds so painfully sincere that I make the mistake of looking up. The minute I do, I fall right into the wide open sky of Garrett’s eyes. I forget all about my mom. The surge of Garrett’s gaze hits me immediately, like plugging a kite into a charged cloud. Instead of fighting it, I try to hold onto it and trace it back. I want to know if he feels it too, but really, there is no way of knowing if I’m generating all of it or not.
“Are you?” he asks again. His voice rubs my temples and I am aware of how close his arm is to mine. The air is magnetized, pulling me toward him and I have to concentrate on keeping my hand in my lap instead of reaching for him. My voice feels too small when it finally works its way out of my throat.
“No.” I say. “I’m fine.”
“Good.” He smiles. “About school tomorrow...”
“I won’t say anything to anybody.” The words gush out of me, like the ready apology they are, and he laughs.
“You won’t? What aren’t you going to say anything about?”
“I...I don’t know. Anything.” There are a million things I think he probably doesn’t want anyone knowing. Like why he’d bother to try and catch the guy that broke my arm. Like how the The Waste family is having a
I appreciate having my things, but for me, there won’t be any lists. No boys, young or old, should be bringing me my underwear in a gym bag. If I need something, anything, I’m going to go home and get it myself.
Still, I do feel better having my stuff with me. I drag out one of my school books and pull my comforter around me like a nest. Or a foxhole.
I figure Garrett’s got to be freaking out downstairs. I’m sure it was traumatizing enough for him that The Waste had actually contemplated a kiss, let alone having me become a squatter on his living room couch.
As I open up the history book, knowing already that there is no way I’m going to be able to concentrate, Garrett walks into the living room. I jam my ear buds in and crank my Ipod, so neither of us has to make conversation.
I open my notebook and my cushion rises with a puff as he drops onto the one beside me. The smell of his cologne fills my nose. If confidence, strength and wanting have a smell, Garrett’s got a bottle of it somewhere. I try to hold my breath. He reaches for the wires of my ear buds and pops them out of my ears.
“Hi.” He holds the blaring ends, swinging in his hand. I dial down the music.
“What’s up?” I ask without looking him in the face. I have no idea what expression would be the right one. Besides the fact that he didn’t want to kiss me, I am here, camping out on his couch because my mom’s gone hairball. And I’m still feeling smothered by how desperately I wanted that kiss to happen. Even worse, it’s impossible to appear laid-back with my comforter bunched up all around me. I look like I’m being eaten by a fluffy manatee.
“You didn’t come back downstairs.” he says.
I want to answer, no duh and you didn’t kiss me either, but instead I say, “I was talking with my mom.”
“Oh.” he says and his voice sounds tickled by the relief in his grin. I won’t look to be sure because the last thing I need is to be captured in his smile and start believing again that I am the only girl in the world that he would ever want to talk to. At least I know better now. He would’ve kissed me if it was any other way. He chuckles, and even though the sound pulls at my eyes for attention, but I don’t fall for that either.
“I was worried that I made you uncomfortable.” he says.
Despite my resistance, a jagged giggle rips out of me and then I just go ahead and make it even worse by asking, “Why would you think that?”
He hesitates like he’s trying to put his hands on the right words. “You seem...uncomfortable.”
He sounds so painfully sincere that I make the mistake of looking up. The minute I do, I fall right into the wide open sky of Garrett’s eyes. I forget all about my mom. The surge of Garrett’s gaze hits me immediately, like plugging a kite into a charged cloud. Instead of fighting it, I try to hold onto it and trace it back. I want to know if he feels it too, but really, there is no way of knowing if I’m generating all of it or not.
“Are you?” he asks again. His voice rubs my temples and I am aware of how close his arm is to mine. The air is magnetized, pulling me toward him and I have to concentrate on keeping my hand in my lap instead of reaching for him. My voice feels too small when it finally works its way out of my throat.
“No.” I say. “I’m fine.”
“Good.” He smiles. “About school tomorrow...”
“I won’t say anything to anybody.” The words gush out of me, like the ready apology they are, and he laughs.
“You won’t? What aren’t you going to say anything about?”
“I...I don’t know. Anything.” There are a million things I think he probably doesn’t want anyone knowing. Like why he’d bother to try and catch the guy that broke my arm. Like how the The Waste family is having a
Similar Books
