Almost (9 page)

“What will they do once I take you off the market?” I ask. “I can only imagine the poor girls wandering around like a lost herd of sheep all summer, wondering where you went.” I risk another glance at the staring girls and shudder. “Do they even blink? Baa. Baa. Baa.”

He shakes his head and laughs. “Like I said yesterday, you're really funny.”

I arch one brow as high as I possibly can, pretending to ignore him and the fact that his compliment almost made me smile. “It's nice to know Michelle Hopkins has some other skill besides chewing gum and tossing pom-poms. She's texting so fast her phone's about to catch fire. And what's up with the tall blonde who's giving me the stink eye?”

“Hey, Michelle's cool. But you're right about the blonde. She's got some sort of crush on me. I'm hoping our budding relationship will kill it, so thanks. My bonus will be
her
moving along.”

“Serious?” I glare. “I'll need a list of your most dangerous stalkers. I don't want to end up in a surprise nail scratching event over you.”

“Would you please try to muster at least one expression showing you
might
be happy we're talking to each other?” He reaches forward and tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

I'm startled, but then happy because, just like yesterday, I didn't have the urge to flinch!

And then, I'm annoyed. With him and myself.

Those stupid butterflies are back. Wreaking havoc from my stomach to my toes. Does this mean all summer long I'll be dropping stuff, feeling slightly dizzy and unable to breathe?

I'm about to launch one of my scathing comments; but before I can zing one, Gray places his fingertip gently against my lips.

He shakes his head as though he knows my game and jerks his head toward the people behind us. “I'm thinking a smile would work better. We should use the attention to our advantage.”

His voice is butter soft as he continues, “Come on, Jess. Just try…or pretend or whatever works to get you through this. It's all for show.”

Brutally aware of just how warm his finger is against my lips, I oblige his request. “Like this?” I roll my eyes, pulling my fake, too-many-teeth-showing camera smile, and I shove my Bunsen Burner between us like a shield.

He grins. “Ridiculous, but it's a start. No more snide comments.” He moves his finger to run it down the bridge of my nose, tapping the tip once.

I'm completely undone. Melted, mush.

All I can do is stare at the way his smile makes the corners of his eyes crinkle! Do all cute guys have these things?

And his lips…the guy has amazing lips.

And damn those eyes straight to hell. How is it possible he has lashes that look like they came from a magazine?

I clutch the beakers close when I realize my grip has become dangerously loose. Tearing my gaze away from his face, I feel heat hit my cheeks and burn down to my toes. With two small touches and a smile, he's killed my brain.

Baa, Baa, Baa! I'm just like those other sheep.

Just in case Gray's noticed my complete lapse, I widen my smile and speak through my teeth, trying to make myself look like an obnoxious ventriloquist. “How long do I have to keep up the
happy part
? I'm getting a cramp.”

“That's the spirit.” He chuckles, leaning forward as though to look deep into my eyes. I figure he's trying to make a show to his friends that we're sharing a private joke. So awkward. Instead of pulling back like I want, I laugh too, and continue to avoid his gaze by darting a glance over my shoulder to check if everyone's still watching us.

Oh, they are. My heart is racing so fast I feel faint.

The way Michelle's holding up her phone, I wonder if this moment is about to be posted on YouTube.

When I turn back, Gray's moved even closer. As in, double-awkward-closer.

“Jess,” he starts, flushing slightly. “I'm assuming we could make the best of this. Us hanging out—it doesn't have to be
terrible
, does it? We could try for some fun? Be friends when it's all over?”

“I—I—uh—possibly,” I cover, because his suggestion is a complete impossibility. He has no need to worry about me making any more snide comments, either. The only thing I can think of saying now involves adjectives describing how breathtaking his voice is.

Keyword: Breathtaking. As in, stopped my breath. Yep. I've stopped breathing.

Baa, baa, BAA-OHMYGOD.
I hate myself right now. I think I also just blatantly sniffed him! But he smells so—fresh.

“Do you want me to help you walk to your car?” he asks, breaking the huge silence I've created.

“No. Absolutely not!” I shout, half-grateful I'm not making any farm animal noises out loud.

“Why?” He steps back, looking slightly surprised.

Should I tell him the truth? That if he takes one more step I might pass out because he's so gorgeous? Maybe I could mention I had this odd idea I wanted to kiss him back when I was staring at his lips? For real! What is wrong with me?

What in the heck would Dr. Brodie and my parents think about that?

What would the audience on the steps have done? What would Gray have done? Run screaming, probably.

Is this considered
progress
or do I need to be committed? I don't even know this guy!

“Give. Me. My. Stuff.”

“I'll be happy to walk you?”

“No. I'm good. Just hand it over. Now,” I order.

“Okay. Whatever you say,
boss
.” His grin returns. It's the double-wide one from yesterday. Dimpled, square chinned…
UGH.

I refuse to look at his dumb smile or his cute eye-crinkles one more time. He gingerly stacks my pile of things onto my newly-adjusted science kit and beakers. This leaves me staring at his strong-looking hands. Of course it does. And of course his hands are also amazingly, perfectly, and annoyingly well made. Like the rest of him.

Without another word, I turn my back and start for my Jeep, wondering if he can hear how loudly he's made my heart pound.

“Okay then, see you after school,
Jess
. It's a
date
. We'll have some
fun
! Good luck on your afternoon final!”

He sounds like a stupid megaphone. When I don't answer and hunch my shoulders, his low laugh adds a trail of goose bumps coursing down my neck.

The guy is out of control—which causes me to be out of control. That is an unacceptable option! This afternoon, I'm going to pin him down with some solid rules.

I make it to the Jeep, dump my stuff into the back, and scramble ungracefully into the driver's seat. I'd meant to catch a cat-nap during lunch, but now, that's going to be impossible. I decide to drive through Starbucks. I can get a
triple anything
or a snack to boost the two churning Red Bulls that got me through last period.

I start the engine and shoot a glance through the tinted window, figuring if anyone is still watching, they can no longer see past my silhouette. Gray seems to have been waiting for a movement like this. He's waving like a dork and swinging my long forgotten pink hoodie high in the air so I can see it.

He's yelling, “Bye Jess!” He flips my hoodie onto his shoulders and ties it around his neck until it looks like a ridiculous scarf—as though he means to wear it like that for a long time.

My stomach lurches. I want to laugh, but deep down I should cry. I'm going to be so far behind on sleep that I won't be able to avoid my bed tonight. Finals, plus all that's happened with Gray has me worried my nightmare is going to crash back in again. I need to come up with a new daytime sleep schedule. Fast. Things should settle down once the new job starts. Once I get used to Gray Porter talking to me as a daily norm. I'll also be able to log almost four hours of sleep each day after dawn, starting next week. I won't have to be at school at 7AM anymore. The internship starts at nine. That's lots of quality car napping. More than I'm used to.

In the meantime, I'm back on high alert. Tonight, I'll even stuff a towel under my door just in case I start making a bunch of uncontrollable noise in my sleep.

But I won't. I'm sure last night was just a one time stress thing. Positively, hopefully, almost sure that I'm going to be fine. Soon. Next week at the latest. Tonight if I'm lucky.

Please let me be lucky.

Chapter Eight

Gray

I stop one of the gangly-looking middle school boys exiting Coach Williams' music room. “Do you know Jess Jordan?”

“She's in there.” The kid points over his shoulder.

“Thanks.” I head in, surveying the giant room. A room I've avoided like the plague since freshman year. I linger near the door in case I spot Coach Williams. In case I need to make a quick exit. So far, all seems safe enough. Two oak teachers' desks are pushed up next to the far window. Heavy, iron music stands and folding chairs are arranged orchestra style in front of a large wooden podium. Choir risers have been set up in a semi-circle on the miniature stage filling half the room.

“Jess?” I call when the last kid files out and I still don't see her.

“Back here.” Her voice is muffled by the heavy, red and gold velvet curtain.

I hop onto the stage and joke-sing: “
The Phaaaanntom of the Opera is there, innnnnside your mind.
” I attack the curtain with a flourish and sing on, “
innnnside your mind.
”

Jess is sitting on an ancient, faded couch with her arms crossed over her stomach. Her face is extremely pale, and she's not at all impressed with my song.

“You okay?” I let the curtain drop.

She nods. “I didn't sleep well last night. And I—had a weird…lunch. After I saw you nothing went right.”

“Bummer.” I walk nearer, taking in the deep shadows under her eyes, and I wonder if she's telling me the whole truth. “What can I do to help?”

“Honestly? Let's just get through this. I want to draw up a
real
contract. So we both know what to expect. And what
not
to expect.” She shoots me a pointed look.

I want to tease her, but I don't have the heart. She looks so darn pitiful. “All right.” I sit on the floor near her and look up. I'm instantly sidetracked by the color of her clear blue eyes under the stage light. It doesn't help that her cinnamon-sunshine smell has completely taken over the small space. I concentrate on quieting the unsteady beat of my heart.

“What have you thought up so far?” I ask.

“I have some rough ideas. Like, each weekend we probably need to hang out like you said. You know. Go on sort of…real looking…dates?” She sounds so timid, like she thinks I'm going to laugh at her.

“I figured. Go on,” I encourage quietly, taking note how supremely uncomfortable the word ‘dates’ made her. I wonder if she's ever been out with anyone.

“We should also hang out a few nights during the week. If that works for you? And then, to keep the whole thing believable, you simply dump me at the end of the summer.”

“Hold on there—I—”

She holds up her hand. “Wait. Just listen or I'll lose my train of thought. I don't care how you break up with me, or the reasons you give,” she rushes on. “I'm
so
good with the break-up part. Looking forward to it, actually. No offense. I will also need you to call me, and text me. A few times a week. When my parents are home—after 5:30 PM. That, and pretend to like to me…when we're together. Sort of like today on the quad. I'll try not to hate it so much. So, yeah. Can you think of anything else?”

“You hated me talking to you?”

She flushes. “Do you want me to lie?”

“Yes. Yes I do. My feelings—they hurt really bad right about now. Duh.” I make a pained, squishy face.

“Please.” She laughs, finally appearing to relax a bit. “No joking. Where were we? We need to make the hanging out bits
last
longer.”

“Check.”

“You seem really good at making…things so believable. No fixes on how you're acting, just on my acting. And then…you can ignore me otherwise. I won't bother you during the in-between times. When you're off duty or whatever. So, yeah. I think that's it. Easy. Right?”

“You're serious?” I now feel slightly sick myself. Does she think I can really do what she's asked of me without caring?

She blinks. “What? Am I missing something?”

“Don't say anything else, just let me process.” I stand and pace away from her, and all that cinnamon air so I can think. So I can keep my freaked expression out of her observant line of sight.

The girl wants me to ignore her during the ‘in-between times’ and dump her at the end of the summer? What excuse could I possibly use to dump Jess that would not simply create more brutal gossip for her life? Does she not get that gossip is forever?