Kissing Her Crush (20 page)

“She doesn’t know what she is,” Ivy said. “
I
know what she is, even if she doesn’t. Even if
you
don’t.”

Luke didn’t have the extra energy to follow what she was saying. He could barely concentrate on anything but the task at hand. He clamped in the next slide and made a checkmark in his notebook. “I’m leaving for DC tomorrow. I planned on staying for a while, but it seems futile.”

His heart beat like a fifty pound slug whenever he thought about leaving. Because he wasn’t just leaving Natalie, but his parents, his family. He’d be leaving Hershey—his home, and the damn enchanting way all its street lights were shaped like chocolate Kisses.

“Hey. Check it out.” He slid the microscope toward Ivy.

“That’s it.”

Luke held out a pen. “You do the honors.”

Ivy grinned, and Luke tried to find some kind of satisfaction in the moment, but it was hollow. He was hollow. So hollow and so out of time.

I
t was the second day in a week Luke found himself driving toward Amish country before breakfast. Not until he spotted the “Welcome to Intercourse” sign did he finally take his lead foot off the accelerator.

He’d banged on her apartment door and even begged Ivy for her parent’s address in Hershey. She was nowhere. Which meant, she was at the farm.

He waiting impatiently behind a buggy at a four-way stop but was flying again by the time he turned onto the gravel driveway. Her car wasn’t there. Neither was her father’s truck.

Luke marched up the stairs and knocked. Once. Twice. Three times. He was about to make himself at home on the porch swing and wait all damn day when the door opened.

“Hey,” Brandon said.

Luke was surprised. He knew from Ivy that he’d been released from the hospital the day before, but he didn’t expect to see him here. “Hey. Is your sister here?”

He shook his head.

“Was she?”

The kid hesitated, then nodded.

“Is she coming back?” When Brandon didn’t reply, Luke backed off. “It’s cool. I’ll wait in my car if you want, but I’m not leaving ‘till I see her.”

“She went with my parents on a delivery.” He gripped the door jam. “It was a big one, and she knew it’d take them all day if she didn’t help.”

“So they left you
alone
?” He regretted it the second it escaped his mouth. “Sorry, man.”

“It’s okay.” Brandon shifted his weight. “I guess you heard what happened.”

“Only that you were in the hospital.” He did a quick visual sweep of the kid’s wrists. No bandages or scars from a razor. Then he hated himself for even thinking that.

“It was an accident.” Brandon took a beat, then held the door wide open. “Wanna come in?”

He sat in the armchair across from where Luke sat on the couch. “I was building a model,” Brandon began. “This three-D puzzle of the Charger from
Fast and Furious
. I kept getting the tiny pieces mixed up, so I emptied a few of my med bottles so I could use them. I tried to keep all the pills separated, but a bunch fell down the sink. Then I couldn’t remember which pills went in which bottle, I don’t pay attention. There’s one I’m supposed to take only right before bed.” He shrugged and tugged at his cuffs. “I guess I took the wrong one with dinner ’cause I woke up in the ER after they pumped my stomach.”

Luke felt pain behind his eyes. He swallowed and asked, “Are you okay?”

Brandon nodded. “It was a stupid mistake, and even after I explained what happened and why some of the pills were gone, they made me spend the night there. I wasn’t trying to OD, but Mom…” He stopped and ran a hand across his mouth. “They finally believed me when only a tiny bit of meds showed in the blood test. They look at me different now. Well, Nat doesn’t, but she never has.” He picked at the frayed cuff of his sweatshirt. “I think she made them all go on the delivery today. She knows I can’t stand when they look at me like that.”

Brandon sat back, shook his head and looked down. “Sorry, didn’t mean to unload all that on you.”

“It’s cool,” Luke said like he was shrugging it off, even though he’d listen to whatever this kid wanted to say. “I’m glad everything worked out.”

“Yeah.” His eyebrows suddenly squished together. “Hey. Nat thinks you’re already gone.”

“I’m supposed to be, but I need to talk to her. She hasn’t been at the lab.” Luke was tugging at his shirt cuffs the same way Brandon had. “We finished without her.”

“Nat didn’t finish because of me?”

“Um. No.” Luke backtracked, cursing himself for the insensitive slip-up.

“
Shit
.” He made white-knuckled double fists on his lap. “It’s my fault.”

“It’s not, I swear. I turned in the trial results right on schedule. Nothing happened because of you.”

“Wasn’t it Natalie’s project, though?”

“It still is.”

Brandon opened his mouth but didn’t speak for a minute. “You helped her finish it? But I’ve heard her call you the candy cop.”

“Sugar Nazi.” The term made him want to laugh now.
If Natalie only knew the truth…

“But you helped her anyway.” The kid eyed him for a moment, his gaze as perceptive as Natalie’s. “You’re the guy who was following her in the parking lot that day.”

“Uh.” Luke started bouncing his knee. “Sort of. But it’s not what you think.”

“Wait.” His eyebrows lifted. “You’re the guy she got caught on tape making out with at Hersheypark.”

“She told you about that?”

“She tells me things all the time. I don’t think she knows I’m listening, but I am.”

He sat back. “When you were here the other day, it wasn’t for work. You like her.”

Luke was bouncing both knees now. “I like everybody.”

“No, you
like
her.”

“Yeah.” He stopped twitching, and stared at the floor between his feet. “Yeah. I like her.”

Like
. What a stupid, useless word. Like wasn’t at all how he felt about Natalie. It was too hollow and small. She made him feel full and electric, like he could fly her to the moon and back, and then hold her in his arms. He wanted to be a better man when she was with him, even when she wasn’t with him.

Two days ago, when he’d decided to finish the trial, he feared he might’ve been throwing away the future he’d worked so hard for, the future he thought he wanted. And then, only a few hours ago, he’d
willingly
thrown that future away.

At least, that was what the NIH had told him.

Because of Natalie, Luke wanted even more out of life, more from his job and the future. But none of it meant anything if that future didn’t include her by his side, inside his arms.

“I love her.”

“Awesome.”

Startled, Luke flinched and looked up. He hadn’t realized he’d said the words aloud. He’d hardly had time to think them or to feel their strength and realness in his soul and in his head…his head that had been too broken to trust her.

“Don’t say anything to her,” he asked. “I mean, I never told her.” But suddenly, it was the only thing he wanted to say. The phrase was burning a hole in his brain. “She won’t”—he paused and raked both hands through his hair—“she won’t talk to me.”

“’Cause she’s all pissed off,” Brandon said. “She’s so stubborn.”

“Tell me about it. The only time she ever listens to me about a subject she wants to avoid is when I catch her off guard.”

“So do that.”

“Yeah.” He laughed drearily under his breath. “Should I jump out of a cake holding a sign?”

“Dude, no. But you gotta do something. Right?”

Of course he did. And it shouldn’t have taken a sixteen-year-old to make him see that. Luke was in love with a crazy, sexy, chocoholic, kindhearted, brilliant woman, and he’d do anything to make her listen. Absolutely anything to win her back.

Suddenly, he was so restless, he jumped up and began pacing the room, while his heart pounded in his chest so hard he had to clench his teeth.

Catch Natalie Holden off guard when he couldn’t even get in the same room with her. How the hell would he do that?

Wait a minute. He froze in place. The idea smacked him in the face like a line drive, and before long, the plan was brewing.

“I know what to do,” he told Brandon. “But I’m gonna need your help, man,
and
your mad guitar skills. You up for it?”

Chapter Eighteen

N
atalie pouted in the backseat of her father’s car. It had been years since she’d had a serious moping fest, and today seemed like as good a day as any, even though they were on their way to get ice cream.

Ivy had called so many times that Natalie had finally turned off her phone, but at least the trial hadn’t been a total loss. When she’d seen the text from Ivy that it had been finished on time, she’d been surprised. But very, very grateful.

So why didn’t it feel right?

The landscape of Lancaster County rushed by as she glumly stared out the window.

Yes, she’d gotten what she’d wanted and proved her theory was legit in the lab, but…the cost felt too high, like she’d lost more than she’d gained. The only solace was maybe she’d get to try again. But she wasn’t a fool. It was highly unlikely she’d get another miracle grant for phase two. This research project so dear to her heart was over.

She slouched down in her seat and crossed her arms. She wasn’t in the mood for ice cream, anyway.

Luke had called her, too. And she hadn’t picked up. She’d been playing make believe in her heart for too long. She should have known that the boy she’d dreamed of didn’t truly care about her, make
her
the priority. Neither of them were ready to trust again, maybe even love each other. It had all been wishful thinking, which brings nothing but heartache.

And she’d been right all along.

She was better off with just work. Just a quiet apartment and a refrigerator full of deadly mushrooms and eight bags of Hershey’s Kisses to keep her company at night.

Luke’s eyes were on a government position in DC, while all Natalie wanted was to help make the world a sweeter place. Sure, she did that by inventing delicious ways to sell chocolate, but what was wrong with that? Worst of all, Luke considered living in Hershey beneath him.

Had he ever said that, though? Or had Natalie made that jump? And just because she was a food chemist and he was a nutritionist didn’t mean they couldn’t get along. They got along great, actually. She felt closer to Luke than anyone.

Her breath suddenly caught and she sat up straight. Why, exactly, was she a self-inflicted prisoner in this car in the middle of Amish country and not on a train bound for DC?

Because she’d refused to talk to him, and now he was gone.

She held her breath then pushed it out, concentrating on not crying. Which, of course, made her want to break down in hysterical sobs.

She glanced at Muff in the other backseat. He had his ear buds in and was tapping his foot to whatever song he was listening to. He was also moving the fingers of his left hand like he was playing guitar.

This made Natalie’s already broken heart shatter. Did Luke have any idea what he’d done for her brother? She’d tried to thank him, but she couldn’t remember if she’d even gotten the words out. She’d probably just grabbed him and kissed him instead, letting her actions speak.

Gah!—the uncontrollable passion she felt for that ridiculous, gorgeous sugar Nazi was almost embarrassing.
Will I ever feel that strongly about anyone ever again?
she wondered, as she swiped a tear rolling down her cheek.

Muff snapped his fingers in front of her face to get her attention.

“What?” she growled, miserably.

With his headphones still on, he pointed at her cheek, made the pantomime of ugly crying, then wagged his index finger.

“I’m not crying,” she said, crossing her arms. “It’s allergies.”

Muff rolled his eyes, wagged his finger again, then looked out his window.

“Who has allergies?” Mom asked from the front seat.

“No one,” Natalie replied, scrunching further down in her seat, getting back to her pouting party.

“Your great-aunt Toby was allergic to the color turquoise,” Dad said, looking at her from the rearview mirror. “A
color
.” He chuckled. “Can you imagine?”

“She wasn’t allergic,” Mom said. “She just hated it.”

“Same thing.”

“No, it’s not.”

Natalie wished she was wearing ear buds, too. Her parents… They were trying so hard, so lovingly absurd. Like right now. Brandon said he was craving a Phillip Arthur special, so the next thing she knew, they were packed in the car, driving eighty miles round trip so their son could have ice cream. Natalie just wished Muff hadn’t insisted she come along. She’d rather have sat on the back porch and thrown apple cores at crows until she stopped feeling like crap.

“You sure you won’t come in?” Mom said, as the other three got out of the car at the ice cream parlor.

“I’m sure,” Natalie replied, she had some pouting to do, after all. No more than two minutes later came a tap on her halfway-lowered window.

“Thought it was you,” Dexter Elliott said.

“Hey.” Natalie sat up and glanced past his shoulder, making sure his brother wasn’t with him. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s root beer float night. Never miss it when I’m in town.” He gestured at the parking lot. “That’s why the place is packed.”

“Oh.” Dexter looked too much like his brother, so she turned to examine her nails.

“Why aren’t you inside pigging out? I know you’re not against sugar.”

She exhaled a halfhearted laugh. “Not in the mood.”

“Come on.” Dexter opened her door. “We’ll split one. That way I won’t look as pathetic when I devour three on my own.”

She could’ve begged off and stayed right where she was, but she didn’t have the energy to be contrary. “I don’t want to talk about your brother,” she warned, walking with Dexter to the entrance.

“Which brother?”

She shot him a look.

“Oh, that brother.” He opened the glass door for her. “I won’t bring him up if you don’t.”

“I won’t.”

Dexter nodded somberly, then pointed his chin to the back. “Looks like the party room’s the only place with open tables.”

Natalie glanced around at all the full seats and booths. “That must be where my family is, too.” She followed Dexter as he weaved through the main dining room. As soon as he entered the party room, all the lights in there went out, making her run into his back.

Three flat screens mounted on the walls flickered on. “There’s a private event in here,” she whispered. “We should leave.”

An image was slowly fading in on all the TVs, and music was playing, not from the TV’s speakers, but someone was strumming a guitar at the front of the room on the little stage. The same stage she’d seen Luke grace back in high school.

Her heart suddenly lurched and panged. Maybe it was being with his brother, or maybe it was stupid Phillip Arthur, but she missed him so badly it hurt. Hell, she’d missed him even when she wouldn’t speak to him.

Why hadn’t she answered all those times he’d called? She’d wanted to hear his voice, his laugh. But she’d been stubborn because he’d said something hurtful, and then she’d said something hurtful back, and then… Well, she couldn’t remember what happened after that, only that he was gone. He’d left for DC that night, angry, and she hadn’t even tried to apologize. Instinctively, she reached for her phone, but she hadn’t brought her purse along.

“Can’t I get one tiny break?” she muttered under her breath.

She closed her eyes and saw him that first night at Hershey Lounge. She saw him stammering while introducing her to his parents. She saw him covered in chocolate, felt his arms around her, his sweet, passionate kisses. She saw him the morning after she’d been sick, and he’d taken care of her, selflessly. She thought about that green smoothie and realized that was the moment she’d fallen in love with him.

Her heart pounded up her throat. She loved Luke, and their insignificant differences didn’t matter enough to stop that. She should’ve tried harder to be with him, and not given up when she didn’t get her way. If his life was in DC’s fast lane, hers could be, too!

She opened her eyes, realizing she was still in the dark and crowded events room at Phillip Arthur, wasting precious time at someone else’s party.

“Dexter,” she whispered in a rush. “Do you know what hotel Luke is staying at in DC?”

He flashed a quick glance at her then away. “What do you think? He’s my brother.”

“I need the address or just give me the name and I’ll find it.” Her heart pounded in an ecstatic, nervous rhythm the second she had a plan. “
Dexter
.” She poked him when he didn’t reply. “I need to find him. Never mind, I’ll call him from the road, and if he doesn’t answer—”

“Shh.” Dexter linked an arm through hers and pointed at the TVs on the walls. “Check it out.”

Words suddenly flashed across the screen:
Warning. Do not try this at home. Boathouses only. Arms and legs inside the ride at all times. Killer Canadian geese.

Huh?

An image took its place. It was a photo of…her. She was seven years old, braids in her hair and holding a red balloon from the county fair.

Puzzling.

The background music wasn’t a solo guitar anymore. Someone was singing a power ballad version of that Maroon 5 song about…sugar. Natalie blinked as another image appeared on the screen. It was her again. She was fourteen, displaying the trophy she’d won at her first science fair and grinning like it was an Oscar. Another caption:
Only you can prevent forest fires. And Hazmat showers
.

What the hell?

The next photo was of Natalie at her college graduation, wearing her black robe and yellow
cum laude
honor cord. She was also holding a Hershey bar.

Caption:
This woman has secrets: She loves apple cider, green smoothies, and me… The last one shouldn’t be a secret anymore.

The crowd in the room started to murmur and whisper. Natalie squinted into the darkness. Was that the back of her mother’s head? Dad’s bald spot? That was definitely Ivy’s red ponytail. She even recognized Eileen Elliott’s immaculately-styled dark hair.

Holy shiz. What was going on?

Just as she was about to break away from Dexter and demand an explanation from whoever was in charge of this little stroll down memory lane, her eyes landed on the singing guitarist on the unlit stage. There were two of them now, both playing, but only one still crooning about sugar, about how he’s hurting for her, hurting and broken and needing just one little taste.

“Luke?” she couldn’t stop from calling out.

“Hey, Nat,” he squeezed in between verses. “How do we look?”

“We?”

He flashed that grin that made her knees weak, while pointing the neck of his guitar at a screen.

Caption:
Natalie, I’ll never go to your house hungry, unless I want mushrooms. Or your chocolate. Lots of your chocolate.

As her photo disappeared, one of a preteen Luke took its place. She knew it was him, because, no matter the age, she’d recognize that face.

The bottoms of your feet are ticklish. So are some other parts.

Natalie couldn’t help smiling, and her cheeks felt flushed with happy embarrassment.

Next, Luke was fifteen with floppy hair, holding a guitar. Then he was in his own graduation robe, one arm around his mother.

You sing Madonna when you have a fever. And do other Madonna things I won’t mention in public.

“Nice.” This came from Dexter as he grinned and nodded his approval.

Natalie laughed as the last photo of Luke shattered apart on the screen, then pieced back together. But it wasn’t of just him now. Each of their photos was edited so they were together in the picture, as if they really had known each other forever.

Ask her about Amazonian cocoa. But not about the Calamine. That’s
my
secret.

Luke’s song picked up tempo, more urgent and pleading, matching the feelings in her heart she had to get out before she burst.

“Luke!” she called between her cupped hands. “I need to talk to you!”

But he just grinned and strummed the musical bridge of the song.

“Luke!” she said, weaving her way toward the stage, bumping into chairs. “This can’t wait.”

“It’s almost the end, baby. Watch!”

She turned to the screen where a new image was slowly coming into focus. It was gray-green and grainy like a cop car’s dash cam. It took Natalie exactly two seconds to figure out what it was. A tiny, two-seater boat bobbing on the water, an out-of-focus couple kissing in the darkness. His fingers running though her hair.

“Ermrgrrrrrrd,” she whispered, cover her smile with her hands.

Before all the blood in her body could rush to her cheeks, the image was gone, leaving the screens glowing white. A second later, the room erupted with whoops and applause.

“You know what you did to me that first day,” Luke said. “You made me see stars. I’ve been seeing stars ever since.”

The whole room was bright enough now that Natalie saw Brandon was the other guitarist on stage. He stood farther back than Luke, but he was up there, strumming along just as confidently.

How had this happened? And was her pounding heart about to beat right out of her chest?

Just as Luke hit the last note of his song, and he and Brandon strummed their final chords, one final caption flashed across the screen:
See you soon, Intercourse!

The room erupted in cheers, applause, and ear splitting catcalls.

“Subtle,” Natalie said, unsure if she wanted to kiss him or strangle him. Then their eyes locked across the room, and she had no intention of strangling him.

“Well, that was memorable,” she heard Ivy say.

“Get some good tips, Red?” Dexter replied.

But she saw only Luke.

He held the mike close to his mouth. “Natalie,” he said, drawing out the name. “I have to tell you something. Alone.”

She had to tell him something, too—now. She wanted to call it out right then. But she kept her eyes on him as he wove through the crowd toward her in a hurried, determined clip, ignoring everyone he passed.

When he got to her, he didn’t break stride, just took her hand and pulled her out the emergency exit at the back of the room. She barely had time to catch her breath or notice they were in an empty alley before he was in her face.