Love Storm (62 page)

Silence for a long moment.

"Okay then," she said.

"Good," I said, exhaling a deep breath. "What do you want to eat?" I asked.

"Anything's fine," she said. Suddenly, her distant mood had faded, and she was more or less back to normal, not as held back and uncomfortably polite.

"Hmm, okay," I said, as we got out of the car. We kicked off our shoes in the foyer and I led her to the kitchen. "I can make something if you want."

"Oooh, Zackary Crowne, Italian gourmet chef," she teased. "That would be great," she said, leaning against a counter top as I gave the food in the refrigerator a once over. I didn't understand why Victoria had wanted to go grocery shopping – our fridge was full.

I could feel the tension between us melting away. "Okay. Oh, hey, you didn't even get to change or shower anything, huh?" I said with a start.

"What? Oh," she laughed, looking down at her clothes. I didn't realize until now that she was still wearing shorts and a t-shirt, but now that I thought about it, it made sense. She must have found me right after tennis practice. "Yeah."

"You want to take a shower or something while I cook?" I asked.

"Oh," she said, looking surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah, you got a change of clothes or anything?" I asked.

"Uh, no," she said. "Why would I?"

I shrugged. "I dunno. I do, in my car. Eh, you can borrow some clothes," I decided. I found a fresh towel for her and escorted her to the bathroom.

"Thanks," she called out before closing the door behind her. I waited until I heard the click of the lock before I left her to her own devices.

Twenty minutes later found me busy cleaning up in the kitchen. I had just put dinner in the oven when I heard Winter's voice behind me.

"Smells good in here," she said.

"Thanks," I said. I turned around and nearly had a heart-attack. As it was, I stumbled over thin air and fell ungracefully to the floor.

"Don't
do
that, ever again," I said forcefully, scrambling up and swallowing hard, rubbing a sore spot on my side. "It's not nice to walk around in just a towel in the house of an adolescent male," I complained. I tried not to look at her – blood was pounding fast and hot through my veins.

"Sorry," Winter said, "I don't have any clean clothes, remember? I shouted for you but I guess you didn't hear me."

"Oh…" My brain was telling me not to look at her but my eyes had something different in mind, and strayed to her figure, wrapped only in a white towel, her cheeks still flushed from the heat of her shower. "Oh," I repeated stupidly, swallowing again. My throat had mysteriously turned as dry as the Sahara Desert, and I choked. "Uh…yeah. Yeah," I said, ripping my eyes away from her with a great effort. I led her to my room and rummaged through my drawers, throwing a clean pair of boxers and an old t-shirt on the bed. I left the room as quickly as possible before I could do something unbelievably stupid, and nearly ran downstairs so I could find something to do with my hands, anything to distract me from the mental image of her standing in my kitchen with her hair wet, water droplets sliding down her bare shoulders, clutching a fistful of the towel at her chest…

I yelled at myself in my head for even suggesting she take a shower in the first place as I finished cleaning up the pots.

Winter popped back into the kitchen a minute later, and I didn't know if seeing her wearing my clothes was any better than seeing her with just a towel on, because she looked
good
in that t-shirt and those boxers, and the fact that her legs were bare and she was barefoot only added to her physical appeal. And there was that thing about her hair being wet…oh,
damn
she looked sexy. Okay, Zack, you can get through this. Just breathe, and remember the three big W's: willpower, willpower, and willpower.

Unfortunately for me, wherever Winter is concerned, willpower is definitely something that is absent in large amounts.

"What'd you make?" she asked curiously as I opened the oven and got out a pair of oven mitts.

"Lasagna," I announced, presenting it with a flourish.

She stared at it for a second, then started to smile as I set it down on the counter and cut out portions for the two of us. "Lasagna," she said softly.

"What?" I said, handing her a plate and gesturing for her to sit down at the counter as I got forks. "I can't remember the last time I made…." I stopped. "Oh…yeah." One look at her face told me she remembered too. When I had showed up that first day at Eva's house to help them out with her siblings, I had made
lasagna
for dinner.

Winter laughed reminiscently as we tucked into the meal. "God, I remember that day," she said.

"You hated me," I grinned.

She had taken a bite of food, and choked at my words. "No, I didn't," she coughed. "Shoot, this is
good
."

"Thanks," I grinned.

"I didn't hate you. I disliked you," she corrected.

"Close enough."

"But that was then, anyway." The surprised look in her eyes told me she hadn't meant to let that slip out. She ducked her head, self-conscious all of a sudden, and took another big bite of food to avoid having to immediately answer any question I had about that.

I smiled to myself. She was so freaking adorable.

We still had a lot of less pleasant issues to talk about. We hadn't yet breached the subject of last week's fight, though I knew it was on both of our minds. But for the duration of that meal we put them all aside, and conversed lightly. She made me laugh, too – something I hadn't done for days. After we finished eating we stayed there, sitting on the tall stools at the counter, and somehow got around to playing the "Would You Rather" game.

"Would you rather do a strip tease for Larissa Kretcher or do Seven Minutes In Heaven with Gavin?" Winter asked with a wicked grin.

I groaned. "Neither," I said, disgusted.

"That's not a proper answer," she sang. "Remember the rules? Choose one and be honest."

"Seven Minutes In Heaven with Pennington, then," I said defiantly. "I can knock him out in the closet, whereas if I do the strip tease I'll end up losing a greater part of my dignity. Your turn," I said quickly. "Would you rather…sing a Backstreet Boys song in front of the whole school or eat one of those big economy sized bags of Ranch flavored Doritos?"

She made a face. "Doritos,
gross
. But I'd rather eat them because I could hold my breath so I don't have to taste it. Would you rather…" She thought for a moment, looking around the kitchen. "Have your car totaled or have your license suspended for a year?"

"Easy," I grinned, "Have my car totaled. Then I could buy a new one."

She looked as if she didn't know whether to laugh or to be exasperated. "Not everyone can buy a new car and pay the increased insurance just like
that
," she smiled slightly as a compromise.

"True," I said, "But I can. Come to think of it, I could probably buy
you
a new car if you wanted one," I said thoughtfully.

"Are you offering?" she teased.

I looked at her in alarm. "Er…uh…I –"

She was laughing. "Luckily for you, I'm very happy with my ancient lemon," she grinned, sticking her tongue out at me.

"Okay, your turn," I said, trying very hard not to imagine what else she could be doing with that delicious tongue of hers. I unconsciously licked my lips. "Would you rather…" Maybe it was the thought about her tongue that made me ask, "Kiss Brock or Martin?"

"Ugh, what kind of a question is that?" she asked, wrinkling her nose. "Brock, then," she said promptly.

I shook my head admiringly. "You're a loyal one, aren't you." It wasn't a question.

"I guess," she said. "On that note, who would you rather? Eva or Belinda Caterina?"

"Oh, I suppose that's better than choosing between Brock and Martin?" I asked sarcastically. "Belinda," I answered.

"Why?"

"Because you'd kill me if I said Eva."

"Nah, Martin would probably get to you before I could."

I shuddered. "Not a pleasing thought. Alright. Back to you. Nathan or Anthony?"

"Oh, man," she winced. "Uh…there's something decidedly wrong about kissing Eva's little brother, so I'll say Nathan. He's pretty hot."

"Is he?" I asked mildly. "Hotter than –" I caught myself just in time.
Gavin
, I had wanted to ask.

"Who?"

"Anthony?" I filled in lamely.

"Yes, he's hotter than Anthony. I don't think I quite like this new pattern of questions. But I'll ask anyway. Okay…Rebecca or…or…Carolyn Manoske?" Carolyn Manoske was one of Larissa's little followers.

"Rebecca, I think," I answered absently, too caught up in gazing at her to process any thought completely. 'There's only one person I
really
want to kiss,' I thought to myself. I caught Winter's eye and suddenly turned serious. Should I ask her what I really wanted to ask? I got pulled into those amazing dark eyes and she seemed to sense the shift in mood, the half-smile disappearing now.

"Go ahead," she prompted softly, almost as if she knew what I wanted to ask and was giving permission.

'
Remember the rules?
' Her voice echoed in my head. '
Choose one and be honest
.'

I took a deep breath. "Would you rather kiss Gavin…" I paused, teetering on the brink, and went for the plunge, "Or me?" I whispered. I realized my heart my pounding like crazy, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. But I wanted to hear her answer. Desperately needed to know her answer.

Her eyes were still locked on mine, and I knew whichever answer she gave, it would be the honest one, because there were no lies in those eyes, ever, which was something I should have remembered before my jumping to conclusions escapade. If anything, she was truthful. Winter did not lie. And I didn't know if that more reassuring or more frightening than anything else I'd ever known.

"You," she said simply. And looking into those eyes, I knew it was the truth.

I slowly released a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. "So you wouldn't mind," I breathed, "If I kissed you right now?" I was already leaning towards her. There was a distant roaring in my ears.

She had moved closer as well, but I waited for her response, my eyes traveling down to her slightly parted lips.

"No," she said, very, very softly, "I wouldn't."

"Are you sure?" I whispered so quietly I barely even heard myself. The desire to kiss her was so strong I had to physically swallow, hard, to stop myself.

"Do you really even have to ask?" she replied. Our lips were a millimeter apart and I was breathing in her air.

"I…uh, I…" Didn't know what to say, because her closeness was so
incredibly
distracting.

"That's alright," she smiled, drawing away. "It was a rhetorical question."

No, no,
no
, what are you
doing My mind asked her mournfully.

"Oh?" I asked, very disappointed, leaning towards her even farther forward to compensate for the space she was putting between us.

"Because you're not going to kiss me right now," she murmured, putting a gentle but firm restraining hand on my shoulder.

"I could," I said hopelessly, sitting back, because it didn't look at this rate that I would be. Damn. I gazed at her dolefully.

She smiled again and I felt my brain melting into a big puddle. "We should talk first, Zack," she said softly.

"Okay," I agreed with a sad sigh. "Let's talk."

She moved to withdraw her hand from my shoulder but I caught it with my own.

"I'll go first," I suggested, holding her hand with both of mine in my lap. "I'm sorry," I said quietly, bowing my head and concentrating on her hand, because it was too hard to look her in the eye. I turned it palm up and traced the lines on it with my fingertips, wishing I could read her future like a fortune teller and that her future would have me in it somewhere. "Actually, I'm
really
sorry. I should have listened to you when you wanted to talk. I guess it wasn't fair of me to…ah, assume anything in the first place," I said, rather painfully. "Just…I don't know." I shook my head slightly. "When I saw you in the classroom with him like that, it just made something in me snap. Something really nasty. I don't like him," I said by way of explanation, knowing it sounded a bit too much like an excuse. "Gavin, I mean." There were a lot of things I was implying with my words, and there was a lot to be read between the lines. I didn't know if she was hearing all those hidden messages. If she did, she didn't show it.

"I know," Winter said, her eyes flitting up to mine. "I'm sorry too. For…for yelling at you, and, uh, punching you, I guess. My fist is probably the most sorry," she said ruefully, turning her hand over in mine and curling it into a fist. I rubbed my thumb over her knuckles. "If it's any consolation, my knuckles hurt really badly afterwards." She laughed lightly.