Magic Hands (16 page)

For a moment she was disoriented. “What? Why did you stop?”

After a swal ow, he wet his lips. His gaze was tight on her face. “You’re cold. I feel it. Let’s get in the car.” He opened the door.

Confused, she slid into the car wondering if she’d done something wrong.

He got in and looked at the steering wheel, he looked so tense, something was wrong.

She reached over but he shot his dark eyes at her so fast she pul ed her hand back like she’d been stung. “What’s wrong?” The moment was unlike any she had ever lived through. A kiss she’d never experienced before, one that stil flooded her veins.

He brought his lower lip between his teeth—a gesture she thought adorable, making him look innocent and vulnerable.

“Did I do something?” she asked.

He shook his head. “The kiss was great.” He started the car.

The kiss was more than great, she thought, a little frustration simmering. But then maybe he’d kissed so many girls that he rated her against the throngs and she didn’t have anything more than great to offer. Maybe that was the problem.

He drove in silence, edgy and distracted, until they reached her house. The engine hummed as they sat in the warmth of the car.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” he final y said.

“Why not?”

“I want it to be different with you.”

“Isn’t it different because it’s me?”

“It is. But I should have waited. I’m sorry.”

“Waited for what?”

His hands gripped the steering wheel, he shrugged. “I don’t know. I just don’t want to do anything wrong with you.”

“If you’re worried about proving you’re not like other jocks, don’t worry about that anymore.” She leaned close and he took immediate notice. “You’re not.”

“It’s not just that,” he said. “I don’t want anything between us to be like anything I’ve ever had with somebody else. You’re—” He looked at her long and hard. “You’re too good for that.”

Her heart leapt to her throat and banged there. “Whoa.”

She sat back, awed and afraid.

“See? Now you’re scared.”

Amazed is more like it. He so exceeded what she thought he was. “I don’t scare that easily.”

“Good.” Their eyes locked across the car. She wanted to kiss him again, but he didn’t make any moves that he wanted the same.

He kil ed the engine.

“Rache.”

“Yes?”

“Would you go to prom with me?”

Rachel’s breath skipped, and tied around a knob in her throat. She tried to swal ow but couldn’t. She wanted to scream, to laugh, to cry. Wrap around him and kiss him again. But she just said, “Yes.”

His lips broke into a smile. “Great.”

She leaned over and kissed his cheek, taking one last breath of him with her. “Thanks for helping tonight,” she whispered against his cheek.

He seemed in a daze after the kiss but he blinked and it was gone. “I’d like to go again, if that’s okay with you.”

“They’d love it.”

“So I can?”

She nodded.

He got out and opened her door for her.

“Just let me know when,” she said.

He shut the door and walked alongside her to the porch.

Because he kept a fair distance between them, Rachel figured he wasn’t going to kiss her again. She respected that. If he wanted things to be different, she’d let him have that. For her, the night was already in another sphere.

When Cort pul ed up into the driveway of his house, he was startled to find Lizzie coming at him at a ful run, waving her arms frantical y above her head. He rol ed the window down to talk but she ran to the passenger side.

“What the—” He unlocked the door so she could climb in.

Out of breath, she slammed the door, gasping.

“What’s wrong?” His heart hammered. “Is Mom okay?”

She nodded, stil gulping air. “Go,” she spit out, “as fast as you can. Drive us to Taco Bel .”

Cort rol ed his eyes, felt a smile bloom. He backed the car down the drive. “Why? Mom been in the kitchen al day?”

“Yes.” Lizzie’s breath slowly steadied. “And it smel s like fermenting shoes. I’m tel ing you, I can’t take another day of it. Do you know I’ve lost five pounds? Look at me, I’m practical y anorexic.”

“I thought girls could never be too rich or too thin.”

Lizzie cocked her head. “Where’ve you been al night?”

He glanced at the car clock. “It’s only nine.”

“Stil .”

“I was helping out a friend.”

“Hmm.”

“Don’t try to read something into it. You’l never know.”

Lizzie stuck both of her tennis-shoed feet on the dashboard. “Rachel Baxter.”

“How did you—” He reached out to snag her but she inched back with a taunting laugh.

“You left your computer on with Facebook open—Duh.

Mom could have read it.”

“Oh, but it’s better you did?”

“Way. I closed it for you by the way. After I sent her a long, juicy, message signed by you.”

He glared at her. “You’re dead.”

She wiggled her feet to the beat of the music. “She’s a cool girl, Rachel. Go for it.”

“Like I’d listen to you.”

“Except when it comes to your stomach.”

They drove along State Street and Cort checked out cars and drivers out of habit, but it was Rachel’s car he wished he saw. Scamming and driving are so juvenile, he thought now.

He kept his eyes on the road.

He pul ed into the drive-thru and they ordered then sat and relished their tacos and burritos.

The drive home was fil ed with sighs of contentment.

“Now that was food,” Lizzie said. “I’l be glad when Mom’s off this health thing. Thankful y the holidays are long gone. Can you see it? Tofu turkey?”

She stretched her arms out on the seat and felt something, lifted it to the light.

“What’s this?”

Cort looked over. His massage lotion. He reached out to snatch it but she yanked it back.

“Massage elixir?” she shrieked. “What are you doing with this?”

“I use it at work.”

“Oh, yeah, I bet. You do nails, Cort. Massages are something else al together.”

“Hand massages,” he emphasized and reached again for the tube but she refused to relinquish it.

“I want one.”

He bristled. “Forget it.”

“Come on, I’m your sister.”

“Exactly.”

“So you only give massages to girls you’re sexual y attracted to?”

Cort thought of the old women he’d given massages to just hours ago. “No, but—”

“Then you give me one and I’l critique it, tel you how wel you do. Stuff like that.”

He made another grab for it. “I don’t need your critique.

Girls love it. Now give me—”

“I want one or I tel Mom I found love elixir in your car.”

“It’s not love elixir!”

“Looks pretty slick to me.”

“Give me the tube!”

Her eyes danced with mischief. “Not until—”

“Fine, fine! Okay! You can have your freaking massage.”

“I’m very discerning, you’l see. What were you doing with love elixir tonight, huh? Or should I cover my ears.”

“You are so way off. I was helping Rachel out.”

She let out a snort. “Uh-huh.”

“It wasn’t like that. She’s not like that.”

“And you aren’t? Ha!”

“You don’t know anything.”

“I know you’re a hormone nightmare like most teenaged boys. So I imagine this little bottle comes in quite handy.”

“Cut it out, where’s your head? In the toilet?” Cort enjoyed the shock in her eyes. “Seriously, Liz, guys don’t like girls who talk with a lot of innuendo or sleaze. Cut it out.”

She was silent for a moment, turning the tube in her fingers. He glanced over, softened his voice. “If you can critique me, I can do the same, right?”

She shrugged but stil didn’t say anything.

They walked into the house and Cort’s gag reflex kicked in. Lizzie was right, the place reeked of sour, stinky shoes.

“What the—”

“It’s dinner.” Their mother was in her usual blue suit but had a white apron tied around her waist. She waved them over as she pul ed something oatmeal colored and squiggly-textured from the oven. “Ah,” she said, setting the odd meal on the burners with a smile. “Macrobiotic meatloaf,” she announced.

Lizzie pinched her nose. “I thought meat, by definition, was off the macrobiotic list.”

“It is, but for the sake of identification they stil cal the recipe that. Looks good, doesn’t it?”

Cort and Lizzie exchanged horrified glances. Cort made a b-line for the stairway.

“Cort?”

“I already ate.”

“When? Where?”

“Uh, just a few minutes ago.”

She marched over to him. “Open up.”

“Mom.”

“Open up, Cort.” Reluctantly he opened his mouth and she leaned close for a sniff. “Lizzie?”

Lizzie shook her head, backing toward the stairs. “I ate what he ate. Ground me, beat me, brand me—whatever, but I am not eating that.”

“Quit the courtroom drama.” Her mother went back to the meatloaf and looked at it. “It disappoints me when you two cheat. Especial y after I make the effort to cook us a bonding dinner.”

Cort felt a stab of guilt. He knew how hard it was to earn money, how long the hours. His mother worked hard every day, and the disappointment on her face bothered him.

“We can eat it tomorrow night,” he offered.

She looked over. “That would almost work but the point of fresh eating is to eat when it’s fresh. No.” She dug herself a portion that wiggled as it set on the plate. “I’l eat it. I’l save you two the obvious torture I can see it wil cause you to partake.”

Lizzie let out a “Phew.”

“Want me to sit with you?” Cort asked.

“Thanks, but I have paperwork.”

He nodded before taking the stairs up with Lizzie behind him.

Cort and Lizzie sat in front of his computer. Cort was half hoping Rachel would send him a message. He’d kissed her. Just thinking about it sent his blood into a spin. It was the hottest kiss ever. She had great lips, lips he’d stared at and wondered about for eons.

They hadn’t disappointed.

But what a retard you are thinking about them like they’re
body parts, Davies.

Lizzie’s hands were out, ready. Giving her a massage would kil any warm, lingering feelings he enjoyed for Rachel, that was a given.

“Let’s get this over with,” he muttered.

“Do you talk mean to al your clients?”

He took her hands. “I wasn’t talking mean.”

“You had a tone.”

“Just shut up and let me do this.”

“Clue one. Never say shut up to a client.”

He pinched his lips, tried patience. Squirting lotion into his palms, he warmed the cream before taking her right hand.

“Warming—nice touch,” Lizzie observed. She watched as his thumbs and fingers worked her palm and the back of her hand. “Pretty good.”

Cort’s thoughts drifted back to Rachel and he glanced again at the computer screen. That kiss was like a tidal wave.

Had almost washed his restraint right out of him. He could have taken her along, that’s why he stopped. There were girls and there were girls, and then there was that special one who deserved something else. That was Rachel.

“Hel o?” Lizzie said. “You’ve like made my palm into putty.”

“Oh.” He looked at her hand, moved onto her fingers.

“Sorry.”

“Thinking about Rachel?”

He looked at her blankly, “Maybe,” and smiled.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s just what she always says.”

“You’re right. I have heard her say that a lot. Pretty evasive.
Maybe
she doesn’t want to commit?”

“We’re not committing to anything. But I did ask her to prom.”

“She said yes? Or was it
maybe
?”

He smiled, took long, dragging strokes down each finger.

“She said yes.”

“Wow. That—whoa. That feels great. Who taught you how to do this?”

He lifted a shoulder, set her hand gently on her lap. “I watched the girls at the salon.” He squeezed some lotion into his palm again and picked up her other hand. “It’s simple.”

“It’s total y relaxing.”

“Endorphins are released into the blood stream when—”

“Don’t ruin it for me. You done this to her yet?”

“Yeah.”

A smile played on Lizzie’s lips. “She’s not going to be able to resist.”

“So, no comments, no corrections?”

Lizzie shook her head. “If a guy I liked did this to me, it’d be over. I’d do whatever he wanted.”

Cort’s face burned. That would be excel ent, if Rachel felt that way.

“Putty in your hands,” Lizzie told him.

Then a sickening thought struck him. He glared at Lizzie.

“If I ever hear that you’ve let a guy get on you—”

“Chil . Chil .” Lizzie pul ed her hand out of his slick one.

“You’re the only guy I know who works at a nail salon, Cort. I don’t think it’s the job of choice for most guys.”

Lizzie looked at her hands al pink and plump, and she gleamed. “Awesome.”

Prom would be her first and her last. Rachel couldn’t believe that she was going with Cort. Senior year, and she’d end it with an explosion. Part of her wondered if she’d made the right choice saying yes. But then there real y hadn’t been a choice—Cort was the only one who’d asked.

The guys would freak. She expected resistance but when she saw Sam, Pete, Chris and Todd in the parking lot waiting for her, she started to feel defensive.

They converged like dogs around a scrap of meat.

“Tel me I didn’t hear what I thought I heard,” Sam told her.

“You can’t seriously be thinking of going to prom with a poster boy like Cort Davies,” Pete said.

Todd fumed silently as they walked up the drag toward the school. Rachel waved to Jennifer, just pul ing in, in her sunny yel ow VW. The distraction would buy her some time.

She headed over.

“Rache?” Sam’s voice trailed behind her.

“What you heard is true,” Rachel tossed over her shoulder. Glad Jennifer got out of her car, she waited, her back to the boys in a message of leave me alone.

The boys mumbled and took off.

“How’s it going?” Rachel walked the rest of the parking lot alongside Jennifer.