Private 03 - Untouchable (14 page)

"I even broke my jaw!" he announced, like it was an achievement.

"Really? How?"

"That's what happens when parents drag their kids to country houses where there's nothing to do," Josh told me. "It was in Litchfield. Lynn and I were bored, so we tried to break the sound barrier on my Razor scooter. There was a brick missing in the sidewalk and I went airborne. A bike rack broke my fall. Excruciating. Excruciating! Plus I had to have my mouth wired shut for, like, ever."

I cracked up laughing, stopped twirling, and fell sideways into Josh, nearly knocking us both over.

"Oh, yeah. You have perfect balance," Josh said, laughing as well.

For some reason this made me double over and gasp for breath. I felt like Josh was somehow feeding me laughing gas. No guy had ever had that effect on me before.

"Get it together, Brennan. We're supposed to be stealth here," he teased.

"You're the one who hasn't shut up since we left dinner," I pointed out.

He stared at me for a second, his eyes searching mine, back and forth, back and forth, like they couldn't figure out what to focus on. "Right. You're right. Sorry. I'll stop now."

"No. It's okay," I said, laying a hand on his arm. "Let's just both whisper from here on out."

"Good plan. Good plan," Josh said.

He reached for the door and held his finger to his lips, widening his eyes comically. I nodded and tried not to laugh. Together we slipped inside and Josh held the heavy door until it closed, making sure the click was minimal. Inside, he pointed at Mr. Cross's door and once again widened his eyes in warning. Ever so quickly, we tiptoed past the closed door. The second we were in front of it, a giggle welled up in the back of my throat. I slapped my hand over my mouth. What was wrong with me? Did sneaking around really make me this giddy? Doing it with the Billings Girls had never had this effect.

Of course, none of them was as cute as Josh, nor did they smell as good.

I snorted.

"What are you doing?" Josh whispered.

Then he grabbed my hand and ran.

Covering the ten yards to the end of the hall felt like it took ten minutes. Mr. Cross was going to walk out of his room any second.

We were doomed. My heart was in my throat, but I was smiling. This was fun. Actual fun. And then we were safely behind the door.

"Sorry. Sorry," I said, out of breath. "I just couldn't help it."

"You're dangerous to have around, you know that?" Josh said, his chest heaving. He glanced over his shoulder at the door, as if he could see through the heavy wood.

"Do you think he heard us?" I asked, stepping closer to him.

"No. No. He's probably snoring already," Josh said.

He turned his face back to me and our noses touched. There was a split second of hesitation. A distinct sizzle of warmth in the air. I could practically hear his heart pounding through his shirt. My hand reached up and gently touched his chest. He stared at it as if wondering why it was there.

And then he grabbed me. He grabbed both my arms in his hands and kissed me. Hard. So hard I stumbled backward against the wall. We broke contact for a split second, but then he was on me again, kissing me like his life depended on it. Mashing my lips against his own. I couldn't even begin to try to kiss him back. It was all wrong. All completely and totally wrong.

Thomas had never kissed me like this. Thomas had made me feel special and beautiful and cared for every time we kissed. Thomas . . .

A sob welled up in my throat. I couldn't breathe. I reached up and shoved Josh away from me.

"What happened?" he demanded, out of breath. "Is something wrong? Was that wrong?"

"No! Sorry, I just. . . Sorry."

What was I doing? Why was he gone? Nothing made sense. I was crying. Already crying.

"Reed. Oh, God. I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

I held my stomach and stared at the pebbly carpeting of the stairwell through bleary eyes. Two minutes ago I'd been doubled over laughing. Now I was doubled over sobbing. I was losing my mind.

"No. I'm not," I cried.

"God, I shouldn't have done that. We shouldn't have--God, I'm sorry," he said, wrapping his arms around me and making me stand up. He pulled me against him, holding me. "Shhhhh. It's okay," he said in my ear. He moved my hair behind my shoulder and stroked it quickly, all the while holding me tightly with his other arm. "It's okay. It's going to be okay."

He said it over and over until I finally stopped crying. Until I almost started to believe it.

MORTIFIED

The next morning I woke up feeling like an idiot. Why could I not get my emotions under control? How long, exactly, would I be walking around like a ticking time bomb? I couldn't believe I had burst into tears in the middle of my first kiss with Josh. Maybe it hadn't been perfect, but he was still Josh. Sweet, funny, solid Josh. Josh, who could be a real boyfriend. Who was already a real friend. He didn't deserve to be treated like that.

Every time I thought about it, I actually shuddered in embarrassment. I was so mortified, I didn't even go to breakfast. I just sat in my room watching my e-mail inbox and eating Drake's coffee cakes, lifted from Kiran's closet and her faux box-of- shame. I was becoming a serial looter.

Around 10 a.m., I decided I'd waited long enough. The longer Taylor was MIA, the more my somewhat irrational concern started to feel rational. I typed up another e-mail.

164

To: [email protected] From: [email protected]

Subject: Please?

Taylor,

Seriously, getting freaked now. Just e-mail me back. Please. Thanks.

Reed

As soon as I hit send, my cell phone rang. After a long moment, during which I finally discerned that I wasn't in the midst of an actual heart attack, I reached for it. The sight of Josh's name on the caller ID made me cringe. I let it go to voice mail.

Ten seconds after it stopped ringing, it started again. Josh. Once more, I let the voice mail handle it. Once more, it started ringing again.

Finally I heaved a sigh and picked it up.

"Hey."

"So it's true. Third time is the charm."

I smirked.

"What's up?"

"I am. For a game of soccer," he said. "The question is, are you?'

"What?"

"Look out your window," Josh said.

I pushed myself away from Natasha's desk and crossed the room to the window. When I moved the curtain aside, there was Josh, on the path down below, grinning up at me with a soccer ball in the palm of his hand. He was wearing a dark-blue Easton hoodie and sweatpants. I had never seen anything so inviting.

"So . . . you don't think I'm a psycho?" I asked.

"No, I don't think you're a psycho," he said. "If anything, I'm the psycho. I think I was a little hyper last night and I ... I didn't mean to be so forward."

A blush crept over my cheeks.

"Anyway, let's just forget about it. Can we do that?" he said.

Ouch. Did that mean he was ashamed of the kiss? That he never wanted it to happen again? Because I, for one, was willing to leave that door open. If we could take it a bit easier, that is.

"So . . . you want to play soccer," I said.

"I figure, what better way to get over last night than to let you kick my ass all over the field," Josh said. "Come on, Brennan. Show me what you got."

His grin, even from a few floors up, was infectious. But even more infectious was the realization that wherever we were headed, everything between us was going to be all right.

"I'll be right down."

ENTANGLED

Soccer was the perfect elixir. Not just the soccer, actually. The beautiful, clear, day. The view of the campus from the playing field. The cold air in my lungs. The exertion, the sweat, the burning in my legs. And, of course, the trash talking. Trash talking was always therapeutic.

"Oh! And she steals the ball again!" I shouted at Josh as I kicked the ball away from him, then chased after it. "I thought you were on the soccer team, Hollis. Your footwork is for crap!"

Josh tripped forward as he raced after me. He was fast, I'd give him that. Somehow he got in front of me and tried to block my path to the goal.

"I never said I was first string," he said, gasping for breath. "I kind of ride the bench, to be honest. Baseball's more my game."

"Ah. Well, that explains it. Cardio's not a priority when you're just standing on base all day, huh?" I stopped and put my foot atop the ball. Josh placed his hands on his hips and drew in a few deep breaths.

"Why're you stopping? You intimidated?" he asked. Rather, gasped.

I laughed. "No. Just hoping I don't need the defibrillator."

"Come on. Let's go," he said, wagging his hands at me weakly. "I'm getting the ball back."

I raised my eyebrows. "Are you really? Go ahead."

I crossed my arms over my chest and smirked. Josh looked at me. He looked at the ball. He looked at me again.

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah. I dare you to try to take it from me," I told him.

Josh shrugged and turned away. "Whatever. If you're not even gonna make it hard--"

Suddenly he whipped around again and kicked out his leg for the ball. My ninjalike reflexes, however, had long since switched on. I simply rolled my foot back, sliding the ball around my legs, where it came to rest at my other side. Josh tried to pull up and switch directions. Instead he tripped himself and slid forward. My eyes widened. His leg swept right toward mine and with a sudden swoop, I was going down, too. So much for those reflexes.

Suddenly I was lying crooked over Josh's side, face to the ground. We both turned to extricate ourselves, but instead our legs got hopelessly, awkwardly entangled. My heart started to pound.

"You really do fall a lot, huh?" I said, trying to turn over.

Josh turned on his side so that he was facing me. His chest was 
a mere inch from mine. He had a leaf stuck in his curls and a streak of brown and green across his chin.

"Actually, I did that on purpose," he said.

Gravity reversed itself as he leaned in to kiss me. Gently. Softly. Reverently. Sweetly. This was a real kiss. It was exciting but also comforting, like sinking into a soft pillow. It was as if we just fit. He touched my face with his fingertips and I rested my cheek on his bicep as I kissed him back. There were no thoughts of guilt or remorse or comparison in my mind. It was just Josh and the cold breeze and the scents of cut grass and fallen leaves. This felt like our real first kiss.

"Ahem!"

Josh and I sprang apart. I tried to scramble up but slipped on my heel and fell right back down on my ass. Hard. Standing not twenty yards away were three not-so-happy-looking men. Detective Hauer. Chief Sheridan. Dean Marcus.

"Perhaps I should have had a stricter schedule for those students whom the school was so kind as to host this weekend," Dean Marcus said. He looked cold. Cold and tired and annoyed and accusatory. Like he blamed us for the fact that he was cold and tired and annoyed.

"Sorry, sir," Josh said, pushing himself to his feet. He offered me both his hands and yanked me up from the ground. "Heat-of- the-moment thing. Won't happen again."

"It certainly will not," the dean said, walking toward us. The other two followed. Detective Hauer looked at me as if he was trying 
not to laugh, and I quickly cleared my throat and looked away. If he thought there was some kind of kinship between us, he was wrong. Especially now that I'd seen him following my friend in the dark for God only knew what reason. Until that was explained, we'd be sharing no amused glances. "I think the two of you should separate yourselves for the rest of the weekend. I'll make sure that both Mrs. Lattimer and Mr. Cross are aware of it," Dean Marcus said.

"Yes, sir," Josh replied.

"Yes, sir," I echoed.

"Mr. Hollis, Chief Sheridan and Detective Hauer would like a word," the dean said.

"More than a word, actually," the chief amended, sounding stern. "We have quite a bit to talk about."

Josh lost all color in his face. I stared at him, waiting for him to glance back, to show me that he was as confused as I was. He didn't. His eyes were locked on the chief.

"Why? Did something happen?" Josh asked. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Mr. Hollis. Nothing to be alarmed about," Detective Hauer said. "It's just now that your lead fell through we have a few more questions for you. We want to make sure we didn't miss anything."

"Normal procedure. You understand," the chief stated coolly. "You were the last person to see Thomas Pearson alive, so we're hoping there might be some details you've omitted--"

"I didn't omit anything," Josh said quickly.

All three men stared at him as if he'd just flipped them off. My stomach felt oddly hollow.

"Or perhaps some details you may have forgotten," Detective Hauer said.

"Oh. Sure. Right," Josh finally glanced over his shoulder at me, then wiped his palm on his sweats. "I guess I'll. . . see you later."