Rules Of Attraction (19 page)

Our dough war continues until the entire backyard is scattered

with little balls. Westford comes outside with a confused look on his

face. “I thought you two were making dinner.”

“We were,” Kiara tells him.

“While you two have been playing around, the rest of us are hungry.

Where’s dinner?”

Kiara and I look at her dad, then each other. Without even saying a

word, we pelt him with dough balls until he joins the war. In the end,

Mrs. W. and Brandon get in on the dough wars, too.

I’m tempted to call Alex and Brittany over, ’cause I wouldn’t mind

pelting them with a few. Maybe I should suggest to Mrs. Berger to

have dough wars during REACH. It beats group therapy any day of the

week.

THIRTY-TWO :
Kiara

“Come over tonight,” Madison says to Carlos at his locker Friday

morning. “My parents are still gone, so we can play house all weekend.”

I’m standing at my locker and hear her. Carlos is supposed to go

with me to The Highlands to help with the painting class tonight. Will

he blow me off for her?

“I can’t,” Carlos tells her.

“Why not?”

“I’ve got plans.”

She steps back, shocked. I don’t think anyone has ever rejected

her before. “With a girl?”

“Yeah.”

“Who?” she says, her word as sharp as a knife.

Before I know what’s happening, Carlos pulls me to his side. “With

Kiara.”

While I’m still in shock, Madison sneers at both of us. “That’s a

joke, right?”

“Actually—,” I start, ready to out him, but Carlos squeezes me

closer and almost cuts off the circulation in my arm.

“We’ve been secretly datin’ since last week.” He gives me a smile

and a look that says I’m his one-and-only. That smile might deceive

Madison, but I know he’s full of it. “Isn’t that right, K.?”

He squeezes me tighter. “Uh-huh,” I squeak out.

Madison shakes her head fast, as if she can’t believe what she’s

hearing. “Nobody in their right mind chooses Kiara Westford over me.”

She’s right. We’re busted.

“Wanna bet?” My eyes go wide when Carlos bends his head down to

me. “Kiss me, cariño.”

Kiss? In the hallway in front of everyone? I can’t even talk in front

of Madison, let alone kiss the guy she’s interested in, in front of her.

“I-I-I d-d-don’t . . .”

I try to come up with something, but keep stuttering. As if Carlos

doesn’t even notice I’m struggling with my speech, his fingers cup my

cheek, then trace a gentle path down to my lips. It’s something a

boyfriend would do to a girlfriend that he’s crazy about and . . . and . . .

and Carlos is full of complete bullshit. I know it. He knows it. But

Madison doesn’t know it. I can feel his hot breath on my face, and hear

an almost silent word of thanks before he tilts his head and puts his

lips on mine. I close my eyes and try to shut out the rest of the school

and just focus on trying to savor the moment. Even if the kiss is fake,

it doesn’t feel fake. It feels exciting and sweet. I know I should push

him away, but I can’t. I reach up and wrap my arms around his neck. At

the same time, he pulls me closer and without warning teases my mouth

open with little erotic licks of his tongue. I don’t know where he

learned to kiss like this, but it’s hard not to moan into his mouth and

feel something deep in my body awaken when our tongues touch.

When Carlos pulls back and unwraps my arms from his neck, he

sighs. “She’s gone.”

“W-w-what was th-th-that all about?” I ask.

He looks around to make sure people aren’t eavesdropping. “I need

you to be my girlfriend. There, I said it.” When I don’t respond, he

takes my elbow and pulls me down the hall until we get to the computer

lab. It’s empty, except for the thirty computers in neat little rows. The

guy is confusing me, and it doesn’t help that my lips are still tingling

from his erotic kiss. I compose myself and think about the words

before I say them. I’m not going to stutter.

“What about Madison? You had sex with her in her parents’ bed.”

“I didn’t have sex with her, Kiara. That’s a rumor she started, not

me. I knew her for a whole five days before I went to her stupid party.

Give me a little credit.”

“Why should I? You’re always t-t-talking trash.” I turn my back to

him and start walking out of the computer lab. I guess I’m getting mad

because it looked and felt like a real kiss, when in reality Carlos kissed

me as a ploy to dupe Madison.

“Okay, I admit it. I talk trash. But I didn’t have sex with her, and

the only reason she’s after me in the first place is because she wants

to make Ram jealous. I need her off my back, so will you pretend we’re

a couple or what?” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Name your

price.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re too smart to fall for my bullshit, and I don’t want a

real girlfriend. I had one once, and it was a complete disaster. Come on,

name your price.”

I don’t care about dressing up every day, but just once I’d like to

go to a school dance with an actual date. It’s my last year at Flatiron,

and I might not get another chance.

“Go to Homecoming with me.”

“I don’t do dances.” He shakes his head. “Homecomin’ is out of the

question. And don’t even think about makin’ me go to prom.”

“Then forget it.”

I head for the door, but he grabs my elbow and urges me to face

him. “I don’t know anyone else here who can help me.”

“Homecoming or nothing,” I tell him, staying firm.

Carlos gnashes his teeth. “Fine. Homecoming. But you have to wear

a dress . . . and heels. And I’m not talkin’ those thick granny ones.”

“I don’t own heels.”

“Then go buy some.” He holds out his hand. “Deal?”

I take a second to think about it, then put my hand in his and give

it a hard shake. “Deal.”

I try to hide my excitement, but I can’t just shake on it. I open my

arms wide and hug him tight. I think he’s surprised, but I don’t care.

I’m going to Homecoming! And not just with any boy . . . with Carlos, a

boy who might just be the most perfect fake boyfriend. Now if I could

only cut out the fake part . . .

I pick up Carlos at the REACH facility at five and drive him over to

The Highlands. The entire group is waiting for us at their easels, eager

to start drawing. I take Carlos to Betty Friedman, one of the

administrators who schedules the classes. “Betty, this is Carlos,” I say,

introducing them. “He’s helping me today.”

Betty looks up from her desk. “Thanks, Carlos. I’m glad you’re here.

Everyone has been excited to have live models. One of our resident

artists is here to supervise and help you out today.” We follow her to

the front of the recreation area, where a guy wearing a black

turtleneck and matching tight black pants is setting out different color

paints in jars.

“Here are your models,” Betty tells him. “Kiara and Carlos, this is

Antoine Soleil.”

“I brought costumes,” I tell Antoine as I pull out a red checkered

shirt and cowboy belt for Carlos and a cowgirl outfit for me. I

borrowed them from the theater department at school.

Carlos takes one look at the costume and takes two steps back.

“You never said anythin’ about costumes.”

“I didn’t?”

“No.”

“Sorry,” I tell him. “We’re wearing costumes.”

Betty points to a room off to the side. “You can dress in the

conference room, if you want. Or wait until one of the guest bathrooms

becomes available, although I just saw Mrs. Heller walk in and it might

be some time until she resurfaces.”

Carlos grabs the shirt and belt from me, then walks into the

conference room. I follow behind with the cowgirl outfit.

“Remind me why I agreed to do this?”

“Because you wanted to do something nice for me,” I tell him as I

lock us in the room so nobody accidentally walks in.

“Right.” He pulls his shirt over his head, revealing a rock-hard

stomach any guy would envy and any girl would drool over. “Next time I

want to do somethin’ nice, slap me.” He looks at me and the side of his

mouth quirks up. “I was kiddin’.”

“I figured.” I pull the denim and lace cowgirl dress over my head,

glad to have the table hiding me at least a little. When it’s in place, I

weave my hands through my own shirt and toss it aside, then shimmy

out of my pants. Whoa. This dress is short. Really, really short. I look

at my bare legs. I try pulling the dress down, but the lace is so layered

and frilly it stands out like petals.

“Please don’t tell me I have to actually wear this ridiculous belt,”

Carlos says from across the room as he secures the oversized silver

buckle on the belt.

“Pretend you’re a rodeo champion,” I tell him.

“More like a champion wrestler by the size of this thing. What are

you wearin’? You better look as ridiculous as I do.”

I look down at my short, frilly dress with the fake jean vest sewn

into the front. “Mine is worse.”

“Come out from behind the table and show me.”

“No.”

“Come on. We’re a couple now, aren’t we?”

“We’re a fake couple, Carlos.”

He sits on the edge of the conference table. “Well, I was thinkin’ . .

. I figure as long as we know it’s not goin’ anywhere, we could, you know,

hang out.”

“What does ‘hang out’ mean?” I ask.

“You know, spend more time with each other. You make me laugh,

Kiara, and right now I need some fun in my life.” He moves around to

my side of the table and looks at my outfit, then whistles

appreciatively. “Nice legs. You should show ’em more often.”

I shrug. “I’ll think about it.”

“What, showin’ your legs more often or hangin’ out with me?”

“Both.” While the very idea of being with Carlos is exciting, I need

to protect my heart from being broken. Hanging out to Carlos means

keeping an emotional wall up so we don’t get too involved. I don’t know if

my wall is that strong.

In the rec room, I introduce Carlos to Sylvia, Mildred, Mr.

Whittaker, and the others. Sylvia grabs my sleeve. “He’s a looker.”

“I know. The problem is, he knows it, too.”

Mildred waves Carlos over. “Let me look at you.” She eyes him up

and down. “I saw you when you walked in. What’s with all those tattoos?

Makes you look like a hooligan.”

“I suspect I am a hooligan,” he says to her. “Whatever that means.”

“It means that you’re trouble,” Mildred says, pointing her

paintbrush at him. “Nothing but trouble. My husband was a hooligan.

Trouble followed him wherever he went. He used to ride around on his

motorcycle like he was James Dean.”

“What happened to him?” Carlos asks her.

“The old coot died ten years ago in a car accident.” She pats

Carlos’s cheek. “You look a little like him. Come closer.” When he does,

she closes her eyes and reaches out to touch his face, almost tracing it

with her fingers. Carlos is still, letting her fantasize about going back

to a happier time and pretend for the moment that she’s touching her

husband’s face instead of Carlos’s. Mildred sighs, then opens her eyes.

“Thank you,” she whispers, tears welling in her eyes.

Carlos nods in silent understanding at the gift he just gave her. I’m

standing here in awe of him. On the outside, Carlos is a tough jerk who

doesn’t let anyone get close to him. But when I get little glimpses of his

hidden warmth and compassion, I feel that inner wall of mine start to

crumble.

“All right, let’s get this class started,” Antoine says.

Antoine has set up a little stage in the front of the room. “You

two,” he says, pointing to us. “Stand here and pose.”

Carlos gets on the stage first, then grabs my hand and helps me up.

“Now what?” Carlos asks.

“We’re supposed to pose,” I whisper.

“How?”

Antoine pounds his hand on the stage, getting our attention. “I’ll

tell you how. Kiara, grab his shoulders. Carlos, hold her around her

waist.”

We do as he instructs. “Like this?” I ask, trying to ignore what

Carlos’s hands feel like holding me.

“You look like you’re afraid to get close to each other,” Antoine

says. “You’re too stiff. Kiara, lean toward Carlos with your upper body.

Yes, that’s it. Now bend one knee . . . Carlos, make sure you support her

weight or else she’ll fall . . . Kiara, look up at him as if you’re in love,

waiting for that promise of a kiss . . . and Carlos, you look down at her

as if Kiara is the cowgirl you’ve been waiting for your entire life.

Perfect!” he says. “Now don’t move for the next half hour.” He turns to

the residents of The Highlands and talks about silhouettes and the

human form . . . but all I can do is get lost in Carlos’s eyes.

“You were great with the residents,” I tell him. “I appreciate you

being here.”

“And I appreciate you wearin’ that dress.”

For the next half hour as we’re trying not to move, I’m gazing into

Carlos’s deep dark eyes and he’s looking into mine. Even though my body

is starting to feel stiff, I feel safe and happy. There’s nothing else I

can do except to say, “I’ve made a decision.”

“About what?”