The Crushes (2 page)

Kelly Waters got out of her car, looked to the Family Center Gym straight ahead and then to the McDonald’s off to her right. Stupid Big Macs. Why did they have to be so good? She locked her car and headed inside the gym, trying to ignore the scent of French fries enticing her to join the dark side.

If the extra padding at her hips and beneath her biceps and on her thighs and—everywhere else on her body—was any indication, Kelly really,
really
didn’t need to ingest more junk food.

It was time for a diet. Maybe if she hadn’t spent the last several months as a single woman eating too much ice cream and watching way too much TV, she wouldn’t have gained ten pounds.

Thankfully, once she got inside the gym, the enclosed space and air-conditioning blocked out the divine scent of fast food. A woman in her late twenties with a pink ribbon in her hair greeted Kelly from behind the counter. “How can I help you today?”

Kelly threw her car keys in her backpack. “I’m here for a kickboxing lesson. My brother won it in a radio station contest, and he told me I could use a couple of his lessons. I mean, if that’s okay with you guys.”

“Sure.” The woman flipped through several files in a wire rack on her desk. She pulled out one marked C
ONTESTS
and had Kelly sign a chart beneath several other names. “What was your brother’s name?” the woman asked. “I need to mark down that one of his lessons was used.”

“Todd Waters.”

The woman wrote down Todd’s name and the date. “You’re all set, then. You can go ahead into workout room one, and I’ll let Adam know you’re here.”

“Thanks.” Kelly followed the plastic signs that said W
ORKOUT
R
OOMS
down a hall and to the left. There she found several doors labeled one through six. The door on room one was open and she went inside.

Her tennis shoes squeaked on freshly polished pine floors. The sun shone through tinted glass on the wall of windows across from her. In the far corner were two blue mats, probably for tumbling.

Kelly set her bag in the corner and went to the windows.

Someone cleared his throat behind Kelly. She whirled around.

“You aren’t Todd,” the guy said.

Kelly couldn’t even shake her head. When Todd offered the free kickboxing lessons, Kelly had assumed she’d get a thirty-something woman as an instructor with an intense attitude and muscles to match.

She’d assumed wrong. This guy was very,
very
close to oh-my-god hot. Kelly couldn’t pull her eyes away from his
extremely
toned biceps or his
extremely
defined abs. It didn’t help that he was wearing one of those stretchy shirts that stuck to every crease of muscle on his upper torso.

“So, where is Todd?” he said.

“Um…well…” Her heart was beating rapidly in her head. She could hardly hear herself think. “I’m his brother.” She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. “I mean, he’s my brother. He asked me to come today in his place.”

The guy shook his head. “So he doesn’t lose his free sessions. I get it.” He approached Kelly, giving her a better view of his face. He had one of those perfect, straight-arrow noses and marble green eyes. Even relaxed, his dark brow etched into a scowl. Dark brown hair fanned into a deliberate mess. The sunlight shining through the windows turned his chin stubble golden.

Kelly couldn’t tell how old he was—maybe eighteen or nineteen. Either way he seemed light years out of her league. He might even have been out of Raven’s league, and she was like an exotic model lost in East Coast suburbia.

“I’m Adam,” he said.

Kelly nodded in acknowledgment. Now she was beginning to fear her clumsiness. What if she fell on her butt in front of this guy? She’d feel like a total freak. There was still time to escape, wasn’t there?

“Let’s get started, then.” Adam opened a closet and dragged out sparring gear. “These are boxing gloves,” he said, holding one out for Kelly to slip into. “Despite the fact that it’s called kickboxing, you’ll be using both your hands and your feet.”

Once Kelly’s hands were in the gloves, Adam slipped round black pads onto his hands.

“Ready?” He clapped the pads together and then squared his feet.

“Yeah,” Kelly said when really, she was nowhere near ready.

An hour later, Kelly was sweating more than she ever had in her life. Her legs were sore. Her arms were dead, but she felt great. Not only was Adam an awesome instructor, but he never once made her feel weak or dumb. Even when she stumbled on a kick and nearly fell over.

“So,” Adam began as he put away the gear, “tell your brother to show up next time or I’m kicking his butt.”

Kelly scooped up her bag and smiled. “I’d like to watch that, actually.”

Adam laughed. “If you keep up with lessons,
you
might be able to kick his butt.”

Kelly smiled. “That’s true.” She waved good-bye.

By the time she hit the heat outdoors, she’d already come up with five excuses to get her brother out of kickboxing next week. He was so done at Family Center, and Kelly was a new, loyal member.

Raven Valenti sat back in the driver’s seat of her car and closed her eyes, rubbing her hands over her face. She didn’t want to be here now, in the airport drop-off zone sending Horace to Detroit.

“Do you really have to go?” she said, looking over at him now in the passenger seat.

They’d been together just a few short months. Not to mention it was summer break! She wanted to hang out with him and make beautiful, sweet music.

Okay, maybe that was a little cheesy, but it was the truth. Their band, October, was doing so well. Ever since they played open-mike night at Scrappe, they were busy most weekends playing gigs. Why stop now when they were so popular? Couldn’t Horace go to his dad’s later? Like next year?

“It’s only a month,” Horace said, grabbing Raven’s hand. The worn leather cord wrapped around his wrist tickled her arm. “My dad would be bummed if I didn’t show up,” he finished.

With her free hand, Raven tugged on the charm necklace hanging from her neck. Horace had given it to her just a few days ago. The charm was a sterling silver musical note. It was simple, but it meant a lot to her.

Caleb, her ex-boyfriend, had never bought her something meaningful. It just proved that Horace was the sweetest guy Raven had ever had, which was exactly why she was so afraid of screwing something up.

With him gone, she was doubly likely to screw something up. Horace kept her sane and grounded. If he was all the way in Detroit, how could he keep her from doing something stupid?

She sighed and squeezed Horace’s hand.

Please don’t let me screw this up, she thought.

Horace leaned over and kissed her softly. Raven still got butterflies every time they locked lips. They hadn’t said “I love you” yet, but right now, she had the urge to pull away and whisper it. Probably Horace wouldn’t even flinch, probably he’d say it back, but Raven was afraid of exchanging sentiments.

She wasn’t out of the danger zone just yet and saying “I love you” would only make it worse when she messed up.

No, no,
if
I mess up. Because I’m going to do everything in my power
not
to mess up.

“I have to go,” Horace said.

Raven nodded and tugged again on her necklace. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too. I’ll text every day, okay?”

“Okay.”

He got out of the car and grabbed his bag from the trunk. Raven followed him to the doors of the airport. People rushed in and out. A taxi honked its horn behind Raven.

She wrapped her arms around Horace’s neck, tears biting at her eyes. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t cry, but sending Horace off like this was more painful than she’d imagined.

Horace leaned his forehead against hers, his reddish-blond hair tangling with her own dark hair to form a curtain between them and the busy airport traffic. “I love you, Ray,” he breathed.

Raven’s stomach knotted into a million double knots. She felt ill and exhilarated all at the same time. She should have known this was coming. It was the perfect moment and Horace was good at spotting them.

She did love Horace, she loved him more than she’d ever loved any of her boyfriends. Saying “I love you” wasn’t a big deal. It was the responsibility of the trust that went with it. That’s what scared her.

She kissed him quickly on the lips and whispered, “I love you, too.”

Horace was only going to be gone for a month. How much could really happen in that short a time?

Raven went into her mother’s workroom. Mrs. Valenti sat at her desk flipping through pages and pages of stickers. Raven’s little sister, Jordan, sat on the couch chatting on her cell phone.

“Hi,” Raven said, plopping down next to Jordan. Jordan whispered, “Hey,” before turning back to her phone conversation.

“What are you up to today?” Mrs. Valenti asked.

“I’m meeting my friends at Bershetti’s for a late lunch. After that, I’m not sure.”

Jordan got off the phone. “Speaking of Bershetti’s, I applied there today.”

“I still don’t know why you won’t work at Scrappe,” Mrs. Valenti said.

Scrappe was her coffee shop/scrapbooking store. Raven worked there about twenty hours a week with Horace. She liked it, despite the fact that her mother was her boss. Jordan said she’d rather clean public bathrooms with her toothbrush than work at Scrappe.

Her reasoning? “I get enough of Mom bossing me around at home. I would totally go bonkers if she bossed me around at work, too.”

“If you won’t work at Scrappe, though, Bershetti’s would be nice,” Mrs. Valenti said. “They have a good Italian atmosphere there. You’d fit in nicely.”

Raven and Jordan were half Italian, and their mother never let them forget it. Jordan looked just like their mother. Raven looked more like their father, who was African American, though she did have the Italian Valenti hair.

“There’s a totally cute boy that works at Bershetti’s, too,” Jordan said. “Have you seen him?”

Raven shook her head. “I haven’t been in there in a while. What’s his name?”

“Nicholas. Nicholas Bershetti.” Jordan nearly went starry-eyed. “He goes to the private school on the upper north side.”

“Chisholm Academy?”

“Yeah.” She grinned. “Private school makes him so much hotter.”

Raven rolled her eyes. “Most private school boys are snots.”

“Well, Nick isn’t.” Color touched Jordan’s cheeks. There was a permanent smile on her face. She was practically glowing.

Part of Raven was envious. She missed that feeling that came with having a crush. Excitement, trepidation, optimism. As if anything could happen.

But Raven had someone now. Someone extremely good to her.

Probably that was better than the crushin’ feeling. Yeah, definitely better.

Raven threw the bag of trash in the big trash can and closed the lid to wheel it out to the street. She hated this chore. She’d tried getting out of it by hurrying out of the house to meet her friends, but her mother caught her at the back door.

“Before you leave,” Mrs. Valenti said, “make sure you take out the trash.”

Raven grabbed hold of the handle, tipped the can back on the two wheels, and lugged the thing out from behind
the garage. She rounded the back corner of the house and heard a scraping noise coming from the street. It was like metal scraping against wood.

Someone rode a skateboard down the street toward a homemade railing about knee height. He jumped and slid the skateboard down the railing.

Raven watched as he made a perfect landing and then kicked the board up with a foot.

It wasn’t until he looked over at her that she realized she’d stopped in the middle of the driveway to gawk.

“Hey,” he said, tipping his head.

“Hi.” Raven tried to kick-start her brain into thinking again and dragged the trash can the rest of the way down the drive. She set it along the curb and was about to hurry inside, when the boy skated over to her.

“You live here?” he asked.

She pursed her lips and nodded.

The boy was new to her. She’d never seen him around town before, let alone on her street.

Blue eyes peered at her from beneath the straight brim of a DC baseball hat. He had on baggy jeans, a black T-shirt, and white DC shoes. The skateboard slung beneath an arm said B
LAKE
across the length of it with a silhouette of an alien at the bottom.

From what Raven could see beneath the baseball hat, his dark hair was cropped close to his scalp.

“My grandpa lives across the street.” He pointed over his shoulder at the two-story Tudor. That was Mr. Kailing’s house. Raven didn’t know he had grandchildren. He mostly kept to himself and never had people over. He was nice, though. Last summer when Raven had a flat tire, Mr.
Kailing had come out and changed it for her. He might have been close to seventy, but he still got around well.

“Your grandfather, huh? That’s nice,” she said, nodding quickly. “Well, I have to go.”

“Hey, Blake!” someone called.

The boy, presumably Blake, glanced at Mr. Kailing’s house and Raven couldn’t help but look, too. The man who’d yelled from the front porch had one of those deep, husky voices that you couldn’t help but follow.

A large black man waved from the porch.

“That’s my…uh…uncle,” Blake said.

Raven raised her brow. “Really?”

Blake
looked
one hundred percent white, but maybe he had some African American in him? Like Raven. Mr. Kailing was white, but that didn’t mean one of Blake’s parents wasn’t black.

Blake dropped the skateboard and put a foot on it. “It was nice meeting you…”

“Raven.”

He smiled. “Raven.” He propelled the board forward with his left foot. “I’ll see ya ’round, Raven,” he called over a shoulder before disappearing inside Mr. Kailing’s garage.

The man standing on the porch waved Raven a peace sign before heading back inside. The screen door closed behind him.

Raven went inside her own house and passed Jordan in the living room.

“Why are you grinning like a goon?” Jordan said.

“What? I’m not.”

But she was.