The Secrets of Attraction (27 page)

I froze mid-step, heart jumping into my throat. Jess was there, on the couch, staring into the fireplace. He nodded out for a moment, dozing.

Stop pretending,
chica.
You didn't come out here for cake.

I moved toward him, cleared my throat so I wouldn't completely freak him out. He jolted awake, sitting up when he saw me.

“Hey.” He ran a hand through his hair.

“Hi,” I said. His eyes moved across me, taking in my black fleece PJ bottoms with the fluorescent hearts, my thin white tee. I crossed my arms.

“You're still up.”
Um, duh, Mads.

“Barely.”

I flopped in the corner opposite him, curling my legs up underneath me. The fire made my skin feel tight, warm, and dry. The flames were hypnotic.

“I can't stop thinking about the way you played that song.” I finally said.

He laughed. “You missed the clunker notes.”

“No, clunkers and all, it was . . . You were . . .”

He waited for me to say more, but I couldn't find the words. Nothing could describe it.

“Where do you go?” I asked.

“Hmm?”

“When you play, when you close your eyes it looks like you're whispering or something . . . you're gone.” After I voiced it, the question sounded ridiculous. He stared into the fire, a small smile crossing his lips.

“C'mon,” he said, standing up.

“What?”

“Let me show you what it feels like.” For a moment I was disoriented. This was Stage Jesse, confident, holding out his hand to me, letting me in on his secret. What was he going to do? “Go get your boots on.”

Not what I'd expected.

I went back to my room, pulled on my boots, and met him by the front door, heart racing. Where were we headed? He had on his hoodie, a patchwork quilt slung over his shoulder.

“Here,” he said, handing me his leather jacket. I put it on, zipping it up to my chin this time, and followed him out into the frigid night.

My eyes finally adjusted to the dark, as we walked down a dirt path that cut between the barns. Soft whinnies echoed through the slats in the stalls, the sweet smell of hay and sting of manure made my nose itch. Aside from that, everything was still, peaceful, except for our feet scuffing against the hard road. Questions raced through my mind, but it felt like talking would interrupt something.

Jesse veered off the road, walking into a vast, grassy field bordered by a forest and looking over his shoulder to make sure I was following him.

“Be careful where you step,” he said.

“How can I even see anything?”

“Oh, you'll feel it when you step in a pile of something,” he said, chuckling. He looked up toward the sky and spun around, fanning out the blanket and letting it fall onto the field. “This will do.”

“For what?”

He knelt down, patted the space next to him. “Dude, have I let you down at all today?”

I sighed, easing my way down onto the blanket. It was cold. Correction: effing cold. But I was curious. I knelt down, kind of rolled onto my butt, ignoring the cold seeping through the fleece jammies.

“Now what?”

He smiled, dropping down so he was flat on his back, hands folded on his chest. I went down on my elbows, sliding onto my back.

“So you go out to a horse pasture when you close your eyes?” I asked.

“Duh.”

“Well?”

“What are you feeling, right now?”

“Freezing.”

“Aside from that.”

“I don't know . . . that the sky is so pretty. We see more out here than where we live because of all the pollution and lights, but then that sort of bums me out because the pollution makes me feel so helpless.”

“Okay . . . right. Nothing more?”

I sighed. “It's all so big and beautiful and blah, blah, blah.”

He laughed. “The
blah, blah, blah
is what everyone is afraid to let in.”

There it was . . . that letting-in phrase again. What was I afraid to let in? This?

“I feel so small—like when I'm sitting here and looking up, I realize that nothing is ever still, those stars are constantly imploding and dying and new ones are born, and we're on some spinning hunk of rock in the middle of a galaxy and when you look at it that way, hell, you realize how insignificant we really are, and it's scary, but then you wonder, how can we be alone? It's pure arrogance to think we're all alone in the universe, and it's a nice thought—the not being alone.

“But then someone hurts you, or pushes you into a locker, or breaks your heart, and you realize how alone you are, and it blows. And it's that uncertainty that makes us all batshit crazy, right? What does life mean? What if it means nothing? Well, when I'm playing . . . when I close my eyes, it's like for a split second, just a sip of time, I understand stuff and I'm part of everything. And I know there's something more—can physically feel connected to it, can feel it going through me. So that's it, that's where I go when it looks like I'm whispering. I know it sounds weird but I think everyone has something like that, you know? I think you have it when you draw. I saw it today in your eyes, when you showed me your version of that house. It was fucking brilliant.”

Time stood still in
that
moment. Listening to Jesse talk, the intensity behind his words, the mystery of the night sky, even the cold—it all filled me. Jazz popped into my head, her sparkly, magical love glitter . . . a person cracking open. Jesse had always been open, with his smile, his foam art at Mugshot, when he played the guitar—I was the one cracking open into a whole other person.

“Please, say something.”

“I think the whispering thing is sexy,” I said.

He was silent, but I felt the movement of his head on the blanket as he shifted in my direction.

A star imploding, another one being born. I was cracking open, letting him in, I couldn't stop it.

“Jesse . . . I lied about the birthday thing, about not liking to celebrate. I think because it never lived up to what I thought it should be. That people tried too hard to have a good time or make sure I was happy. This is the birthday I never knew I wanted.”

I turned toward Jesse, knowing when our eyes met that I would be a goner. My lips tingled at the thought of touching his, but a large shadow loomed over him. I sat bolt-upright, my hand covering my mouth in a silent scream.

He shot up too. “What . . . oh, shit..”

Jesse blocked my body with his, laying his hands down on either side of me. I peered over his shoulder, grabbing onto the hood of his sweatshirt.

A massive buck stood about five feet away. Towering over us with long, spindly antlers sprouting treelike from its head. He pawed at the grass and grunted, white tendrils of breath coming from its snout. We sat frozen on the ground, waiting for something to happen.

“Is he going to charge at us or something?” I had visions of being gored with those antlers, right through both of us.
And I never kissed Jesse.

“I don't know,” he whispered.

“Should we run for it?”

“No, just stay still.” He sounded confident, but his heart was pounding as fast as mine. I could feel it through his sweatshirt.

The buck grunted again and lifted its head, frozen a moment except for its ears, which pricked up, twitching. Glassy, dark eyes stared unblinking. I wasn't sure how long we sat like that, but it felt like forever, until more shadows emerged. There were five to ten more deer, walking slowly across the field. Jesse laughed, low. I didn't feel threatened any more, just fascinated. They were beautiful, graceful without even trying. The buck stamped its foot once again before galloping off to join the others.

“Well, that was interesting,” he said, letting out a ragged breath. He leaned back on his hands, legs out in front of him, feet moving back and forth releasing pent-up energy.

My heart still throbbed from the rush. “You sat in front of me.”

“I did,” he said, looking up at the sky. A smile crept across his face.

“Very chivalrous.”

He leaned toward me and nudged me with his shoulder.

“You said I was sexy,” he said, straightening up, still looking at the sky.

I wrapped my arms around my knees, hid my face and laughed. “The whispering thing. I said that whispering thing was sexy.”

He swept his fingers into my hair, raking past my ear to the nape of my neck. I shivered, resting my cheek against my knees so I could look at him.

“You know where else I was when I played that song?”

I shook my head.

He kept his eyes on mine, moving closer. I straightened up, tilted my face toward his. The tip of his nose grazed mine. I closed my eyes, anticipating the kiss, but Jesse only nuzzled my face, his lips brushing my cheek. He kissed my neck, the hollow below my ear, and sent a flood of warmth through me, my skin electric.

“Jess,” I whispered, lips trembling.

He nipped my earlobe. “I was here.”

Kissed my temple. “And here.”

I grabbed a fistful of his sweatshirt, turning toward him. The leather jacket was suddenly awkward and bulky, squeaking as I moved. He hesitated, hands on either side of my face, our foreheads touching. Our eyes were open as our lips touched, lightly at first. Jesse closed his eyes, kissing me full on the mouth, his tongue coaxing my lips open, as we fell back side by side, onto the blanket, our legs tangling up together.

Broody Barista could
kiss
.

I unzipped my jacket, grabbed his hand, and brought it toward my waist.

“Mmmmmm,” he moaned, moving his hand up my back and pulling me against him. We kissed that way for a while, shifting positions, dissolving into each other. The air nipped at the sliver of bare skin between my tee and PJ bottoms. Reality.

“Jess,” I said between kisses, “I can't feel my fingers.”

He laughed and grabbed my icy hand, enfolded it in his. “Same here.”

“Do you think . . . maybe,” I said, hesitating. What did I want? I wanted more of this, of him, but where? Could I really ask him back to my room? It felt odd.

He looked toward the house. “No one's awake, we could . . .”

“Sneak into my room . . .” I said.

He touched his forehead to mine.

I continued. “Not to, you know . . . just . . . There's a door, that can shut . . .”

“Exactly,” he finished, kissing the now-frozen tip of my nose, my lips again.

Jesse stood up first, held out a hand and pulled me to standing. He gathered the blanket and threw it around both our shoulders as we headed toward the house. It looked so far away. He stopped and pulled me in for another kiss, before we decided to run for it. Tromping up the stairs, I was dizzy at the thought of picking up where we'd left off. He opened the door. We were greeted by three little fur faces, panting and wagging their hello. Aunt Julia was in the kitchen, stirring a pot on the stove.

“I couldn't sleep. Anyone want cocoa? You guys look frozen.”

Jess and I looked at each other and laughed.

“That sounds great, Aunt Julia,” he said.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

THE SMELL OF COFFEE AND BACON NUDGED ME
awake. And then a flash of last night—kissing Madison—had it really happened? That five minutes—or five seconds—seemed like an eternity. Then, our night cut short.

I could just hear Tanner . . .

Dude, cock-blocked by cocoa? Epic.

Not that there would have been enough of anything going on to block, but the thought of being alone with Madison made a beat pump through my brain. When would that happen again? Last night had been perfect, like stars and planets aligned perfectly. Was it Fallingwater? The chocolate cake? My guitar playing? A magical combination of everything? God—the way she looked at me—being around her was a total rush.

Charlie burst through his door.

“C'mon, everyone's awake. Breakfast!” He raced out of his room with more enthusiasm than anyone should be allowed to have in the morning. I grabbed a shirt and made a pit stop in the bathroom to gargle with a swig of mouthwash before heading out to the kitchen. Madison was up already, talking to Sara as they sat side by side at the table.

Dead puppies, Great Whites, genital warts. Be cool, Jess.

My smile was a force that could not be stopped.

I grabbed a plate and sat across from Madison.

Don't stare.

Her presence was a magnet pull. It took all my effort not to look at her because once I did, I knew I'd just start laughing or dropping silverware or losing all control over my senses because all I wanted to do was swipe the breakfast dishes away and continue where we left off last night.

“I taught my friend how to do a fishtail braid, so yes, your hair is perfect for that,” Madison said to Sara. “Hey, Jess, we have time before we go, right? I can fix Sara's hair?”