I hesitate, then play along. “Fine. I’m not going with you to Luka’s because I don’t get how you can go there and spend the evening shooting things when we already do so much of that.”
“Zombies aren’t aliens.” When I don’t answer he says, “Maybe I like FPS games because we do so much of that. Playing one in real life sort of lessens the importance of . . . the game we play in our other life.”
Strangely, I understand what he means. But I’m not sure I feel the same way. I don’t want to lessen the impact of the game. It’s life or death. I’m not sure I ought to forget that, even for a minute.
He leans in for another kiss, his lips lingering on mine, his tongue teasing the corners of my mouth.
“Stop,” I say with a laugh. “I am getting out. Now.” I nudge the door wider with my foot.
“One thing,” he says, taking the cardboard box off my lap. “We need to discuss costumes.”
“Costumes?”
“For the Halloween dance.”
My heart does a little dance of its own. Is he asking me to the dance? Or just asking about the dance. Flustered, I stammer, “Carly, Kelley, and Dee are going as condiments.”
His brows shoot up. “I don’t even want to know.” He pauses. “In case I wasn’t clear, we’re going together.”
“We being you and Carly and Kelley and Dee?”
“Funny.” He pauses. “You and me.”
“That’s how you ask me out?” I ask, breathless.
“I wasn’t asking.”
Typical Jackson. “Last word?”
He gives me that dark, sexy smile, the one that carves the dimple in his cheek and carves a doorway into my soul. “Last word.”
My insides melt, but I try not to show it. “Not this time. You have to ask. And that smile doesn’t win you any points.”
He slides a finger under the taped edge of the box in his hand.
“What are you doing?” I lunge for it, but he moves it out of my reach. Then he slides his finger under the tape holding down the opposite side. “Those are not for you, Jackson.”
“I love it when you’re bossy. And I’m holding these hostage. Answer, or I eat them all.”
I drop my backpack out the open door onto the ground and crawl across the seat, which leaves me half-sprawled across Jackson’s chest as I reach for the box.
“Go to the dance with me,” he whispers, nuzzling my neck.
“Fine. Now give me the box.”
“Fine? That’s how you answer?”
I close my eyes as he traces his nose along my jaw and inhales against my skin. “I’d love to go to the Halloween dance with you. Better?”
“Much.”
I open my eyes. “Good. Now give me the box.”
“If I can’t have a taste of these, I get to take a taste of you.” He sinks his teeth gently into the spot where my neck and shoulder meet.
I elbow him in the stomach. And hit rock-hard muscle.
“You tightened up,” I accuse.
“Gotta protect myself. You’re a force to be reckoned with.” He kisses me one last time and says, “Go, while I can still make myself let you.” Last word. Typical Jackson.
He calls after me through the window as I head up the walk, “Hey, Miki . . .”
I stop and turn.
“You’ll never be that girl. And I’ll never try to turn you into her.”
He presses two fingers to his lips, and then holds them out toward me. Then he puts the Jeep in gear and pulls away.
I stand there watching until his taillights disappear, then I head up the walk and ring the doorbell, my homework-laden backpack slung over my shoulder, the white cardboard box held in front like an offering. The two curved pieces on the sides flap up and down because Jackson slit open the tape and left it that way. There’s a cry of, “I’ll get it,” from beyond the door and then the click of the lock being turned.
The door swings open and Carly stands there, her hair in a high ponytail, her brother’s sweats swallowing her, loose and comfy. For a second, her expression’s completely unguarded, and there’s no mistaking her unbridled happiness when she sees me.
I grin back at her, feeling like we’re just Carly and Miki, exactly as we’ve always been.
Then the balloon pops. Used to be I could head over to Carly’s anytime and it would be like she was expecting me, even if she wasn’t. Now, as Kelley and Sarah step up behind her, I feel like an outsider. It only gets worse when Dee wanders up the hall. She’s not in their Spanish class, so she’s just here to hang with them, not to work on their project. I take a deep breath. The only way to fix this is to stop acting like I’m separate and apart.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey,” Carly says. Her gaze dips to the box and the distinctive Sugar Hill logo. “You’re kidding,” she breathes. “You are kidding.”
“Not kidding.” I ease the box toward her, the smell of cupcakes wafting up. “You gonna let me in? Cuz that’s the only way these cupcakes are crossing the threshold.”
“A bribe?”
“Totally.”
“Depends on the flavors,” Carly says with a grin and a wink.
“S’mores, banana cream pie, chocolate raspberry, vanilla éclair, Roc City crunch, and lemon cheesecake. Two of each.”
“A dozen cupcakes?” Kelley moans. She presses her palms together and holds her fingers to her lips.
“Zombies aren’t aliens.” When I don’t answer he says, “Maybe I like FPS games because we do so much of that. Playing one in real life sort of lessens the importance of . . . the game we play in our other life.”
Strangely, I understand what he means. But I’m not sure I feel the same way. I don’t want to lessen the impact of the game. It’s life or death. I’m not sure I ought to forget that, even for a minute.
He leans in for another kiss, his lips lingering on mine, his tongue teasing the corners of my mouth.
“Stop,” I say with a laugh. “I am getting out. Now.” I nudge the door wider with my foot.
“One thing,” he says, taking the cardboard box off my lap. “We need to discuss costumes.”
“Costumes?”
“For the Halloween dance.”
My heart does a little dance of its own. Is he asking me to the dance? Or just asking about the dance. Flustered, I stammer, “Carly, Kelley, and Dee are going as condiments.”
His brows shoot up. “I don’t even want to know.” He pauses. “In case I wasn’t clear, we’re going together.”
“We being you and Carly and Kelley and Dee?”
“Funny.” He pauses. “You and me.”
“That’s how you ask me out?” I ask, breathless.
“I wasn’t asking.”
Typical Jackson. “Last word?”
He gives me that dark, sexy smile, the one that carves the dimple in his cheek and carves a doorway into my soul. “Last word.”
My insides melt, but I try not to show it. “Not this time. You have to ask. And that smile doesn’t win you any points.”
He slides a finger under the taped edge of the box in his hand.
“What are you doing?” I lunge for it, but he moves it out of my reach. Then he slides his finger under the tape holding down the opposite side. “Those are not for you, Jackson.”
“I love it when you’re bossy. And I’m holding these hostage. Answer, or I eat them all.”
I drop my backpack out the open door onto the ground and crawl across the seat, which leaves me half-sprawled across Jackson’s chest as I reach for the box.
“Go to the dance with me,” he whispers, nuzzling my neck.
“Fine. Now give me the box.”
“Fine? That’s how you answer?”
I close my eyes as he traces his nose along my jaw and inhales against my skin. “I’d love to go to the Halloween dance with you. Better?”
“Much.”
I open my eyes. “Good. Now give me the box.”
“If I can’t have a taste of these, I get to take a taste of you.” He sinks his teeth gently into the spot where my neck and shoulder meet.
I elbow him in the stomach. And hit rock-hard muscle.
“You tightened up,” I accuse.
“Gotta protect myself. You’re a force to be reckoned with.” He kisses me one last time and says, “Go, while I can still make myself let you.” Last word. Typical Jackson.
He calls after me through the window as I head up the walk, “Hey, Miki . . .”
I stop and turn.
“You’ll never be that girl. And I’ll never try to turn you into her.”
He presses two fingers to his lips, and then holds them out toward me. Then he puts the Jeep in gear and pulls away.
I stand there watching until his taillights disappear, then I head up the walk and ring the doorbell, my homework-laden backpack slung over my shoulder, the white cardboard box held in front like an offering. The two curved pieces on the sides flap up and down because Jackson slit open the tape and left it that way. There’s a cry of, “I’ll get it,” from beyond the door and then the click of the lock being turned.
The door swings open and Carly stands there, her hair in a high ponytail, her brother’s sweats swallowing her, loose and comfy. For a second, her expression’s completely unguarded, and there’s no mistaking her unbridled happiness when she sees me.
I grin back at her, feeling like we’re just Carly and Miki, exactly as we’ve always been.
Then the balloon pops. Used to be I could head over to Carly’s anytime and it would be like she was expecting me, even if she wasn’t. Now, as Kelley and Sarah step up behind her, I feel like an outsider. It only gets worse when Dee wanders up the hall. She’s not in their Spanish class, so she’s just here to hang with them, not to work on their project. I take a deep breath. The only way to fix this is to stop acting like I’m separate and apart.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey,” Carly says. Her gaze dips to the box and the distinctive Sugar Hill logo. “You’re kidding,” she breathes. “You are kidding.”
“Not kidding.” I ease the box toward her, the smell of cupcakes wafting up. “You gonna let me in? Cuz that’s the only way these cupcakes are crossing the threshold.”
“A bribe?”
“Totally.”
“Depends on the flavors,” Carly says with a grin and a wink.
“S’mores, banana cream pie, chocolate raspberry, vanilla éclair, Roc City crunch, and lemon cheesecake. Two of each.”
“A dozen cupcakes?” Kelley moans. She presses her palms together and holds her fingers to her lips.
