He stuffs his hands in his pockets when I see him. He’s wearing green underneath his black jacket—the same green he wore when he stopped wearing black. The corner of his mouth perks up as I open the door.
Without a minute’s hesitation, he scoops me up in his arms. I cling like there’s no tomorrow, filling to the brim with big buttery popcorn kernels.
“I missed you,” I blubber behind his back.
He moves us inside, shutting the door behind him while I clutch his shoulders. I’m not letting go. I’m afraid if I do, he’ll disappear.
“Aww . . .” he teases. “I’ve missed you too, Stinky.”
I squeeze tighter when I feel him letting go. His laughter shakes our bodies, and I catch a whiff of his perfect orange scent on his jacket. “Did you get abducted by aliens in Hawaii? I was expecting a smack to the back of the head or snide remark or something.”
I can’t give him any of that right now. Way too nervous for witty comebacks.
“Hey, are you okay?” he asks, catching onto the fear that’s probably smoking out of my pores.
Shaking my head against his chest, the first of many tears I’m sure are coming, drop out. “I’m super-supersorry for everything. For choosing the alibi thing over you. I was wrong.” Yes, I just admitted I was . . . wrong. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you how I felt. How I really felt.” Great. I just spit that out there, making me sound so please-take-me-back-or-I’ll-die!
His hands wrap around my cheeks, lifting my face. “Did you really give it up?”
I nod, a few tears dropping onto his thumbs.
“For me?” His voice hitches in just the two words, making the popcorn in my belly get a dose of hot butter poured over it.
“For us,” I whisper. “I-I love you.”
Now I know how he must’ve felt when he said it to me and I said nothing. Because I’m standing here with my heart smacked in his palms and he’s just staring at it. I feel like I should say something else, but not sure what.
I blink out a tear from each eye and catch his gray eyes growing darker. He leans his forehead against mine, and says, “Why are you crying?”
Shaking my head and letting out a tiny chuckle, I shrug. “I don’t know! Because you make me feel all this stuff I’m not used to. It’s scary.”
“What are you scared of?”
“That I’m too late,” I say as his hands move from my face to my fingers. “That you don’t need me anymore. That you don’t love me anymore.”
“Does it feel that way?”
I shrug.
“Kel . . .”
His fingers wrap around mine and he steps forward so our chests press together. He’s not saying anything, but in a way, he’s saying everything. That he’s in just as übergooby love as I am.
“No, I guess it doesn’t feel that way.”
He smiles. “Then don’t let it scare you.”
I huff, pulling my hands from his and crossing my arms. “Will you just say it?”
“What?” he says, pretending to be all innocent. He’s enjoying this way too much.
“Come on. Humor me. I just want to hear it so I know I’m not misreading things.”
“You’re not misreading anything.” He tucks an arm around my waist and pulls me in. He’s got that cocky grin on his lips, and even when he’s being all smart with me, I want to kiss him.
I scrunch up my face. Oh he gets me frustrated and gooey warm all at once. And he so knows it.
He laughs at my expression, smoothing out the line I get in my forehead.
“All right, Kel.” His lips inch closer to mine and I think my heart decides to rent out a bouncy house to do somersaults in. “I love you.”
Everything inside me is squealing to the highest decibel possible, but my stubborn attitude says, “Dang straight, you do.”
He chuckles before giving me a peck on the lips. What? A peck? Come on, Chase. You know I want more than that. Especially after so long.
He gives me teasing eyes and smiles like he knows I’m begging for more, and he’s waiting for me to make the move.
Dang this sexy boy I’m in love with!
I yank his neck, bringing his lips back to mine. Everything about his kiss is familiar, but it’s still different, because this is the first time I’m kissing him knowing I’m in love with him. Allowing myself to feel more than the physical, but the emotional too. My heart pulls toward him like he’s the one thing holding me to the ground.
He picks me up, holding me with one hand under my butt and the other stroking my cheek. I owe Sades some major presents whenever I see her again.
We break apart, his eyes so dark gray they look black. I smile knowing he’s just as mind-blowingly happy as I am.
“Hey Chase?”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you.”
“For?”
“Saving me, too.”
He smiles and kisses me again, and though I like having my legs around his waist, I wish I was standing so I could pull him to my bed. Forget the rule about it.
We break apart to catch our breaths, and I keep my forehead on his. “Will you ask me out on a date?”
He laughs. “Sure. How’s next Friday?”
I smack the back of his head. “You know I mean another day.”
“Tomorrow good for you?”
I nod, giving him the biggest grin. He traces his finger across it.
“Will you stay for a while?” I ask, hopping off him.
“Are your parents home?”
“No. They will be in like an hour though.”
“Then we better start making out now so you get all those sexy loud noises out of your system.”
I punch him in the gut, cutting off his laughter. He catches my wrist and pulls my hands under his jacket. “I’ll stay for a bit,” he says, all joking gone and kisses my forehead.
I pull him to the foot of the bed and plop down on the floor. “You should probably know, my dad wants to meet you.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You told him about me?”
“Well, he saw the hickey, and it may have come up.”
His face turns to a bright shade of red. “So, I have to meet this guy who knows I gave his daughter a hickey?”
I nod, stifling back the huge burst of laughter in my chest.
“This should be interesting. He doesn’t have a gun, does he?”
“No, but he does have a lot of sharp knives.”
He gulps. “Thanks, that’s real comforting.”
I sidle closer to him, pulling his arm over my shoulders. “I’m worth it, right?”
“Definitely.” He kisses me again, and even though it’s going to be scary introducing this very non-Sundale guy with stubble on his chin—and who gave me the Purple Monster—to my parents, he’s worth it, too.
He tugs me into his side and something hard and round digs into my hip.
“Ow!” I squeal, breaking from his lips. “What the heck is in your pocket?”
His ears flame up as he reaches in, pulling out an orange.
“I just . . . you know, in case you wanted . . . orange flavored . . .”
I laugh, getting off the floor and grabbing the garbage to put the peel in. “It’s not a condom. No need to be nervous.” I wink.
“Well, I have that too, if you want . . .”
The orange slips out from my fingers. What?!
Now it’s his turn to laugh. “I’m kidding. No need to be nervous.”
I kick him in the butt before sitting down next to him again. He was totally right about there being an “us.” Teasing, flirting, and being in love in our own way. He shrugs his jacket off and I spin the orange in my palm.
“It’s always the good kind of nervous around you,” I say, leaning against his chest.
His arms fold around me, one of his hands running along my thigh. I knew he’d like these pants. Just like I knew he’d tell me about his brother, and I knew he’d ask me out when I told him it’s what I wanted. And
how I knew, before he said it out loud, that he loved me too. Because unlike all the other people I keep at a distance, I know him. And I want to keep knowing him as long as I can.
He rubs my thigh, playing with the fabric. His voice filters into my ear, sending chills—the good kind—up and down my spine.
“Hurry up with that orange.”
Acknowledgments
Thank you reader, for making it all the way to this page and for understanding my sense of humor.
Thank you orange tree, for making such a kissable fruit.
Thank you Mommy, Jenny, and Becki, for drafting the original Ice Cream Contract.
Thank you to my best buds, Hope Roberson, Jade Hart, Jenny Morris, Kelley Lynn, Leigh Covington, Theresa Paolo, Suzi Retzlaff, Rachel Schieffelbein, Jessica Salyer, Jennie Bennett, and Jolene Perry for always being willing to look at a million drafts of my books, for kicking my butt in writing gear, and for the virtual hugs and chest bumps. I love you girls.
Thank you Brittany Booker, for being Agent Extraordinaire, for emailing me with LOL’s and smiley faces, and working so hard for my books.
Thank you Sue Grimshaw, for fighting for me, for scary editing notes, and for loving my books as much as I do.
Thank you Random House team, for making me feel like some sort of celebrity, even though I’m typing these acknowledgments in my pajamas at four in the afternoon.
Thank you children, for keeping the house messy, so I have something to do when I have writer’s block.
Thank you to anyone I missed in these acknowledgments, for understanding Mommy Mind.
And lastly, thank you to my Joshy, for giving me a Starlight Mint first kiss, for kicking my butt when we play HALO, and for not shaving every day. You are the reason I write romance.
Cassie Mae, YA and NA author, is a nerd to the core from Utah, who likes to write about other nerds who find love. Her angel children and perfect husband fan her and feed her grapes while she clacks away on the keyboard. Then she wakes up from that dream world and manages to get a few words on the computer while the house explodes around her. When she’s not writing, she’s spending time with the youth in her community as a volleyball and basketball coach, or searching the house desperately for chocolate.
Cassie Mae, Friday Night Alibi
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