“So get your stuff together. We’re going shopping. I want you to make authentic Star Wars stuff. But with your own Sierra flair.”
Sierra smiles wide. “Really? No butt ugly robes?”
Zoe gives her a reassuring pat on the head. “Creative freedom is yours.”
“I think this wedding has just improved by a million degrees.”
They laugh again, and I give my gum a really loud pop so Sierra remembers I’m here, and we’re on a mission to make Adam feel better with word puzzles.
“Oh, shoot!” Sierra turns to me, her cheeks starting to fill with air. I roll my eyes and slide off the bar stool.
“I’ll take care of Adam. Spend time with your sister.”
“We’ll drop you off.”
Zoe nods and smiles at me. I try to smile back, but I have a hard time doing that action naturally. I probably look like I ate a sour Warhead.
I snag my backpack up, and Zoe goes off about Zak’s new job—some computer gig. Something Adam could totally do. And I faze out halfway through and keep quiet in the back of Zoe’s car. I can tell Sierra wants to include me in something, because she keeps trying to change the subject, but Zoe wheels it back around to either Zak, her wedding, or the most recent Star Trek movie.
“So, Brea…” Sierra says, cutting off Zoe from diving into another discussion over Picard and Kirk, and who is the best starship captain. “Have you talked to the gorgeous new guy yet?”
My cheeks fill with heat. “Uh…I think I want to talk more about Captain Kirk.”
Zoe laughs, and Sierra leans around her seat to smack my knee. “Come on. I heard him asking Tamara Revis about a Brea. You’re the only one I know.”
I’m pretty sure my heart shorts out as she grins at me. We had like, a two second conversation. How could he be asking anyone about me?
“I just told him how to get to his last class. It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Apparently he thinks you’re hot.” She grins. “Did you get his name? Or will he forever be known as ‘new guy?’”
I put my foot on the seat and play with my toe ring, staring at it like it will help me get through this conversation without blushing.
“Jay.”
Sierra turns back around, slouching in her seat. “Jay Garrick. Hmm…I like it. It fits him.”
Zoe pops out a laugh as she turns the car down Adam’s street. “Is he a track runner or something?”
Sierra asks exactly what I’m thinking. “What?”
“Jay Garrick.” She looks at us like we should get it, but both Sierra and I stare blank-faced. Zoe laughs again. “The Flash. Jay Garrick is The Flash. Well… one of them.”
“Who the hell is ‘The Flash?’” Sierra asks, and this time I’m the one laughing with Zoe. I may not be as savvy as Zoe is with the comic book stuff, but I do know who The Flash is. Didn’t know his name, but now that I do, my brain quickly goes to different ways I can use that in conversation with Jay. I mean, if I ever talk to him again.
“Is this it?” Zoe asks as we pull up to a yellow house with a chain link fence around it. I nod and unbuckle my belt. Hopefully Adam is okay with just me for a visit. And I hope I don’t catch anything, but I figure I’m doomed to get sick at some point since he kissed me last night.
Wait…he totally kissed me last night. I don’t feel strange about it, but what if he does? What if he’s faking the sick thing because it’s weird?
It’s totally weird now.
Crap.
Crappity crap crap.
“Uh, Brea?” Sierra says, waving a hand in front of my face. I blink out of my daze and unbuckle, fingers suddenly shaking.
“T-thanks for the ride.”
“Sure. If you want, call us and we’ll pick you up too.”
I cock my head at Sierra because I know how she is when she’s shopping. There’s no way I’m staying with Sicky McGee—if he in fact is sick—for four hours. She waves me off, and I wait for them to drive around the corner before walking through Adam’s front gate.
My feet stop on the porch, waiting and waiting for I don’t know… Maybe for my brain to talk myself out of its paranoia. Seriously, it’s just my best bud Adam. He’s sick and I came to see if he’s all right and drop off his homework. That’s it.
Then why does my heart feel like it’s about to melt into my stomach?
***
“Wow. You look like hell.”
Adam rolls his head on the pillow to give me a half-assed pissed off grimace, but I’m pretty sure he lacks the energy to make it seem legit.
“I’m kidding,” I say, slamming down on the foot of his bed. He’s so not faking. And I’m a horrible person because there’s some sort of relief rolling around inside me that he’s not avoiding me on purpose. Bad Brea. Your friend is sick!
Adam slides up so he’s leaning against his headboard. Four or five books shift on the bedspread, and two fall to the floor. He sniffs and grabs the box of tissues on his nightstand. “I feel like hell. I wouldn’t be surprised if I looked it.”
“Well, I was supposed to bring you something to help…but I kind of got distracted.” I yank my bag up and dig through the pouches. There’s gotta be something in here.
Adam’s lips curl up at the corners as I dump my overstuffed backpack all over his bedspread.
“Ah ha!” My fingers wrap around a yellow M&M bag, and I throw my hand in the air. “Success!”
“I’m not sure if I’ll be able to taste them,” he says, voice low and groggy. “Everything tastes like fuzz. Not that I’ve tasted fuzz, but you know when you were a kid and you would blow those white dandelions everywhere, but sometimes you sucked in when you were supposed to blow and it got caught in the back of your throat? Yeah…yeah! That’s what fuzz tastes like.”
Wow. Someone’s doped up.
“How much medicine have you taken?” I ask, ripping open the M&Ms and dumping them near the crease by his leg.
“Not much.” He sniffs and brings his hand up to fix his glasses or scratch his head or something, but gets distracted by his palm. He laughs and waves it in front of his face. “You know, if I wave my hand real fast my life lines look like Neil Patrick Harris.”
I laugh and grab his wrist so he doesn’t smack himself in the face. “Is your dad at work?” I ask, plucking up one of each color M&M and dropping them into his palm. They only put one red in the bag, and I suppress my frown. I’m weird, because I eat them by color, and when I eat red last for some reason my day seems to go a lot better.
“Yep, yep, yep,” he answers. Mr. Silver works graveyard shifts, so we’re used to having the house to ourselves.
I wrap his fingers around the candy and say, “Eat your fuzz. Then it’s nap time.”
He picks up a green one and gives me this ridiculous sly smirk. He’s so cute when he’s loopy. I don’t smile a lot, but I don’t think I’ve stopped since I walked in here. Must be the medicine fumes. Usually Adam smells like roasted almonds, but all I’m sniffing is NyQuil.
“Are you trying to tell me something with this, Brea?” His smirk widens as he waggles his eyebrows and rolls the green M&M between his finger and thumb. “Did you enjoy last night as much as I did?”
I shake my head, ignoring the tingles that shoot through my lips. “What are you talking about?”
“You know what green M&Ms do to people.”
“Um…no. Enlighten me.”
He leans forward, waving me in like he’s about to divulge this huge secret. “Green M&Ms…”
I wait for it, but he backs off to sneeze. Oh man, if I get out of here without catching something it will be one hell of a miracle.
“What was I saying?” he asks after blowing his nose.
“Green M&Ms.”
“Oh!” He leans in again, and for some odd reason, I don’t care that he’s getting germs all over me. I’ve probably caught them already anyway. “Right… that color, is an aphrodisiac. Big time.”
I pop out a laugh so loud I scare him bac
k into his pillows.
“You don’t believe me?” he asks, eyebrow raised.
“Total myth, Adam. And you’re talking to one of the most superstitious people in the world.”
“It’s true!” he pops the green one in and then tries to give me what I think is supposed to be a seductive smile. But the puffy red nose and droopy tired eyes make me believe he’s about as far away from turned on as a person can be. “Did you also know that’s why the green M&M is a girl? Damn you women. Even the candy version of you is sexy.”
Oh boy. “I think it’s time for you to sleep.”
He kicks his legs out and pouts. “I’m not tired.”
“Close your eyes. I bet you’ll be out in five minutes flat.”
“I want to finish my M&Ms.”
Do all guys turn into such babies when they get sick? I can’t stop laughing at his mood swings and I cross my arms, waiting for him to finish his candy. He takes his sweet time, going for yellow next, brown after that, then blue, then orange. His eyes start to droop.
I reach around him, fluffing his pillow, then I push his shoulders down so he rests damn it. I take special care lifting his glasses from his face, and then set them on his nightstand.
His fingers reach out and flop against my cheek. He gives a half-hearted chuckle. “You’re all blurry.”
“Go to sleep, Adam.”
“Mmmkay.” He closes his eyes with a slight smile on his face. “Thanks for not bringing me soup. That stuff would’ve made me sicker.”
“No problem.”
He rolls over, and I take that as my cue to leave. I’ve done my friendly duty. Being as quiet as I can, I stuff things back into my backpack. I’ll zip it out of the room so I don’t wake him up.
A loud snore rumbles his lips, and I silent laugh. It’s kind of nice I got to take care of him. Usually I sit back and let Sierra do it. There’s not much I can do for anyone, but if I helped even a little bit with my candy and company, then I’ll chalk that one on the success chart.
I reach over to pull the covers over his shoulder. He smiles in his sleep when I ruffle his hair, then he sticks his hand out and settles a red M&M in my palm.
I won’t eat it, since it’s probably cold and flu riddled, but the thought alone gets my heart rate jacked up.
“Thanks,” I whisper.
He gives me a tiny nod and rolls over on his other side. I think he’s out before I even get to his door.
Chapter 4
How many classes do I need to pass to graduate?
Four shiny bright F’s. Not one. Or two or three… FOUR FREAKING F’S. How did this happen?
English, Geometry, History, and Biology. The big ones. All four of them. I slam my head down on my desk and force back the heat creeping behind my eyes. I can feel people looking at me, but I don’t care. My mom’s going to freak. Levi is going to really freak.
It had to be midterms. Tests have to be the worst things anyone ever invented. The second I see the word “test” on top of the page, my brain jumps out of my head and takes a coffee break. It leaves the rest of my body on high alert…my heart pumps faster, my nerves stand on end, and all my senses heighten. I can hear someone scratch their arm from across the room. My eyes focus on the individual ink dots in the first question on the test. I feel like I’ve developed some sort of super power, only my brain up and left, and I stare at the page, writing who the hell knows what, just so the test isn’t empty.
Google says it’s test anxiety. But really, I think I’m just stupid.
The bell rings, and I pluck my head from the desk and slide my report card into my pocket. I swipe at my eyes, hoping none of my mascara smeared in the process. No tears escaped, thank the heavens. I have to look okay, put on a brave front, because if I don’t, Levi and Mom will worry. I don’t want them worrying. I’d rather have them mad.
I get out the front doors and stand on the curb, waiting for Adam. Poor guy still has a little bit of a stuffy nose, but he says he’s past the worst of it. Also told me he doesn’t remember most of our conversation yesterday, and if he said anything inappropriate, he probably totally meant it, but I should forget about it. I don’t think I’ll ever forget him telling me the green M&M girl was sexy. I’m so using that for blackmail later.
My eyes float around the lot, not really looking at anything. I’m trying to figure out what to say to Mom and Levi when they ask for my report card when someone gives me a tiny wave a few feet down the sidewalk.
I blink a few times, focusing in on Jay who’s got a delicious smile on. Because I’m not totally sure he’s waving to me, I just smile back thinking that’s innocent and polite enough.
He says something to the guy he’s standing with, then he fist bumps him before walking to me. I gulp and stare at the ground. Bringing my hair around my shoulder, I start to braid like crazy. Jay’s shadow reaches me, and my fingers tighten around my blonde locks.
“Hey.”
Okay, I should probably look at him. “Uh, hey.”
And now it’s awkward. Yay.
“Oh shit, do you not recognize me?”
My neck jerks back and I say, “Huh?”
“I’m that lost guy you helped yesterday.”
“I remember you, Jay.” I get to the bottom of my hair and knot it up so the braid stays.
“Phew!” He pretends to wipe his forehead. “I thought you sounded confused for a second.”
“Sorry.”
He laughs, but it’s super forced. His eyes dart to the parking lot. I’m so socially inept. I always come off rude and annoyed, when really I just have no idea how to talk to people. A million topics float through my brain, and I try to grasp one of them so we’re not just standing here on the curb saying absolutely nothing.
There’s a rock stuck in the drain by our feet. I could talk about that, I guess. It’s been there all year and it’s bugged me. Or maybe I’ll talk about how rain gutters scare the crap out of me. I’m afraid of a heel slipping into one of the holes, and I wrench my ankle and break it. Or how I have to make sure my phone is secure in my pocket when I walk by one because it might magically jump from my pants and land in the sewer.
It’s stupid. But something is better than this silent torture.
“So…”
“Do you…”
Of course we have to break the silence at the same time. I bite back the very uninteresting topic I plucked from my brain and say, “Sorry, you go” before he has a chance to make me talk about my phobia of rain drains.
He tugs on the strap of his messenger bag. “I was thinking…since you were so good at directing me to that class, that maybe you want to show me around town, too? Like, this weekend, maybe?”
My brows push together, and I sort of…well, I gawk at him. He takes one look at my face and smacks a hand over his eyes.
“Shit, that sounded much better in my head. I wanted to ask you out, but I didn’t want to freak you out since we don’t really know each other. So I thought maybe if I had sort of an excuse… I know, lame. I’m gonna start over.” He takes his hand down and sucks in a deep breath. “Hey, Brea. What are you doing this weekend?”
Instead of answering him like a normal person I ask, “You want to go out with me?”
“Yeah.”
I blink, then study him to make sure this isn’t a prank.
“Why?”
He plays with his strap some more and shrugs. “You seem cool.” He pauses and kicks a rock into that rain gutter. It gets lodged next to the other one. “And…you’re cute.”
I’m so glad Adam pulls up at that exact moment. His tire squeals against the curb right in front of us, and he lets himself out to open the door for me. I give him a minute finger.
When I look back at Jay, his hand is back over his eyes. “That guy is your boyfriend, isn’t he?” he asks so quiet I have to lean in to hear it.
“No,” I whisper back, and when he pulls his hand away I force an awkward smile at him. “And I think I’m free this we
ekend.”
His whole demeanor changes, and he straightens, giving me a smirk. Almost as if the fact that I’m available gives him all the confidence in the world.
“Well, awesome. Can I get your number then?”
“Sure.” I shift weight onto my other leg and give him my phone as he hands me his. His fingers touch mine, and I’m suddenly very aware Adam is right there within hearing distance, but when I glance at him, his attention is on his own phone.
“Here,” Jay says, nudging my knuckles with my ancient cell. It’s a pay by the minute, since that’s all Levi could afford to get me. I told him I didn’t need one, but he was all, “I want you to have one for emergencies,” and blah blah. I get the gesture, but I don’t fill up on minutes often. Too afraid to ask for something so low priority.
I hand Jay back his had-to-be-six-hundred-dollars cell.
“I’ll call you tonight,” he says.
“Okay.”
He gives Adam a nod—Adam waves back—and then he jogs off. I cock my head and appreciate the view for a little bit until Adam clears his throat.
“You coming? Or should I leave you to stare into space?”
I roll my eyes and shove past him, not really in the mood to joke around. I slouch in the front seat as he makes his way behind the wheel.
He pushes to my playlist on his iPod and we drive in silence. The report card in my pocket feels like it weighs a hundred pounds. If I stand, I’m in danger of my pants dropping to my ankles.
Adam pulls up to my trailer, the weight in my pocket triples, and I find it hard to breathe normally.
I grapple for the door handle, but Adam reaches around me and slams the door lock down. Now my breathing is chaotic, fogging up his glasses.
“You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” His mouth twitches at the corner, and he flicks the bottom of my braid. “Or are you going to keep it in till it explodes later?”
“That’s only happened a couple times.” Or a couple hundred times.
He raises his eyebrows and waits, and instead of answering, I pull out my midterms.