Style by Chelsea M. Cameron

that,” I said as we headed to our cars.

 
     

     
    I wasn’t nervous. Not at all. I wasn’t fidgeting and re-arranging the shakers on the dining table and then going to the fridge to make sure we had enough soda and then checking the couch to make sure there were no dust bunnies underneath.
    Nope. I wasn’t doing any of those things.
    I’d booked it out of practice so I could get home and get a shower in (and redo my hair) before she came over. I sent the text with shaking fingers. I almost wished that Dad was home to distract me, but he was working late tonight so it was going to be just me and Kyle.
    Bad idea.
    Such a bad idea.
    I’d regretted the words almost the instant they were out of my mouth, but there was no way to pull them back so here I was, fiddling with my hair and waiting for her to show up. I drew the line at waiting by the door.
    Finally, what seemed like hours later, a car pulled into the driveway. God help me.
     

     
    I was able to pretend that I totally didn’t care that she was here, in my house with me, alone. She’d changed into low-slung grey sweatpants that left just a hint of belly showing under her t-shirt. Just that little whisper of skin was enough to make my mouth go dry and I had to remind myself to look up at her face, but that was somehow worse.
    The lighting in my house must have been designed to make her look as cute as possible or else I was just imagining things. I narrowed my eyes and led her to the dining room table where I had my laptop set up and my book out already, with passages I’d highlighted. I’d needed something to do while I was waiting for her.
    “Do you want anything?” I said, trying to sound bored as I went to the kitchen.
    “Um, Coke? If you have it.” Her eyes kept darting around, as if looking for a neon sign to point her toward the emergency exit. I was feeling a little that way myself.
    I grabbed two cans and two glasses and nearly dropped everything when she got up to help me.
    “I’ve got it,” I snapped and she put her hands up and backed away.
    “Sorry, sorry. Just trying to be nice, no need to bite my head off.” I’d like to bite her, but not in the way she was thinking.
    I could feel my face starting to flush, so I got busy pouring out the sodas and then asking her if she wanted a snack. She declined, but I was still starving from practice, so I grabbed a few bags of chips and some berries from the fridge.
    Kyle gave me a look when I set them down between us.
    “The chips and the berries cancel each other out. It’s basic food science,” I said and I swore she almost smiled. Almost.
    “I’m pretty sure that’s not how calories work, Stella.” Wow. I really liked the way my name sounded in her mouth.
    Stop thinking about her mouth.
    Hard to do when she scooped up a handful of berries and started popping them in said mouth.
    I was going to die. This girl was going to kill me.
    I cleared my throat and put my laptop screen in front of me so it blocked the view.
    “So, I pulled a few passages already, if you want to look at them and then copy them down for the paper. I could also have my dad go over it before we hand it in,” I said. He’d already been doing that for every paper I’d ever written. It was a habit that I didn’t intend on breaking.
    She raised her eyebrows and there was a smudge of berry juice in the corner of her mouth. I stomped on a mental image of leaning forward to lick it off.
    “Yeah? You’re going to give it to your dad and he’s going to rip it apart and then you’re going to have him fix it and hand it in anyway,” she said, crossing her arms.
    “No, he’s going to tell us where it’s weak and where it’s good and make sure that the grammar is correct,” I said, keeping my eyes on my laptop. I was pretending to type, but really, I was just pressing random keys.
    “Or, stay with me here, you’re going to re-write the entire paper, slap our names on it and then hand it in. I get it, you’re a