Perfect.
Why hadn’t I thought of kissing Mara before? Because kissing her had my blood humming. I’d kissed girls before, yeah. But this—actually, who cared? I’d think about it later.
So, so good.
“Mr. Morton.” I heard my name. There was a tap on my shoulder. And none too gently.
Go away, whoever you are. Mara’s hands fisted in my shirt at my waist.
Whoa. I sank further.
“Mr. Morton!”
“What? Can’t you see I’m bus—” Reluctantly, I pulled my mouth from Mara’s to see Ms. Fox. “—zee.”
Crap.
Slowly, I came back to my senses. Like looking through a funnel, I saw everything wide before it got small. The hall filled with students, some straining to see and others not paying any attention at all. And Ms. Fox, her beady eyes narrowed, standing with her hands on her hips.
Mara. Beautiful, delicious, Mara. I wanted to kiss her again. Then I remembered why I kissed her in the first place.
Detention.
My plan.
I took a step back, dropping my arms from Mara’s waist as if she’d burned me. Holy moly, what just happened? Before I’d completely gathered my wits, Ms. Fox let me have it.
“Taggish, what is going on here? This is not the back seat of your car, young man. The handbook clearly prohibits public displays of affection.” She paused her rant to take a breath and turn her focus on Mara. “And Mara. What were you thinking?” She shook her head.
Mara blinked away her dazed expression. “Ms. Fox, I didn’t—”
“You most certainly did!”
And she had. Mara had kissed me back. Eagerly. There was more than a little satisfaction in that.
Ms. Fox reached into her back pocket and pulled out a pad of detention slips. At the top, she wrote my name. I waited as she filled out the rest of the form and took it after she tore it from the pack. Ms. Fox sighed and shook her head as she printed Mara’s name next.
Mara chewed her lip.
“Mara.” Ms. Fox held out the detention slip.
Mara hesitated before taking it, and tears spilled down her cheeks.
Well, crap.
The brief satisfaction I’d felt at getting back at Mara, and that she’d kissed me back, vanished.
I’d made her cry, and that made me react impulsively.
I turned to Ms. Fox. I had to do something. “This is all my fault.”
She eyed me dryly. “I’m certain that’s true, Taggish, but you’re both getting detention. You’re lucky I’m not recommending you for a day of in-school suspension—” Mara gasped, her face draining of all color. I prayed she wouldn’t faint.
Idiot! What was I thinking? All I’d been thinking about for days was how to get Mara in trouble, and now all I could think was how to get her out.
Ms. Fox went on. “You can thank Mara for that because heaven knows you’ve spent enough time in detention to warrant a weightier punishment, Taggish.”
“I’ll take the ISS,” I heard myself say. “Don’t give Mara the detention. It was my fault.”
Ms. Fox eyed me. She knew, and I knew, if I got an ISS, I’d be suspended for the first game of the season. I thought she might reconsider, let me take all the blame. But then her lips flattened. She wouldn’t let Mara off the hook.
I wished Mara had tasted sour like I’d imagined. It would’ve made this whole thing easier to stomach.
That wasn’t true. I had a feeling, either way, I’d have come to the conclusion I was a jerk.
“No more PDA,” Ms. Fox admonished, giving us each a stern glare. “Off to lunch. Let’s go.” She clapped her hands once, capturing the attention of the stragglers in the hall. People scattered, leaving me alone with Mara, who hadn’t so much as moved an inch as she stared at the detention slip in her hand.
There was nothing I could do now. The damage was done.
“Mara—” I reached for her arm.
“Don’t touch me, Taggish.” She jerked out of my reach. “Just leave me alone.”
She spun away and disappeared down the hall, leaving me feeling like the lowest slug ever to slink the earth.
I’d done what I set out to do. Mara Cronk had detention, probably the first in her entire school career. I should feel proud of myself. For almost a year, Mara had been driving me crazy, sticking her nose where it didn’t belong. A guy couldn’t even take out the trash without her butting in.
My feet moved toward the cafeteria, where Braden waited just inside the door. He socked me in the shoulder as soon as I reached him. “You were supposed to give me a warning, man. You did it, didn’t you? Cal said he saw you kissing Mara.” Cal Adams, shortstop.
“Huh? What?” I had brain fog. Mara fog. She’d thrown me off. I felt like someone had jerked a choke collar around my neck.
Braden searched my face and grinned. “Dude, I know that look. You have make-out face. I can’t believe you kissed Mara Cronk, and I missed it. And you have make-out face.”
“Make-out face? What are you talking about? I don’t even know what that means.” I knew exactly what that meant. I felt it. I probably looked—
“Dopey. You look like a dope who just had his head knocked sideways by a pretty girl.” Braden shook his head, disgusted, as he moved toward the cafeteria. “And I missed it! You were supposed to tell me.”
I scowled. My head began to clear. “I did not get my head knocked sideways. I got detention.” I held up the slip. “And so did Mara. PDA.”
“Oh-ho! You dog! Just like Miller, man.”
I slapped his hand when he lifted it for a high five but felt a little sick. Not that I’d tell Braden.
“So, now what?” Braden asked as we got in line for food.
“What do you mean? We both go to detention, and hopefully, she’ll be so mad, she won’t ever bug me again.”
Mara
He kissed me. Taggish Morton kissed me! And he’d done it on purpose to get me in trouble!
My body itched. It crawled. I felt like I’d broken out in hives.
For the rest of the day, I felt like I’d been sentenced to hang. He’d done it to get back at me for getting on his case for being loud and obnoxious.
And he’d succeeded.
Not only was I horrified about the detention, but there was something else . . . something worse.
I’d liked it.
Kissing him.
Oh, gosh.
I could hardly admit it to myself. When Taggish grabbed me out of nowhere and pressed his lips to mine—it had been so unexpected. And not just because I never expected him to kiss me. If I’d ever thought about it, ever given it a moment’s consideration, I would never have imagined liking Taggish’s kiss.
And I hadn’t just liked it.
Beyond the physical manifestations of my anxiety, my body hummed with the remnants of that kiss for hours. The tingles. The sparkles. If I could paint the way he’d made me feel, I’d use glitter paint. Bright pink-and-gold glitter paint.
I hadn’t used glitter since I was five.
I cringed, knowing it had been Taggish to get that kind of reaction from me.
He’d caught me unawares. But once I got over the shock, my body picked up the sensations.