Emmaline snatched up her stuff from the floorboard, her brown braids bouncing. “I’m going to hear from you. I know it.” With a small giggle, she exited the car, slipping past her brother and his girlfriend, who lingered in the driveway, still staring at Hayden in her car. Emmaline sent a jaunty little farewell wave behind her and disappeared inside her house.
Hayden started to shift into reverse when she noticed that Nolan was approaching her car. Fabulous.
Homecoming Queen called out to him. He turned back to look at her and gave her a swift shake of his head. Pouting, she turned abruptly on her heels and disappeared inside the house.
Then he was at Hayden’s window, giving it a light tap with his knuckles.
She manually rolled the window down. That’s right. She didn’t even have automatic windows. She had to crank down her window with a creaking lever that stuck on every upswing. She was embarrassingly aware of the long moments until the glass slid far enough down.
“Hey,” she finally said, placing her hands back on the steering wheel.
“Did you skip school with my sister?”
All right then. Straight to the point. “Yes, we skipped last period.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why?” She felt like she was being grilled by a parent or school administrator and not a guy in her own grade. “I thought she might like to test out my new crack pipe with me.”
His expression remained unchanged. “Not funny.”
She cocked her head to the side. “It’s kind of funny,” she disagreed.
“My little sister is a good kid.”
Her hands tightened where they gripped the wheel. So what was she then? Anger bubbled inside her chest.
“Well, your good little sister . . .” Really. They were just one grade apart. “Is the one who wants to hang out with me.” She paused, letting that sink in. “So maybe you should interrogate her and leave me the hell alone.”
He narrowed his dark eyes on her. “Why does she want to hang out with you all of a sudden?” He bent at the waist so that his face was close to hers. He settled a hand on her windowsill, revealing the sinewy underside of his bicep. The guy worked out. She fought back a grimace. That’s what privileged guys did. At least the jocks. They worked out at gyms full of shiny equipment, ate lots of fast food, went to parties, and applied for colleges the rest of their time.
“I don’t know. Maybe that’s something you should ask her.” Her gaze drifted to where his big hand gripped the peeling interior vinyl of her car. “Can I go now?”
He held her gaze, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “I’m not stopping you.”
No. No, he wasn’t.
He stepped away, his arms falling to his sides. She put the car into reverse and backed out, wondering what it was about that guy that got under her skin. She watched from the corner of her eye as he stood there, watching her leave.
Perfect people living their perfect lives.
No wonder she didn’t like him.
Lesson #10
The best foreplay starts with conversation.
x Nolan x
Nolan’s stomach grumbled, alerting him that it was almost time for dinner.
He lifted his head from his notes and shut his laptop. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he stood and stretched the kinks from his back, glad the week was almost over.
Calculus wasn’t his friend, but at least it took his mind off other stuff. Stuff like Priscilla. Stuff like his sister and whatever was happening between her and Hayden Vargas. After that little standoff with Hayden outside his house the other day, his sister had been weird. He wanted—needed—things to go back to being unweird between them.
He glanced down at his phone and read the texts he had been ignoring. Priscilla wanted to start talking about prom plans. Already. He shoved his phone into his pocket. He was going to ignore those messages for a little longer.
As soon as he stepped out of his room, he could smell dinner on the air.
When he entered the kitchen, he spotted Mom at the stove, her back to him as she stirred the contents of a pot.
He must have made a sound because she glanced over her shoulder. “Hey there. Dinner’s almost ready. I’m about to plate the pasta.”
“Smells good.” He approached and peered at the bubbling tomato sauce swimming with meatballs and slices of Italian sausage. Just the way Dad had made it. A carnivore’s dream. Nolan’s chest squeezed at the thought. He tried not to think about Dad too often. At least not in any lingering way. He was usually so busy that it was an easy enough task. Between sports and school and looking after his sisters and Priscilla, he hardly had time to think. He was go-go-go all the time, and the minute his head hit the pillow at night, he was out.
His youngest sister walked in the room. “What are we having?” she asked, tugging the buds from her ears.
“Spaghetti,” Mom answered.
Savannah’s eyes brightened. “With Dad’s sauce?”
“You bet.” Mom slid the garlic bread into the oven to warm.
Nolan fixed his smile in place. Faking happy was something he’d been doing for a while now. He wouldn’t be the lone voice to ruin the moment by saying that his stomach cramped every time he tasted Dad’s sauce.
Mom slid off the oven mitts and moved back to the fridge, pulling out the salad dressing. “Now, I’ll never make it as good as Dad, but I’ll keep trying. Can one of you fetch Emmaline?” Mom asked, oblivious to Nolan’s less-than-kind thoughts.
Savannah plucked a carrot out of the salad bowl. “She’s not here.”
“What do you mean, she’s not here?” Mom frowned as she set the dressing on the counter. “I thought she was in her room.”
Savannah shook her head. “She left about an hour ago. You didn’t hear her call out? She took your car.”
“Oh.” Mom looked confused. Not concerned, though, because she trusted Emmaline. She trusted all of them. They never gave her cause to worry. They never got into trouble. She told them all the time how lucky she was to have such great kids.
As always, Nolan stopped himself from reminding her that she couldn’t be that lucky. She’d lost her husband at forty-one.
Nolan wasn’t one of those kids who thought anyone over thirty was old. He wasn’t that shortsighted. People could live to ninety these days. He knew forty-one was young. Too young to lose a spouse.
Which was maybe why he tried so hard to be good. It was like an unspoken rule among all three of them. Do not add to Mom’s grief.
“Where is she?” he asked.
“I think she mentioned Sanjana.”
Mom picked up her phone, presumably to call Emmaline.
A few seconds later Emmaline’s phone jingled from the couch cushions.
Savannah retrieved it from beneath a cushion and waved it in the air. “Guess who forgot her phone?”
Mom tsked and shook her head.
“I’ll go get her,” Nolan volunteered. Sanjana only lived a few streets away in a neighboring subdivision.
Mom nodded. “I’ll keep everything warm.”
He snatched his keys from the hall table and his hoodie from the peg near the door, pulling it over his head as he stepped outside.
Less than five minutes later he was knocking on Sanjana’s door.