Send Me a Sign

“No clue. I couldn’t figure out if I’m a triangle, rectangle, circle, or sideways bow tie. How do girls know these things? What are you?”

 

 

“That’s an hourglass, not a bow tie. I’m a rectangle, because I’m not super curvy, but an hourglass, too, since I have a waist.” I felt stupid talking about my body—and self-conscious drawing attention to my waist, where his hand had just rested. A fact he was aware of too; his eyes flicked there before coming back to meet mine.

 

We were quiet for a heartbeat. Two. Then my heart sped up as my blood rushed to my cheeks and that was no longer an accurate way of counting.

 

My focus shifted from my racing pulse to an awareness of how good he smelled. My eyes drifted to his lips, and my thoughts? They drifted to our first kiss. Our only kiss.

 

It had taken place in his car—more than a year ago—on the night Gyver got his license. He’d taken me out to celebrate with ice cream.

 

We could’ve eaten at our usual picnic table. In fact, we could’ve walked home—Scoops is less than a mile from our houses. But that night we’d sat in his car and Gyver cranked the A/C to keep my cone from dripping. “Where should we go next, Mi?”

 

“Wherever. It’s just nice to be parentless.” I gave him a cheesy high-five, but he grasped my hand instead, leaned in, and pressed his lips to mine.

 

It was the best kiss I’d had—until I knocked my ice cream off the cone and into his lap. There’s no way to read that as anything but a bad sign. A very bad sign. He’d pulled back in surprise and banged his head on the window. I’d gone to retrieve the melting glob of chocolate fudge—until I realized where I’d be reaching and he stopped me with a sharp, “I’ve got it.”

 

I’d darted out of the car to get napkins. By the time I’d returned, he’d wiped himself off with tissues from the glove box. The only evidence of our ill-fated kiss was a chocolate stain on the crotch of his khaki cargo shorts and my red cheeks. We never discussed it.

 

Was he thinking about it now too?

 

I willed my gaze from his lips to his eyes; they were dark, questioning.

 

My phone beeped on my nightstand. I blinked—how long had it been since I had blinked? In the instant my eyes were closed, something changed. When I opened them, the intensity was gone, the moment passed.

 

Gyver rolled away and sat up. “I bet that’s The Jock.”

 

I picked up my phone and read the screen. “Don’t call him that. Not that it’s any of your business, but it’s my horoscope.”

 

Gyver snorted. “You have your horoscope sent to your phone? So what’s today’s dire prediction?”

 

“It says: ‘Things can’t balance on a knife’s edge. Make careful choices because once you decide, you can’t go back.’ I guess it was a good day to hide in bed.”

 

I flipped through the other texts. Ally: U OK? Lauren’s: Out again?! Hil: Call me. There were two from Ryan: L8 or sick? Then, a few hours later: RU contagious? Can I get a good luck kiss b4 the game?

 

I looked at Gyver. He was playing with his own phone, but lifted his eyes to meet my gaze. “Meagan says hi and that the test was easy.”

 

She knew he was here. At some point today, Gyver had checked in with her, which meant that while he’d had my full attention, at least during the times I was awake, I hadn’t had his. I hit Reply and fumbled with the keys. I didn’t feel lucky—I felt a little queasy—but Ryan wanted me, which was more than I could say about Gyver. And if he thought my kiss was good luck, I wasn’t going to jinx him.

 

“You’re blushing.” Gyver glanced over my shoulder. “Oh. What are you telling The Jock?” he asked in a tight voice.

 

“I’m serious, stop calling him that!” When Gyver waited, I added, “That I’m not contagious. He can stop by if he wants.”

 

He stood up. “I better go then. School gets out in ten minutes. If Ryan’s”—he overemphasized the name—“going to come over before his game, he’ll be here soon. I doubt he’d be happy to find me here.” He pointed at the bed and echoed his last word, “Here.”

 

I nodded. He was right, but I didn’t like the new attitude in his voice. “Thanks again for staying with me.”

 

He opened the door, and Jinx squeezed between his legs and jumped on the bed, her tail twitching as she settled on the pillow he’d abandoned.

 

“I hate to say this, but your horoscope was right, Mi. You’ve got to make some decisions. Things can’t stay like this.” I looked down at Jinx and didn’t reply. “I’ll call you later.”

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 20

 

I took a quick shower and changed into clean pajamas—regular clothes seemed pointless this late in the day. Mom would have to deal with it.

 

I was gently towel drying my hair when I heard Ryan’s voice in the kitchen. “Hey, Mr. Moore.”

 

“Hi, Ryan. Mia’s in her room. Wash your hands before you go up, please.”

 

I cringed, but Ryan’s “sure” sounded fine.

 

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