He had more experience, yes, and he had a commanding personality I’d always have to be on guard against, and okay, the thought of being with him scared me as much as it fascinated me, but if he liked me, I’d go out with him. I was done allowing fear to dictate my life.
No way I’d give the zombies something to enjoy.
But if Cole didn’t want me, fine. I’d be okay. Sure, I might cry about it for a few days (cough weeks cough), but I’d be okay. He wasn’t the be-all and end-all. Right?
Groaning, I lumbered from the bed, brushed my hair and teeth and changed into my own clothing. I shot Kat a quick, Deets 2 come later. Promise.
I shot Justin a more thought out, How does 8 sound?
There wasn’t enough time left of my ten minutes to wait for their replies, so I headed to the kitchen for lunch. On today’s menu was turkey on rye and chips. One whiff, and I was a ravenous beast monster, my mouth watering and my stomach grumbling.
I devoured my portion without coming up for air.
“Wow,” Pops said, staring at me from across the table as if I’d grown horns. “You never told us you were a sandwich fan.”
“I can make ham and Swiss for dinner,” Nana said, then frowned. “What happened to your wrists and hands?”
As ladylike as possible, I wiped the mustard from my upper lip. “My hands?” I studied the cuts and bruises, the swelling, and hoped with every ounce of my being that I looked calmer than I suddenly felt. “Oh, that. I fell.” Again with the truth that wasn’t really the truth.
“Looks like you punched someone,” Pops said with a frown of his own.
“He should know,” Nana said with a nod. “Your grandpa was a boxer in his youth. Sexiest thing I’d ever seen, let me tell you. He wore these short little shorts, and sweat was always dripping down his hairy chest.”
Gross!
They shared an affectionate glance before Pops prompted, “Ali?”
“Oh, well. Hmm. I definitely fell. And uh, I’ve got a date tonight. Well, not a date, but a friendship outing.” If they didn’t embrace the diversion, I didn’t know what I’d do. “With a boy from my school.”
“A date?” Pops toyed with the edge of one thick, silver brow. “Where’s he taking you? What time will you be home?”
“What if he wants to have sex with you?” Nana immediately jumped in. “Did your mother talk to you about sex?”
Oh, no. Not the sex talk. Please, not the sex talk. “Yes, Mom talked to me.” Moving on. “A girl from school, Reeve, has a pool and a group of us are going over there to hang out. Kat introduced me to her, and I promise you, I will not be having sex with anyone.” I was beyond embarrassed even saying the word in front of them.
And you know what else? After everything that had happened last night, it was weird, sitting here, eating lunch with my family, having a conversation that thousands of other teens were probably having.
“Reeve.” Pops pursed his lips. “That sounds like a made-up name to me. What exactly will be crackalackin at this party? Will her parents be there?”
Again with the horrible slang, the adorable man. “We’ll swim, talk, probably play video games and Ping-Pong,” I said, sidestepping the parents portion of his interrogation. I hadn’t heard one way or the other, but I suspected a big fat no.
Pops gave me the evil eye. “You’re not going to get chewed, are you?”
I…had no idea how to respond to that. “Chewed?”
“Don’t pretend to misunderstand, young lady,” Nana said. “Chewed. Cranked. Trashed.”
“You mean drunk?” Please, let them mean drunk. This discussion had already taken too many horrendous turns.
My grandparents nodded in unison, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
“No,” I said. “I promise. No drinking.” On my part, I silently added. Who knew what the other kids would be doing—after taking shots of tequila off of each other’s bellies.
“All right, then. We’ll trust you. Unless and until you give us reason not to,” Nana added in that stern, motherly tone of hers. “But we’ll want to meet this boy, talk to him before you leave with him, that kind of thing.”
I did not allow myself to gulp guiltily, even though I wanted to. “Thank you. He’s nice, I promise. But we’re not interested in each other that way.”
“Then why are you going out with him?” Nana asked, clearly exasperated with my continued insistence.
“Because he asked me.”
“Are you leading him on?” Pops demanded.
“No!”
“We ask because we care.” Nana brushed her hands together, and crumbs went flying in every direction. “Now, then. Do you need a few dead presidents?”
Took me a minute to decipher that one, too. “Maybe a few…Washingtons,” I said, giving the slang a shot just to make them happy. They were such good people. They’d taken me in, given me a home, food and even personal space to mourn in my own way.
Pops pulled out his wallet. “What if there’s an emergency, and this boy leaves you alone in the restaurant? He is taking you to eat at a nice place, isn’t he? I’ll give you a few Lincolns.” He withdrew three fives, placed them in my hand and closed my fingers around them.