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.
Things had changed. I never had many rules, but my parents had drawn the line at boys in my bedroom. Maybe now they felt I was too sick to do anything, like having leukemia made me less of a teenager.
They were wrong. When Ryan stepped in the room, I forgot all about cancer. I studied his hair first—the natural highlights turning it gold—and then his summer-at-the-shore tan, dark-yellow hooded sweatshirt, and blue soccer shorts. Finally, I let myself focus on his face—bright blue eyes and brighter smile. He looked down at me with such concern and … attraction. This was why I never had any luck not kissing him. But maybe kissing was what I needed right now; a reminder that Gyver wasn’t the only guy in the world.
“Hey, you. Are you skipping or really sick?” He crossed the room with athletic strides and sat next to me on the bed. His mouth was paused a breath from mine as he waited for my reply.
“Not contagious.” I stretched to meet his lips and his arms curled around me. The summer sun seeped from his skin—warming mine where we touched. We lay down—annoying Jinx, who jumped off the bed, pawed the door open, and left.
“It’d be worth it to catch whatever,” Ryan murmured against my neck, sliding his hand up the hem of my pajama camisole. He paused and glanced at the now-open door. “Your dad’s downstairs. He’s not going to come check on us, is he?” He moved his hand back to my waist.
“I don’t think so.” But his “catch whatever” felt like clouds on a sunny day. The words stole the warmth from my skin and all playfulness from the moment.
“I should go. Coach Burne’ll kill me if I miss the bus.” He sat up, then crashed back for another kiss. “’Kay, I’m really going now. Wish me luck.”
“Good luck.” The words tasted uncertain.
He hesitated. “Mia, I know you’ve been avoiding me, but have you thought at all? About us?”
“Ryan … I can’t.” I played with the cuff of my pajama pants.
“Why not? At least tell me why. Is it Hil? Since when does she run your life?”
“I thought you had to go.” On cue, his phone beeped. “See? That’s probably Chris or Bill wondering where you are.”
“I’ve got a minute.” He put his hand on mine.