Finally she looks up at me. “Don’t be sorry. It’s my fault as much as yours. We got carried away. We just can’t let it happen again.”
I drop my hands and take a tiny step back. “Yeah. Carried away. Totally.” So she doesn’t want it to happen again. Okay, yeah. That’s probably better. That’s what I wanted—want—anyway. Clean break. Mutual agreement. Couldn’t have worked out more perfectly.
I take a couple more steps backward and am about to head out the door when her voice stops me.
“We’ll have to stick to more private places from now on. Bedrooms and the like.” She smiles, and her eyes show some of that fire again.
Oh thank God.
Chapter 25
I can’t stop thinking about her.
I also can’t stop thinking about how the “her” is a different “her” than it should be. I don’t know what I think or what I feel or what’s right or wrong.
So I take the easiest, smoothest, straightest road. Which, okay, are usually the roads that lead you straight to danger. But how much worse could it possibly get?
Sunday afternoon, I drop Hope at Alan’s. Mom knows it’s my day off from work, and I know better than to ask her to be on grandma duty. Last thing I need right now is a “you’re her father” lecture. But Alan doesn’t know my work schedule, and what Alan doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Hope will be happier spending the day with him anyway.
I tell Alan I’ll pick her up by six and speed toward Clinton as fast as the Sable will take me.
If this were some stupid, teenage, romantic comedy, I would be pulled over by the cops, and they would have mustaches and mirrored sunglasses, and they’d demand to know why I was in such a rush.
“I’m going to see a girl, officers.”
“A girlfriend?” they would ask, giving each other a knowing we-were-young-once smirk.
“I…I don’t know, sirs.”
“Well, do you want her to be your girlfriend?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, do you love her?”
“I don’t think so, sirs.”
“Then you better keep it in your pants. No good can come of this.”
“I know, officers. You’re right. You’re absolutely right. But I can’t seem to stop myself. Any advice?”
“Who do you think we are? Some sort of psychiatrists? You need professional help, boy. Now turn that car around and go along home.”
I press harder on the gas and make it to Clinton in record time.
Joni and Elijah are in the garage. She’s sitting Indian style, elbows on her knees, chin in her palms, on an overturned garbage can. He’s painting a portrait of her. It’s all shades of black and white and gray. It’s not anywhere near done yet, but he’s already managed to capture her aura of awesome.
I glance at Elijah. I’m pretty sure he’s what most girls would consider hot. His blond dreads are tied back from his face with some sort of leather shoelace, his arms are covered in tattoos—artsy ones he probably designed himself, not the lame generic ones you pick off a wall—and he’s built. He must lift. No one gets like that by flinging around a paintbrush.
Joni admitted she used to have a crush on him. I know it was when she was really little and he wasn’t her brother yet, but…they’re not actually related. I wonder if there’s any part of her that still likes him that way. I hate the idea. And I hate that I hate it. I am not going to become too attached to this girl. I like her, sure, and kissing her is amazing, but I know there are levels of like. And this isn’t going to get past a simmer.
Joni’s eyes flicker to where I’m standing off to the side of the garage, and her face lights up. She hops off the garbage can.
“Heya,” she says, skipping over to me. She stops about a half foot away.
“Hey.”
“You remember Elijah, right?”
“Yeah. What’s up, man?”
Elijah doesn’t take his eyes off his painting. “Hi, Ryden,” he says as his brush flicks across the canvas.
Huh. I don’t think I told him my name the last time I was here. Joni must have told him about me.
“Joni, can you sit for me again tonight?”
“Sure thing.” She grabs my hand and leads me into the house. It’s quiet.
“Where is everybody?”
“My parents took the kids to the water park. We’re all alone.” She smiles and pushes open the door to her magic room.
God, I love this place. It immediately calms the jitters from my mad dash over here.
I sit down in the middle of the AstroTurf floor and lie back, staring up at the sky beyond the glass ceiling. I take a few long, deep breaths, letting the magic seep into me.
“You okay?” Joni asks quietly, lying down next to me.
“Yeah.”
She gently rests her hand on mine. “Anything you want to talk about?”
I turn my head and find my face just a couple of inches from hers. “No. Definitely not. No talking.” And I make those two inches of space disappear.