“Don’t even get me started on school pictures.” The guy winced. “In my fifth-grade photo, I had black rubber bands on my braces. It looked like there was tar oozing from my mouth.”
“I had pink and green rubber bands on my braces. Disaster.” The words were out of Hanna’s mouth before she could stop them, and her confession surprised even her. Never had she willingly volunteered information about what a loser she used to be, especially to someone so good-looking. But there was something warm and inviting about this guy that actually made it fun to commiserate.
He straightened up and gave her a challenging look. “Well, I was way too skinny as a kid. Concave chest, knobby knees, picked last for every team in gym class. Top that.”
“I was chubby.” Hanna laughed self-consciously. “More like fat, actually. I looked like a beast next to my friends. My dad even called me a piggie once—like it was funny.” She shut her eyes.
“I got called scarecrow. Anorexic boy. Freak.”
“So? I was Chubby Couture. Hanna Fat-Assa.” Hanna felt a hurtful twinge. Actually, Their Ali had made up those nicknames when they were friends.
The guy reached out and touched the inside of Hanna’s wrist. It felt electrifying. “I bet no one calls you a loser anymore, huh?”
She swallowed hard, meeting his eyes. “Or you.”
The crowd moved again, this time pushing them into each other. Hanna tipped sideways, and the guy slipped his arm around her waist. When the mob shifted again, they didn’t break apart. Hanna breathed in his spicy, soapy smell, her pulse in her throat. He rested his chin in her hair. His hipbone pressed against her waist. She could feel his smooth, hard chest beneath his thin T-shirt. Something stirred deep inside her, filling her with heat. When he leaned down to kiss her, Hanna was struck with shock. But the kiss felt so good, so right, that she couldn’t help kissing him back.
They pulled away, staring into each other’s eyes. The guy looked as shocked as Hanna felt. He cleared his throat. “Do you want to—”
“I think we should—” Hanna said at the same time.
They both stopped and chuckled. He grabbed her hand and pulled her through the crowd until they turned into a dark alley between one of the classroom buildings and an internet café called Networks. They ran down it crookedly, hand in hand, tripping over empty cardboard boxes and abandoned Coke and beer cans. The guy stopped, pulled Hanna to the wall, and started kissing her fervently. Hanna kissed him back, tasting his slightly salty skin, touching the sinewy muscles in his arms, burrowing her hands under his T-shirt. Never before had she felt so swept away.
Finally, they pulled away, panting hard. “Wow,” the guy whispered, out of breath. “This is . . . crazy.”
“I know,” Hanna said.
He gripped Hanna’s hands. “What’s your name?”
“Hanna.”
“I’m Liam,” he said.
“That’s the most beautiful name I’ve ever heard,” Hanna murmured dreamily, barely aware of what she was saying. She didn’t know what her body was doing. Her father was up on the stage now, giving a speech about voting and change for the better and all kinds of other optimistic political promises. Hanna knew she should be out there, being the good little campaign strategist, but she couldn’t tear herself away from Liam’s embrace. She wanted to stay here in this dingy alley for the rest of her life, with Liam.
Chapter 9
EMILY’S GOT A TYPE
“Smile!” Kay pulled Emily close and aimed her camera phone at both of them as they stood under the marquee at the Electric Factory, a music club in downtown Philly—the Chambermaids, Kay’s favorite band, was going on in an hour. Emily smiled as the flash went off, and then Kay inspected the screen. “You look super-cute! Your sister will love it.”
Kay pressed a few buttons, sending the image off to Beth, who was out with a friend tonight. She’d insisted Emily go alone, though. “You’re the one Kay wants,” she’d urged. “I guarantee you guys are going to hook up by the end of the night.”
Truthfully, Emily had been ecstatic when Kay had called her this morning asking if she wanted to hang out. All she could think of was the quick but electrically charged kiss at the party, of Kay dancing, unfettered, and of what Kay said at the end of the night: I’ll die if we don’t become friends. There was something dangerous and unpredictable about Kay. Hanging out with her gave Emily the same deliciously illicit feeling she used to get when watching an R-rated movie at Ali’s when she was younger: R movies were banned at the Fields house, which made Emily even more curious to see what they were all about.