“How much of that burger money are you looking to lose, Kyle?”
“I’m good for twenty dollars if you are. After all, we’ll probably both have, like, endorsement deals soon, so why not live a little, right?”
Rachel grinned. Not a full-on laugh, but a lot better than the pained, fake smile.
“When you sing, do little birds come and do your hair for you? I swear, Kyle, you’re the most sunshiney person I’ve ever met.”
“Naw, I’m just confident I got this one.”
“You’re confident about everything.” Rachel actually laughed. Score.
“Here.” I grabbed my phone and clicked on Flit, ignoring the several thousand notifications from the last twenty minutes. “I’ll prove it.”
“Oh god. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Rachel buried her face in her knees again, blushing. I scooted closer on the couch, so she’d be able to see the phone too. We were so close now I could smell her. Milky sweetness, roses, and some kind of herb. Focus, Bonham. All girls smell good.
“Apparently the show has an official hashtag, #FriesWithHomecoming.” I scrolled down until I saw her handle. “Look, here’s one about you. Zero trolling. Pay up.” I put the phone between us, right next to her leg. She moved her head slightly. I could feel her breath on my wrist, shallow and rapid.
@Bella18943: I love that @attackoftherach_face
slammed the door in @YourBoyKyle_B’s
face. At least bring burgers, amirite?
#FriesWithHomecoming
“That doesn’t count, it’s not really about me.” She was still partially curled up, but I could see her grinning a little. “Though a girl does like a burger, Kyle.”
“Fine, but only ’cause I like you.” I scrolled farther. Rachel leaned over the phone. Her hair brushed against my jaw. It tickled, but I didn’t want to brush it away. “Here.”
@ChiquitaDanita: @attackoftherach_face
has the best hair ever. Srsly jeals.
#FriesWithHomecoming
Rachel sighed elaborately. “I’d accuse you of cherry-picking to win the bet, but I didn’t lay down ground rules. I’ll get my wallet.”
She leaned forward to stand. I grabbed her wrist, wanting to keep her here. She turned, obviously startled, and stared at me with those huge brown eyes. Rachel’s eyes: so deep and dark you could drown in them.
“I’ll let you get by with an IOU on one condition.”
“What’s your condition?” She wasn’t smirking anymore. Without it, she looked . . . closer. Like a door had opened. I could feel my heart beating faster.
“You have to admit I’m right.”
“Right about what?”
“How awesome you were. How awesome you are.”
Rachel smiled so slowly, her lips parting a little. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, and they looked soft, like peach skin. Like something you’d want to taste.
“You drive a hard bargain, Kyle.”
“I’m a tough man, but fair.” I could feel myself leaning closer. Her eyes, lips, the skin of her cheek: magnetized.
“All right. Just this once. I guess I was kinda . . .” She rolled her eyes, grinning embarrassedly. “Awesome?”
“Not just this once. Always.”
She looked down, smiling but shaking her head, like she was humoring me. Like she didn’t believe me.
How could she not know I was telling the truth? She was funny, and smart, and just . . . different from other girls. And lately, the more time I spent with her, the more I looked at her right now, her curls tumbling over her cheeks, hiding just enough of her face that you couldn’t help but want to see more . . . she was beautiful. How had I never known before that Rachel was so beautiful?
I leaned in and kissed her. At first she was motionless, barely kissing me back. Then I felt her unfold, pressing her body along mine. Her tongue slipped into my mouth, and I wound my hand into her hair, pulling her closer, kissing her harder.
I didn’t hear the garage door open so much as feel it jolt through Rachel, the sound tensing her up. She pulled away, staring, eyes wide and a little scared. Her cheeks were redder than usual, and her hair was everywhere, a wild dark tangle. I could still taste her on my lips, she was still so close. . . .
A key started rattling in the back-door lock.
“I should go,” she said.
“It’s just my mom. I could introduce you.”
Rachel grabbed her phone off the table, looked around frantically for her bag.
“Kyle, are you in here? Whose car is that in the driveway?” Mom’s voice drifted out from the mud room.
Before I could think of anything good to say, she ran off down the hall.
chapter forty-one
RACHEL
MONDAY, 4:52 P.M.
Had that really happened? That couldn’t have happened.