Lucky Kisses Page 8

  “So, how do we do this?” I ask as the two of us stand with our trays and stare out at a sea of oblivious preteens. “I hated this part in junior high—heck, I hated it in high school, too.”

  “Really? I would have pegged you for the popular girl. I bet guys fought for the privilege of sitting next to you.”

  “Ha! More like repelled. I spent my time hiding out in the corner.” I spot a girl all alone, curled over her lunch tray like a snail, and my heart breaks. Her dark hair covers half her face. Her body is clad in black with shredded tights exposed as she hikes her foot up on the chair for comfort. “That was me. I passed the baton, and she’s running with it.” My words melt to nothing as my entire body aches for her. I pray she is nothing like me, not in the slightest.

  “Then that’s what we do. Why don’t you go sit with your Goth friend and I’ll find a friend of my own? Nobody likes to sit alone. If anything, we can cure that. Maybe we can get some of these kids to congregate a little better before our stint here is done.”

  Lawson offers a sympathetic smile in lieu of that dirty grin he usually sports, and there’s something about his simple yet brilliant idea that makes it suddenly impossible to take my eyes off this boy. Lawson Kent has a beating heart after all, and he’s wearing it on his sleeve today for all to see. How about that.

  “Wow,” I marvel. “It looks like someone remembered his super cape this afternoon. Let’s divide and conquer all these lonely hearts. I’ll see you in an hour.” I take off and carefully approach my hairy-not-really-that-scary little friend, and before I know it, Emily and I have struck up a serious conversation regarding The Hobbit and the life-altering illumination Tolkien has offered up to the world. Just like that, the bell rings, alerting me to the fact that an hour has drifted by faster than I could’ve imagined, and soon my little friend and I part ways, both with a satisfied smile. I spot Lawson across the room hugging it out with a scrawny looking boy with hair the color of a flaming Cheeto, and my heart explodes in a nuclear blast as if I just spotted the cutest puppy on the planet. But more so than that, it was Lawson’s heart that exploded all over this cafeteria today. Nowhere in sight is that bullish ego of his. Nope. He left that at the door of his frat house. This afternoon is all about kindness toward a kid who probably needed it most.

  Lawson comes over and offers me a quick high five. “We killed it. My new buddy, Freddy, is eternally happy we’ll be making regular rounds in the caf.”

  “We get to kill it again as often as we like.” I shrug. There’s no real limit on how long our project lasts.

  “Sounds like you and I have a very important job to do Monday through Friday.”

  “Wow, you and I conquering the world at lunchtime? Who would have thought our combined superpowers would be enough to reshape the walls of my old stomping grounds?”

  “I went here, too.” He gives a sly wink.

  “Really?” I laugh at the thought of little Lawson tooling around with his backpack square over his shoulders. “I would have pegged you for an Academy boy.” The Academy is an exclusive private school tucked high up on Hollow Brook’s wealthy wing where the common plebs seldom trek.

  “I was. But that came later once my father came to his senses.” He butts his shoulder into mine as we make our way to the parking lot. “I’m teasing. This is a great school. And, truth be told, I learned just as much here as I did at that pricey school I was shuttled off to each day. And now look at us. We’re both at Briggs together.” He squints into the sun, and there’s something about the way the tangerine light hits him that makes my muscles tense. “There’s a game tomorrow at five. You should come by. Ava says you’ve got a job down at your brother’s shop, and that’s why we haven’t seen you at any.”

  “You should be glad I’ve been missing games. I’d probably jinx you anyway.” My cheeks burn at the thought of Lawson noticing my absence. Most likely because he had peace for once. My specialty seems to be getting under his skin—not that I mind. Getting under Lawson Kent’s skin seems to be what I’m best at these days. Besides, tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, and I happen to have a very real aversion to that heart-shaped catastrophe.

  “I’m too good for you to jinx.” He tousles my hair again, only this time it feels as if he’s actually running his fingers through it to feel how silky it is—at least that’s my running narrative. And just like that, he takes his hand back like pulling it out of a fire. “Sorry about that.”

  “You better be,” I tease. “I’ve got a hot date in an hour, and I need to emulate perfection.”

  “Hot date, huh?” He unlocks his truck, and it burps to life. “Who’s this date with?” His chest expands as if whoever this boy is he’s destined for a beating, and I laugh at the idea. Having Jet and Rush as my big brothers is more than enough. I certainly don’t need to add Lawson to the roster. I don’t think I’d want to.

  “Professor Davis—sociology. We’re studying all things insignificant in society, and then I’ll be forced to spend my weekend piecing together my loose thoughts on the subject into a work of literary art.” I wrinkle my nose. “On second thought, maybe the date’s not so hot.” I give a brief wave and head to my own truck.

  “That’s right—because all of your hot dates are with me, princess.”

  I turn and howl out a laugh right at him. “You wish!”

  “Let’s carpool tomorrow.”

  “Okay, but only because I care about going green. Trust me, I’m not looking to verify the fact you were crowned a prince.”

  “You’ll be begging me to see it soon enough.”

  “You wish!” I hop into my truck and give him the finger as I drive past him.

  The finger and a smile.

  Now there’s something new.

  Jet lets me off the hook to go to the game Friday night. I sit next to Ava and Harper, and we scream our heads off for the Whitney Briggs Mustangs. I’m not that into sports, but for some reason, becoming a college freshman has me rooting for my home team as if every one of those boys were family. Ava keeps talking about Grant, keeps shouting his jersey number—twenty-one—like his life depends on her enthusiasm, but my eyes keep gravitating toward number five—the number on the back of a very sweaty, bicep bulging, eyes trained on me for three quarters of the game, Lawson Kent.

  “You sure he hates you?” Harper gnaws on her big box of Gummy Bears. Lately it’s her go-to snack. In fact, it’s all I ever see the girl eat with any consistency.

  “He hates me,” I affirm. Not really hate hate, but I suppose on some level there is a very real disdain for me. I’m pretty good at rubbing people the wrong way without even trying, and with him I’ve tried and succeeded beyond my wildest dreams.

  Lawson runs up and down that court for the duration of the entire game. By the time that final buzzer goes off, he’s glossy with sweat from his efforts, and his hair drips down in strings around his forehead. But, dear God Almighty, there is a very real attraction to a boy who just helped bring home the victory.

  We head down to the court, and for some unknown reason, my heart starts thumping like a war drum. Earlier today, Lawson and I drove out to the middle school again like it was no big deal. I’ve seen him around campus so much that I hardly give him a second thought, but something about being here on the court, on his turf, during his biggest victory to date—Ava let me in on that little tidbit—makes me feel lightheaded and my anxiety soars past the domed ceiling we’re under.

  “Good show!” Ava flings herself over Grant like an accessory, and their ongoing make-out session resumes. Harper does the same to Lawson minus the kiss. They really seem to be taking their little sister/big brother relationship seriously, which I’m glad, considering Harper is very much in love with the invisible Justin who I’m beginning to doubt exists. It’s been a month, and I still haven’t seen this boy in the flesh. At least Harper has one normal relationship with a male. And just like that, my stomach twists at the thought of Harper having a relationship with Lawson. She stalks
off into the crowd before my anger can properly percolate toward her.

  “Good show.” I mock Ava’s enthusiasm to Lawson, and he laughs as if we were in on some private joke.

  Ava comes up for air and turns to me. “We’re headed to Hallowed Grounds for a round of victory PB and Js. You should join us.”

  “Are you kidding? Thanks! I’ve always wanted to be a third wheel on someone’s very first Valentine’s date!” I avert my eyes and shake my head at the idea. “No thanks. That was nice of you to ask, though.”

  Ava swats me. “It’s going to be fast. Harper is coming, and we get to meet Justin.” Her eyes widen because we’ve had more than several late night chats regarding the invisible man.

  Grant gives Lawson a shove. “This doofus is coming, so you won’t feel left out.”

  Ava nods. “It’ll be twenty minutes max, then we’re all splitting up and doing our own thing.” She pulls Grant in. “First Valentine’s Day in the making!”

  “Can’t wait to witness it.” I look to Lawson, and he fires off an unenthused wink as if he feels the same.

  Once the boys shower, we head over to Hallowed Grounds, get our coffee and requisite PB and Js—a testament to Ava and Grant’s love story since the breaded treat seems to have played an integral part in it. We make small talk about the game, our classes, and even the weather until a shadow darkens our table.

  We look up only to find a baby-faced guy who looks as if he could easily show up to Hollow Brook Middle School and matriculate into the student body.

  “Here you are!” Harper jumps up and wraps her arms around him with hyper enthusiasm. But the baby-faced boy I’m assuming is Justin doesn’t seem to share her exuberance. Instead, he gives a half-hearted pat to her back before pulling away.

  “What’s up, babe?” His voice is brooding and slightly angry, not at all how one might imagine him to sound. And the way he called her babe, it came off greasy than it ever did adorable.

  Bleh. There’s something about him that I find instantly off-putting, and I glance to Ava who gives a slight nod my way as if coming to the same conclusion.

  Harper does a quick round of introductions, and I scoot over, making room for Justin-the-Visible, which lands me right opposite of Lawson.

  Both Ava and Grant and Harper and Justin lose themselves in their cooing and groping—and I find the lack of consideration for poor Lawson and me staggering. They don’t actually expect us to carry on a conversation of our own, do they? I thought the entire point of this little PB and J aphrodisiac run was to congratulate one another on another stellar win?

  “So, how about those Mustangs?” I ask, leaning hard over the table to make myself heard amongst the slurping of one another’s faces. “What a magnificent point spread!” I’m just assuming there was one. I may have been enthused about the game, but that is a far cry from understanding it. “Good job decimating the other team.” I look to Lawson who mouths a very polite thank you.

  Now it’s Lawson’s turn to try to garner the attention of the suck-face society.

  “So, Justin—” he says it so loud half the café turns around as if it were suddenly everyone’s moniker—“how do you like Briggs?”

  “It’s cool.” Justin actually breaks his suction with Harper to answer, and they both gasp for air as if they were holding one another under water. “Good-looking chicks.” He winks at Harper, but Ava and I exchange another curious glance. “You got yourself some competition, babe.” He thumps his hand over hers, and she breaks out into wild titters.

  Ava kicks me under the table, and this time we openly grimace at one another. It’s not that we don’t want to like the guy. It’s just that it’s quickly becoming an impossible feat.

  Lawson growls at him as if his big brother defenses are kicking in, and I find the idea of it very sweet. “So, what brings you to WB?” I throw my hat into the keep-them- from-Frenching ring.

  Justin slouches like a worn-out coat. “I lost my standing at my old school for some stupid shit. My dad pulled some strings and got me into Briggs. Had to leave the right coast to get here, if you know what I mean.”

  Harper leans back with a look of surprise. “I thought you transferred over because you missed me?”

  “I did miss you. Why do you think I had to manipulate my way here? And here I am.” He dots her lips with a kiss and pulls back with his lids half-closed. “Doing what I do best—you.”

  “Gross,” I say it under my breath, and Ava offers up another swift kick.

  Grant looks at his watch. “We’d better get going or we’re going to miss out on what I have planned for the rest of the night.”

  “It’s a surprise!” Ava trills as they wave and dash for the door.

  Justin pulls Harper to her feet with the finesse of a cave man and grunts something about her being on top as they take off as well.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day.” I smirk at the empty chairs. “Go on,” I bark at the last man standing. “Scat. I know for a fact there’s a party at Beta house. Go get your groove on or whatever it is you’re calling it these days. The student store has been dutifully restocking their condom aisle all afternoon, and if you move fast, they might still have the variety dotted with miniature hearts on the shelves.”

  He closes his eyes and shakes his head as if disgusted with the thought. “I don’t do hearts. In fact, I don’t do girls on this heart-dotted night in fear I’ll give someone the wrong impression.”

  “Wow,” I marvel with a little too much glee. “So, you actually abstain on the busiest booty night of the year? I bet the little prince is glad to hear it. I’m assuming he’s yet to make his raw and bloodied debut. Hey, if you need the name of a good tampon, I can help you out with that.”

  That goofy grin of his glides right off. “You’re a riot.”

  “I warned you I was a ball.” I lift my PB and J to him as if offering up a toast.

  He reaches over and snatches up the other half of my sandwich after already polishing off his own. “So, what are you doing tonight other than reading the fine print on your tampon box to see if it’s strong enough for a dude, yet made for a woman?”

  “Now look who’s the riot.” I take a few aggressive swigs of my coffee, buying time to formulate some plan of action that doesn’t involve a wad of cotton that I impale myself with routinely. “I’m hanging out. Catching up on my favorite shows. And before you say it—yes, I really do know how to have a good time.”

  His expression dims, and his lips twist into what amounts to a pout. “That does sound like a good time.”

  “What are you up to?” It comes out a little quieter, with almost zero sarcastic inflection, and I’m beginning to worry about myself.

  “My dad is selling the house I grew up in. I thought I’d swing by and say goodbye to my old room before they box it up and turn it into an open house showcase.”

  “I take it old sweat socks and porn magazines don’t add much to a home’s value anymore.”

  “Nope, the good old days are gone—in every single way.” He taps his hand over the table. “Come with me.”

  “What?” I blink back my surprise. “What do you have planned?” I squint over at him as if I’m onto his wicked scheme, but really there’s nary a wicked scheme on the horizon.

  “Nothing. I was just going to catch up on all of my favorite shows. All of my buddies are busy hooking up. Every girl on the planet is off-limits. That leaves—”

  “Me.” A girl I want to remind him but don’t.

  Lawson drives us to the far end of Hollow Brook, up into the switchbacks that lead to a population far less dense than that of the rest of the town. The only time I’ve ever been in the hills was the summers I spent by the pool at the Toberman’s house. I’ll never forget walking into their overgrown home for the very first time and thinking they lived in a museum—one that I would have happily traded the tiny hovel I grew up in for. I shake those hazy, crazy days of my childhood as far out of my mind as possible.

  “He
y—I just thought of something.” I bounce in my seat as we continue to climb elevation into the starless night. “This is my first Valentine’s Day date.”

  “It’s not a date, sweetheart.” Lawson doesn’t waste any time in making the correction. “I mean, you know, not like that. Just because I’m about to introduce you to the sock sculpture I’ve been working on for the last decade and a half doesn’t make us official.”

  “If that sock sculpture talks back, then it’ll make us both certifiable.” I cringe inwardly at how lame that barb was. It’s as if the closer we get to Lawson’s not-so-humble abode, the more my sarcastic superpowers—which I truly covet—seem to wane. What kind of night will this be if I can’t have a little passive-aggressive fun with my most prized micropenis?

  A part of me wants to fill him in on my internal ramblings, but I’m rendered tongue-tied by the fact I’m with a boy, miles from WB, on this, the most celebrated night for all things coital. That secret, tender part of me quivers at the idea of anything coital happening tonight—wait just a Whitney Briggs’ minute. I’m not into Lawson in that way. No way, no how. Am I?

  We park up a steep driveway, and Lawson comes around and helps me navigate my way to the house without breaking a leg in the dark.

  Instead of using a key, he rings the bell, and I find that both strange and formal.

  “They’re newlyweds.” He shrugs. “After they got married, I came home and bumped into my dad wearing nothing but his boxers. That was enough to scar me for life. So the doorbell it is.”

  “Good call.” Dear God, I can only pray his father is wearing far more than just a pair of boxers.

  A kind-looking man with an open face and traces of Lawson in his eyes, opens the door and lets us in. Lawson and he hug it out just as an older woman walks in with a robe and slippers.

  “Dad, Lynette”—Lawson offers her a brief hug, too, and something about this family love-fest makes me wish Jet and I had this kind of familial affection growing up—“this is my good friend, Lucky.”