“Wear safety goggles. Those books have a way of trying to knock you out. I should know. Hey, school starts tomorrow. You ready to begin instructional duties?”
“Yup. Already found my favorite student.”
“No way.”
“Yes,” I say, exhilarated by the thought. “Wrote up a syllabus just for her.”
“I bet you did. You fucking perv.” He says it with a marked sense of pride.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Pennington struts in with his thin frame puffed out, his glazed expression that lets me know he’s already high as a kite at this early hour.
“I bet he rolls his joints with your daddy’s Benjamins.” Cal spits out exactly what I was thinking, and I give a little laugh. Then an idea comes to me.
7
Kendall
The Date
After Zumba, my limbs rebel and quietly petition to secede from the union of my torso. Okay, not so quietly. Every muscle in my body is on fire and rioting in protest to my sudden faux interest in fitness. I hit Starbucks afterwards as a show of affection to my poor earthly frame. I thought about asking Cruise to join me on my quest for the perfect cup of Joe, but I’d hate for him to think I’m clingy and needy. The last thing I want him to feel around me is like he can’t breathe. But God, how I’d love to smother him—preferably with my chest.
Snow covers the ground in smooth, sparkling sheets, a visual treat that I’m in no way prepared for. It’s as if the landscape of my heart magically transformed into a fairytale much like this new world I’ve touched down in. Cruise is the sparkling magic. He’s adhered himself to that secret place inside me that I once denied existed. He’s molded himself perfectly over my heart, my soul, my marrow. And now I can never let go. How will I ever tell him the truth? That I don’t want twenty boys on speed dial—that I only want one. And that he just so happens to be the one in question.
Carrington glows a resplendent shade of lavender, dressed in a winter wonderland that up until now, I had only seen in movies. I don’t know what possessed my mother to pack up on a whim and move clear across country—trade paradise for smog and traffic. The fact my grandmother passed away around the same time she graduated might have played into it, but still, now that I see how nice everyone is here, and how stunning the scenery is, I never want to go back to California. Although, I guess if she didn’t hit the West Coast, she would never have met “the loser surfer” she hooked up with and spawned my brother, and me.
I glance inside Starbucks and the line looks incredibly long, but I venture in anyway. The thick scent of roasted coffee lights up my senses. God, I love this smell. If this out of body experience I’ve been enjoying with Cruise had a fragrance, this would definitely be it. They should have a coffee named after him—Kisses with Cruise. I’d drink it down by the pitcher—get on my knees and let them pour it down my throat like a beer bong.
A group of cackling girls walk in behind me, and I’m quick to secure a place in line. I glance over the counter and don’t see any sign of Lauren or Ally. Honestly, I can’t remember which one works here.
I hope Lauren’s okay. Last I saw her, she looked heartbroken over the idea her boyfriend might be cheating.
A vision of Cruise with that girl in the thigh-highs he almost took home that first night shoots through me, and a wild pang of jealousy cinches my stomach. Just the thought of him touching her, his oven-hot hands searing over her flesh the way they did mine makes my heart drop like a stone.
I shake the thought away and distract myself by counting out the people ahead of me. If they each take five minutes, then I’ll safely be here a solid hour.
“Next!” A friendly voice calls from over the counter and Ally waves at me. The line moves briskly now that two baristas are at the helm, and I step over to her in less than ten minutes. “How’s it going?”
“Great. I can’t get over how gorgeous the world looks covered with snow.” I dig out my wallet. “Venti, iced mocha.”
“Iced huh? You really are from California.” She leans in. “ Hey, that girl in the corner over there…” I follow her gaze to the back where a teenage girl sits. She has a tissue pushed into her face, and it looks as if she can’t stop crying. “That’s Cruise’s sister, Molly,” she whispers. “Maybe you can see what’s got her so broken up. She’s been sobbing for the last half-hour.”
I take in a breath at the sight of her. “Oh, I totally will. I know how it feels to be crapped on by kids at school. I bet she’s dealing with some serious bullying issues. High school is nothing but a hotbed of bitches.”