Almost (45 page)

Corey grins at Michelle and puts his arm around her. “I'm
so
gone on this girl. Has anyone noticed that?”

Gran makes it to the porch and locks the door. She looks happy, but choked up like she is not ready to talk just yet.

“I'll never forget you
Corey Nash
,” I say to Gray. He laughs and hands me the iPhone he's recovered. Gray puts one arm around me, and the other around Gran before placing a quick kiss on each of our cheeks.

“I'll make sure you forget every guy but me,
Jess Jordan
. And that's a promise I mean to keep.”

Oh, that voice.

Chapter Forty

Gray

“I didn't think it could be done, but you two pulled it off.” Mr. Foley pauses to survey us unpacking the last boxes for the
DigiToyTech
tradeshow. The Geekstuff.com booth is almost complete. “If either one of you want a real job next summer, all you have to do is call. It's been one hell of a good thing having you two work for me this summer.”

I set down the giant titanium basket overflowing with plastic frogs and ladybugs, and start dialing my phone. “I'm leaving you a message right now, sir. I'd love a summer job. But hopefully, you'll let me work during the rest of the year? Percy says you always have spots in shipping for people who need a flexible schedule.”

I nod at
Percy-from-Shipping
who's setting up the LightSticks. The tradeshow doors haven't opened yet, but we'd all seen the huge line of people outside when we'd pulled into the giant parking structure's loading dock. It's now or never for me to seal this deal. Mr. Foley's happy with my work and running on a pre-conference high. Hopefully he won't refuse me.

“I think we could work something out. Why do you need the flexible schedule?” Mr. Foley adds, tossing me a suspicious glance. The guy misses nothing.

“Varsity ice hockey. I need to be available for games, scout showcases, anything that will help me hook a scholarship. I'm hoping for DU.”

Mr. Foley grins. “That's where I went to college, son. You pull off the grades to get in to that school
and
score a spot on the DU Hockey team, then my company will match whatever scholarships you bring in. We do it for all employees. And heck yes, I'll give you a flexible schedule—but you'll have to get me DU versus The Colorado College game tickets. Hockey's what got you the second interview, but those tickets in my hand could launch your career.”

“Oh, I remember,” I smile, shooting Jess a wink and running to help her haul a second titanium ladybug and frog filled basket to the back side of the booth.

“And that reminds me,” Mr. Foley continues, “Porter, those puck protectors, and your other product suggestions from your interview are still something I would like to consider. Let's schedule some time to revisit those before the summer ends.”

“If you say so, Sir. I'd be honored to see some of my ideas turned into products.”

“
That's
what you had in that backpack?” Jess fires one of her darkest glowers. I grin back as Mr. Foley moves to the far side of the booth. The girl is so cute when she's making that face. “
That's
what you never showed me?” She's ranting on. “Mr. Foley
was
going to hire you over me, and you knew it.”

“He was not. Your stuff—the bumper stickers—were way better,” I argue, leaning forward to breathe a small kiss into her ear. “The job was all yours and you knew it,” I add. Though she's working hard to keep her face straight I can't miss the goose bumps I've caused on her arms and the sides of her neck.

She shivers and I could swear she's staring at my lips as some twisted version of revenge against me. And it's working.

Undaunted, I shake my head and smile, whispering in her ear again, “If you keep staring at me like that, we're both going to get fired because I'm honestly about to plant one on you in front of the boss. Later, can we trade badges so I can sigh at your photo for the rest of the day?”

“Shut up.” Her cheeks turn that adorable pink shade I love. She turns to pull her basket forward a few feet and tosses her hair to the side so it's out of the way. The ends of it brush against my arm and I'm hit with a whiff of lethal peach cinnamon heaven, and I have to concede. She's won. Killed me, actually.

It's all I can do to keep my face calm while I fight against my own rush of goose bumps and rush of other things. I meet her too knowing smirk and retreat a few steps. I vow not to stare at her lips or get near her again until I can thoroughly kiss every inch of that cute smile away for revenge.

“This is going to be one long tradeshow, isn't it,” I mutter. Bitter and already breaking my vow as I my gaze consumes the small upturned corners of her mouth. “
Damn.
”

She giggles. “I love when you talk to yourself. So cute.”

“
You're
so cute.”

Percy clears his throat and sighs behind us. “I'm glad you worked out your problems, but man, are you two disgustingly annoying.”

Jess giggles again and I step away before she accidentally double-destroys me. I'm two seconds from needing ice thrown on my head—or down my pants.

Mr. Foley, who'd missed all of our blatant flirting, turns and calls over his shoulder, “Jessica, Gray's product ideas reminded me of yours. Once this tradeshow is finished, we'll try to bring some of those bumper stickers to market as well.
Those
we can have in the works and heading for the website before you finish the internship. How's that sound? You guys have really upped the scale for what we'll expect out of next year's interns.”

Jess beams at Mr. Foley. “You mean it? That sounds awesome. Thanks!”

She shoots me an odd look, marching over to where Mr. Foley is setting up the Macintosh computers that are for the online order kiosks. “Mr. Foley, do you think you can tell me…which one of us you would have hired for the internship? You know? If you could have only chosen
one
of us? Would it have been me or Gray? Do you remember?”

“Relentless, stubborn one,” I mutter.

Jess hears me and notches her chin one inch higher as she shoots me her best smirk. Mr. Foley stops and taps his finger on the table in front of him. “Yes. I remember.”

“And?” She blinks.

I hold my breath, wondering why this hurts a little…why she cares?

“Does it matter?” Mr. Foley's brow creases as though he didn't want to say. “It all turned out so well.”

Jess, like she'd been holding her breath too, takes in a deep breath, smiles a genuine smile at Mr. Foley, giving her head a little shake. “No. No. You're right. I never want to know. It's been perfect. Every second. I don't know why I asked.”

My heart starts beating again and I let out a long breath.

Jess hears me, and sends me a teasing smirk. Then, she clears her expression to one I know is really
her
. She looks at me—into me—and smiles all the way to my heart.

I'm happy too, because I know that some of the light-blue sparkle in her eyes is connected to her love for me. She told me so, last night, over and over again. She also likes my dimple, my eyes and the shape of my chin! I'm the luckiest guy in the world.

She won't stop staring, but I can't look away either.

Because I can't kiss that smile until we're off the clock, I return it and add in a wink that causes her to blush.

She also admitted that she loves my winks.

THE END

Resources

1 out of every 6 American women
has been the victim of an attempted or completed rape in her lifetime (14.8% completed rape; 2.8% attempted rape).

17.7 million American women
have been victims of attempted or completed rape.
(From the National Institute of Justice & Centers for Disease Control & Prevention. Prevalence, Incidence and Consequences of Violence Against Women Survey. 1998.)

31% of victims develop some form of Rape-Related Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
(National Center for Victims of Crime & Crime Victims Research and Treatment Center, 1992).

The numbers listed here are only based on USA “reported” cases only. The unreported, the unmentioned and “never told” numbers are devastatingly higher than what's listed here. If you've experienced your own ALMOST or worse, you're not alone. It was not your fault. Please don't let what happened win or allow it to defeat your spirit.

For more information contact:

Rape, Abuse, and Incest National Network (RAINN)
National Sexual Assault Hotline
2000 L Street, NW, Suite 405
Washington, DC 20036
Phone: (202) 544-1034
Toll-free: (800) 656-HOPE (4613)
[email protected]
www.rainn.org

National Sexual Violence Resource Center
123 North Enola Drive
Enola, Pennsylvania 17025
Toll-free: (877) 739-3895
Phone: (717) 909-0710
Fax: (717) 909-0714
TTY: (717) 909-0715
www.nsvrc.org

National Center for Victims of Crime
2000 M Street NW, Suite 480
Washington, DC 20036
Phone: (202) 467-8700
Fax: (202) 467-8701
TTY/TDD: 1-800-211-799
www.ncvc.org

Your local rape crisis center:
Check in the front of your local phone book under “Community Services Numbers” or “Emergency Assistance Numbers” or Google your city name and “rape crisis center”.

Acknowledgements

To my amazing family: Tom, Kika and Wilson
: You suffered through many last minute trips to the burrito place because of me and this project. You held my hand every time I cried, you convinced me not to quit with your notes, poems, quiet support, cute “keep-writing” crafts, and your never-ending belief in me. Seven years is a LOT of burritos, and even more love. Thanks and Thanks.

To my parents, all four of you:
Louise & Louis Nelson, Chuck & Connie Powers,
my dear in-laws,
Bob & Jackie MacFarlane
, and the rest of my awesome-huge-family including those far away in
Canada, Italy and Spain.
Thanks for believing and sharing this ride with me for all these years. I love you all so much. Please, everyone: Try to stop getting older. I do not like it.

To
Lana Williams & Michelle Major Duytschaever:
Dream sharers, writing warriors, master storytellers, story structure lovers, moms, and true friends. If we'd never met, or if one of us had quit (and I know we've all been on that fence) I would've never laughed so deeply, cried so hard or learned so much without you two in my life. I'm truly grateful for you two. Thanks for the tribunals, the 10PP, the vision boards, making me live The Secret, holding on to my heart so carefully, and reading and editing everything. Again. And again. And again.

@ThrivingWriters,
I love you.

To
Dawn Nash, Cathy Sheldon, Susan Clark, Erin Weller, and Susan Offen
: Thanks for having awesome, perfectly honorable freshmen boys when I was writing this story. Your boys make up all the best that became my characters, Gray Porter. You answered questions about hockey, the secret life of boys growing up, listened to pitches, and gave me your constant friendship and support. And to those boys, who soon will be amazing, honorable men. Thanks for being in my life. Listen to your moms. They are awesome.

To
Sharon and Ana Rosa,
my only adult, non-writing readers, and dearest friends. I could not breathe without you.
Deb W. and Susan B.
fearless mom-world-changers and activists. I hope this makes you proud. And to my scattered, too-busy-to-meet
Book-Club Ladies
and
Celtic Steps friend-family.
Thanks for being there for the whole seven years, and for once in awhile, asking how things were going.

A special shout-out to
Giovanna & Elmer Mercado
, my other parents. My sanity. My friends. Without you two, and your deep love, I would have no success, no prayers at lunch and probably, no garden fun in the summer. Thanks for seven years of your unconditional love. I love you back.

Strider
Dear, sweetest dog. Thanks for sitting in the hallway outside my office, every darn day. Your eyes never doubt me, and the way you hold that tennis ball in your mouth cracks me up. Best. Dog. Ever.