Curse of the Wickeds (The Cinderella Society, Episode 2) (4 page)

Except I had the distinct impression the Smoochville part was sadly a one-sided fantasy.

Chapter Six

Thankfully, we had to motor if we wanted to catch the movie, so Ryan paid and I bailed to the ladies’ to get my act together. As I suspected, my face still had the faint telltale blotchiness known as post-blush syndrome. At least we were headed for an Adam Sandler movie. Some laughs would be the perfect thing to ease the tension and put me back into relax-o mode.

Ryan grabbed a large popcorn to share (how could he be hungry again?), a bottled water for me, and a soda for him, and nabbed us some middle-of-the-theater seats. The previews were ready to start, so there was little time for small talk. That worked out perfectly, since I was looking to chill my nerves anyway.

Now, if you’ve seen an Adam Sandler movie like
50 First Dates
or whatever, you know it’s mostly a guys’ comedy with a pinch of romance thrown in, so Adam always gets the girl. What I didn’t think about was what happens when Adam
gets
the girl.

I know. I’m slow, right? They kiss.

So I’m sitting there next to Ryan, knowing this is coming and not knowing how to react. Do I sit there and watch the on-screen kiss like it’s no big deal (which—hello?—it
is
. Their heads are two stories high!) or do I reach for a drink to distract myself without looking like I’m trying
not
to look? Since my water was gone, option number two was a no-go, and option number one wasn’t even a possibility, since I could already feel the embarrassed flush superheating my skin. I’d be shocked if I didn’t set off the emergency sprinklers. So I did the next best thing and reached into the bucket of popcorn to distract myself.

Twining my fingers with Ryan’s in the process.

Just as Adam went in for the lip-lock, Ryan gave me a questioning look and squeezed my fingers. Was that code for
Wanna make out now?
or
Nice try, honey, but it’s not that kind of date
or
Nice of your fingers to join mine; now please vamoose them so I can eat
?

Why was dating so complicated?!

Fortunately, it was a quick kissing scene, so I was off the hook, even though it took me a full ten minutes before my heart slowed to a normal pace. When the credits rolled, Ryan steered us out of the theater, and I went straight to the ladies’ again. A large bottled water had a way of doing that to a girl, but I also needed a chance to fully recover before the final leg of my dating adventure: the goodnight moment.

I didn’t want to look in the mirror this time, knowing full well my blotches would’ve sprouted blotches of their own, but I couldn’t resist. I covered up what I could with powder, ran a fresh coat of gloss over my lips, and popped a tiny mint. I rummaged around for a breath strip with no luck, so a second tiny mint joined the first. At least I hadn’t eaten the jambalaya.

By the time I reached the hallway, Ryan was surrounded by people from school. Some guys, but mostly girls. Including Fake Blondie.

“I’ve missed you, Ry,” she purred, practically rubbing her chest against his arm in front of everyone.
 

Self-control . . . ever heard of it? Clearly, Fake Blondie hasn’t.

Ryan looked perfectly comfortable being the center of attention, but his eyes lit up when he saw me, and he waved me over. A few quick introductions later, including one to Gennifer (with a
G
, she informed me—yep, that’s Fake Blondie), and he was leading me by the hand out into the evening air.

“Thanks for the save back there,” he said.

“You didn’t look like you needed saving,” I grumbled, feeling catty and insecure. But really, how could I compete with Fake Blondie and her blatant chestiness on my very first date? A girl could only hurdle so many obstacles in a single bound.

“Sometimes I like being alone.” Ryan squeezed my hand. “And sometimes I just want to be with you.”

My cattiness melted into a little kitty puddle.

We’d parked off to the side, and Ryan held my hand the whole way across the parking lot.

A point of distinction: Ryan has the most amazing hands. I’d admired them in the restaurant, but that didn’t hold a candle to feeling them up close and personal. They’re big and strong, with really nice fingers (not stubby at all) and clean fingernails. Holding his hand was the most amazing, solid, wonderful thing in the world. Our hands fit perfectly together, obviously a sign they were meant to be linked for all eternity.

You can’t argue with hand destiny.

My hand felt small and dainty in his, and when he wove our fingers together, I could’ve sworn I heard my heart sigh. Even if I’d had a lifetime of other hand-holding experiences to rate this one against, I was positive it still would’ve topped the scale.

Ryan opened my car door. “Where to?”

I still had an hour until curfew (a curfew being the latest, and least well-received, addition to the Parker family rulebook), so I danced a mental jig that he wanted to stay out longer. “Where do you usually go?”
Wait, don’t answer that!
“I mean, what’s your favorite place . . . you know, like a hangout?”

“You’re cute when you blush.”

I grimaced.
Cute
. Not gorgeous or hot or fantasy material, but cute. Like a little sister or a baby. Or a puppy.

Arf.

“That was supposed to be a compliment.”

I stared at my sandals. “Thanks.”
 

“But?”

“It’s just, you know,
cute
. Cute is your best friend’s little sister.”
Or Chihuahua.

“Ah, not the girl I’m having a blast with. The girl I can’t stop thinking about kissing.”

“Exactly.”

Wait, what?

“Then let me rephrase that.” He lifted my chin so I had to look up. Right into his eyes. “You’re amazing.”

Errant thoughts ambushed my already rattled brain.
Is this our first kiss?
Our first real one, I mean?
Do I have bad breath?
What if I—?

Oh. My.

Heaven.

The kiss was so gentle and so perfect I thought I might be dreaming it.

“Get a room!”

Except that we were in a parking lot.

The magic evaporated in an instant. Ryan backed away from me as the car of teenagers drove by. “Come on,” he said, tucking a stray hair behind my ear. “Let’s go.”

I hesitated long enough to convey my uncertainty. He put both hands behind his back and motioned with his shoulder toward the open door. “There’s no pressure, Jess. We don’t have to rush anything.”

I slid into my seat, and he closed the door behind me. He climbed in the driver’s side, gave me a quick glance I couldn’t read, and started the engine.

I took an extra-long time clicking my seat belt into place to keep my hands busy. “Where?” I asked, after my voice revived itself.

“Anywhere you want to go, as long as I’m with you.”

Chapter Seven

We ended up at The Grind for mocha shakes. Audrey gave a smile of approval at the sight of Ryan and me together.

Ryan was leading me toward a cozy table in the corner when we were interrupted again. “Steele! How you doin’, man?”

I saw a flash of frustration cross Ryan’s face before he turned around to smile at the voice behind us. “Hey, Nick,” he said, dropping my hand. “What’s up?”

Nick Case looked me up and down, sizing me up with his dreamboat eyes. “Who’s the sizzlin’ new girl?”

“Jess Parker, meet Nick Case—Mt. Sterling’s answer to Hugh Hefner,” Ryan said. “Don’t worry; I’ll protect you.”

I liked the sound of that. “Nice to meet you, Nick.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” he said, lifting my hand for a showy kiss before Ryan smacked him. Nick laughed. “We’ve got the round booths by the windows. Come on over.”

Ryan tensed. “We’re not staying long.”

“All the more reason to grace us with your presence.” Nick glanced at me. “We’re going into hero withdrawal now that we don’t get our daily Ryan fix at school.”

I could’ve sworn I saw Ryan’s jaw twitch, but his smile never wavered. “I don’t mind,” I offered just as Ryan said, “Maybe some other time.”

Oh.

We looked at each other. “Another time is fine too,” I hedged.

Ryan looked over at the table filled with, I was sorry to see, several Wickeds, a couple of their Villain boyfriends, and some other kids I didn’t know. Ryan glanced at me, then back at them, before shaking his head. “Some other time.”

Nick studied him for a minute. Shrugged. “You’re probably right.” He gave me a lady-killer smile that had zero impact on me. “Nice to meet you, Jess. Let me know if you need a private tour of our fine town. I know all the best spots.”

I’ll bet you do.

Nick sauntered away like the player he was, and when I turned back to Ryan, he was already headed toward the opposite corner. Without my hand.

After a few minutes of painfully stilted small talk—Adam Sandler was funny in the restaurant scene, the theater always puts too much salt in the popcorn—I noticed we were out of napkins. I mentioned it offhand, but Ryan immediately hopped up to grab some, even though neither of us had an urgent need for cleanup supplies.
 

I watched him at the counter, wondering how we’d gotten off track so quickly. Ryan got waylaid by a girl whose prominently displayed breasts put Fake Blondie’s to shame.

Why do some girls feel the need to expose every possible inch of skin?

It’s a topic that comes up a lot in youth group. How sometimes a girl’s self-image gets so low she uses her body to get attention. Which sounds like, duh, we already know that. She deserves better. So the idea of sending up a quick prayer that she’ll see her worth through God’s eyes seems like an obvious way to share some grace. Why wouldn’t you, right?

I closed my eyes for a second to try to muster up some grace. But it turns out it’s a totally different experience when it’s not theory anymore, and the girl is flaunting her assets to your date. What I really wanted to do was throw a trench coat over her and toss her out of the place.

Which might have said more about me than about her.

Possibly.

To avoid my reality—of Ryan’s abandonment and my complete lack of compassion—I focused on the Wickeds and Villains holding court in the opposite corner. In contrast to the pool party, the power positions at The Grind were the two large round booths anchoring the side wall. Since they were booths instead of tables, no one sat with their back to the audience. I mean, the action. Everyone had a full view, which meant every seat at the booth had power.

I watched as kids from school came in and out, trying to pretend that Ryan abandoning me was but a momentary thing that we’d mutually agreed upon. As if.

It was easy to tell who the targeted Reggies were. Their eyes immediately went to the power tables to see who was staked out there. They gave the tables a wide berth, even faking a trip to the restrooms so they could approach the counter from the side opposite the Wickeds when they came out. One even turned on her heel and fled the moment she laid eyes on the booths.

Some seemed just fine, chatting away with friends, until they noticed that one of the Wickeds was watching them with interest. Which usually led to a rapid departure, often out the side doors by the restrooms. The Wickeds didn’t even have to advance on them. The mere prospect of being a target was enough to put most Reggies on edge.

How on earth was I going to defeat that? Their power was relentless.

I shifted my attention back to Ryan and Boob Girl, which didn’t inspire a boost in my happy quotient. A surprise visitor on her way back from the ladies’ didn’t help matters either.

“Nice shirt, Parker,” Tina sneered. “I used to have one just like it before I gave it away to the Salvation Army. Glad it found a needy home.” Even though it was a brand-new purchase. “No wonder Ryan’s hiding you in a corner.”

“Aren’t you sitting in a corner too?”

“You wish.” Tina looked over at their table, which was—thank you—
in a corner
. She scowled. “At least where I sit is by choice, not because someone’s too embarrassed to be seen with me. Have a nice date.”

She flipped her glossy mane over her shoulder, swatting me with the strands, and rejoined her Wicked and Villain buds.

I kept a neutral expression on my face as I watched Ryan smile and talk to Boob Girl, but my nerves were shot. Just like Lexy, Tina had managed to find a weak spot and poke at it. Ryan finally glanced over at me, as did Boob Girl (who, I’m pretty sure, thrust her chest out a little extra on my behalf), and he gave her a final smile before heading back my way with a noticeably less enthusiastic smile in my direction.

“Napkin trouble?” I joked, wading in self-pity.

He stuffed the napkins in the holder. “Sorry about that. I got sidetracked.”

“That happens to you a lot.”

Ryan paused. “Yeah. I guess it does.” He looked at his watch, and I took that as my cue to wrap it up. Jess Parker as date material was about to get the boot.

I tossed the rest of my shake in the trash, giving a subtle shake of my head in response to Audrey’s questioning look, and kept pace with Ryan to the car.