I Kissed The Boy Next Door (7 page)

I sat down on the front of his bed, right where I blocked his view of the computer.

He shoved at me. “Let off, Luce. I’m not into your schemes. Don’t you ever learn? Not everything you do works out to your advantage. You’re dealing with real people’s lives.”

He was right, and that was precisely why I was serious about this.

“Well then, hear me out because helping real people is my reason.”

He gazed up at me.
“This involve that boyfriend of yours?”

“Maybe it does, and I can’t tell you why. You’ll have to trust me.”

That was like asking the mouse to trust the cat. Impossible.

He glared at me
. “I’ll hear you, but I’m making no promises.”

“I want to find his mom.”

And Tray backed up on the bed, his hands waving before him. “Oh no. I’m not going there with you.”

“Of course, you aren’t,” I said. “This is my doing. I simply need you to find the name of a hospital.”

“A hospital.” His face said he didn’t believe me.

“Yes. You find me the hospital, and you’re off the hook.”

He sat up, his legs crossed. “How exactly do I do that?”

“Well, that part I haven’t figured out yet. But once I get some more info, I’ll feed it to you and you do your little internet-
searchy thing.”

He was still skeptical, and he had every right. I wouldn’t trust me either.

“Besides,” I said. I was about to wave my trump card at him. I could taste success. “If you don’t I’m telling Mom about Susan Bell.”

He got cold, ice cold, iceberg floating in my drink cold. Susan Bell was the last thing on the planet he wanted Mom to know about. Even this many years later, even two years into college, he wanted it hushed up.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he said.

I shot him my fiercest look. “Now, when have you ever known me to turn down a dare?”

***

A hand on his mouth woke him up. Jackson stared wide-eyed into Lucy’s face. She was hovering over him
, her hair making wings around her face.

“Don’t yell,” she said. She r
eleased his mouth.

“What are you doing? And what time is it?” he asked.

“Almost three.”

He started.
“A.M.?”

“No, afternoon, silly.
Yes, a.m. Don’t you want to see the meteor shower?”

Meteor shower.
That was news to him. He hadn’t heard there was one.

“Sure,” he said.

“Then get up.”

But he lay there, unmoving.

She placed her hands on her hips. “What are you waiting for?”

And he couldn’t stop the smile from crossing his face. He sat up, the bed sheet falling to his waist.

Her eyes spread and her mouth cracked a tad. The pulse in her throat sped. “You … no shirt.”

He laughed at her. “No shirt, yes. Is that a problem?”

“N-no, not a problem.”

“That’s good. Your brother doesn’t go without his shirt?”

Her mouth gaped open; she snapped it closed. “Travis? Travis isn’t … isn’t you.” Her face cleared. “So put a shirt on and come out.”

“I will, but …”

“But what?” She was exasperated.

“I haven’t any pants on either.”

He snickered as she backed up and stumbled over his shoes. Until she smacked into the wall. Then he held his breath. When no noise came from his father, he exhaled.

“I … I should go … out,” she said.
“Outdoors. I’ll wait. Outside.” She sat in the sill and swung her legs over and leaped.

He had a good silent laugh before donning his discarded blue jeans and finding a shirt. He then followed suit, landing bare-footed on the lawn. She was sitting in the grass on the property line.

“Look!” she said.

He followed the trail of her finger
s to where they met the black sky and spotted the tiny zips of light. Seating himself at her side, he brought his knees up to his chest.

“
Isn’t it magical?” she asked. “Just think. That’s over everyone, everyone in the whole world, and we’re all so small in the face of it. And God’s up there, thinking, ‘What’s the big deal? I can do that with my breath.’”

“He breathes meteors?” Jackson said.

She scowled at him. “Don’t ruin it. I’m being poetic.”

He pulled back a laugh.

“You think this is funny, but honestly, have you ever thought about it?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Like three years ago, after summer camp ended and you moved away, technically we were still under the same sky, looking at the same moon.” She lay back on the lawn, and he drank in the curve and shape of her, the flush on her cheeks, the sparkle in her eye. She was so sincere. She meant what she said and that was something he’d been missing lately.

“Why are you looking at me and not the sky?” she asked. “You’re missing it.”

He lowered himself onto his elbow, her face but a hairs-breadth away. “I’m seeing all I want to see.”

She sucked in her breath. “That was the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“Anyone?” he asked. “No boy has ever told you how beautiful you are or how you make his day just that much better? How you run through his mind when you’re not around?”

She shook her head. “No. Have … have you ever said that to anyone else?”

He smiled softly. “I never quite got the kiss of a certain girl out of my system. I’d see other girls and think they were attractive. I even asked one to a school dance once. But the minute they got serious at all, that girl’s face would come back to me.”

“It … it would?”

“Mmmhmm. There was something about her, some rare quality that I really liked.” He lowered himself toward her mouth.

“What was it?” she asked.

He could almost taste her, the saltiness of her skin, the sweetness of her lips.

Then a voice shot through the darkness.
“Lucy? What are you doing?”

Travis.
They leaped apart, and Lucy scampered to her feet. “Go,” she said, “I’ll stall.”

Jackson crawled across the lawn and slithered in the
window. But as he gripped the glass to slide it closed, he heard her voice filter through the darkness.

“Tray, you
goon, I’m looking at the meteors and now you’ve scared them all away.”

Chuckling, Jackson crawled back into bed.

CHAPTER 10

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

Annoyed, I snaked my hand out from underneath the bed covers and
slapped my phone on the night stand. Unfortunately, I hit the side of it and sent it skittering off into the floor. I heaved a sigh and dragged myself over the side of the mattress, blood rushing to my head. And found it had done what errant phones do and hid under the bed.

“Silly phone,” I said as I pulled it from the floor. Falling
back onto the pillow, I brought the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

“
You’re still sleeping?”

Jackson.
I pushed my hair out of my face.

“What time is it?”

“Eleven.”

“Eleven!” I sat up quick and the blood that was formerly in my head ru
shed tingling down into my hands making me whoozy. “You didn’t wake me up.”

He laughed
. “I figured I’d let you sleep in.”

Twisting myself into a sitting position, I gazed out my bedroom window toward his, but his room was empty.

“Where are you?” I asked.

“Out front, and guess what?”

“What?”

“I have the car today.”

The car. The Vette.

“Really?”
I was doing a happy dance inside.

“
Mmmhmm. You need to put on your suit and join me. I want to take you somewhere.”

My suit
? Swimsuit. Go somewhere in the Vette. My sleep-crowned brain was fitting his words together.

“You coming or not?” he asked.

And it all clicked in place. “Five. Be there in five. Oh gees.” I heard him laughing again as I threw my phone down on the bed. I scrambled around the room yanking open drawers and tossing their contents in the floor. I hadn’t worn my swimsuit since last summer, so it had gotten buried.

I put shorts and a tank top on over it and dashed from the room, phone in hand, stopping on my way down the hall to grab a towel. I passed my brother in the living room.

“Where you going?” he asked.

“Out.
Swimming. With Jackson.”

He shook his head, and I lost sight of him as I skipped out the front door. But there I skidded to a halt.

Legs. That’s all I’m saying. Jackson Phillips had the best pair of male legs. Tall, long muscular limbs that send my blood, now flowing properly through my body, all swishing to my face. He was leaning on the passenger-side door of the car, his hands behind him, in this pair of swim trunks with a bright blue-green tropical pattern.

“You
gonna stand there or get in?” he asked.

I held up a finger. “I need a moment to soak in those shorts,” I said.

He chuckled, wagging his head back and forth, and just stood there waiting.

“Okay,” I said. “I can go now.” And crossing the lawn, I climbed in, and he fired the engine to life. The car tires crunched over the pavement as we started down the street.

“So, you and your dad are good?” I asked. I mean, they must be good if he could take the car.

He nodded.
“For today.”

That seemed sad to me.
For today. Like maybe tomorrow it’d be different. I never had to think like that about my mom. But I didn’t figure he wanted to talk about that, so I switched the subject.

“So you said your sister is staying with your aunt?
Mother or father’s side?” I was partially being nosy and fishing for information in my quest to find his mom.

He glanced at me then back at the road.
“Father’s.”

“Where at?”

He glanced at me harder. “Corpus Christi.”

“Texas? But I thought you said …”

Well, he hadn’t exactly said he hated Texas, but I knew he did.

He had to turn back to look at the road, and I
wished I could see his eyes. Jackson was always so expressive with his eyes. But all I had right then was a profile.

“Thought I said what?” he asked.

I debated about my answer. This seemed as touchy as the other subject. “Not said. I just thought you didn’t like Texas.”

“I don’t.”

“But your sister stayed there.”

“Is this how you get when you have too much sleep?” he asked.

I wasn’t sure how to take that. Was he upset with me? I decided to go along with it. “I guess.”

“Let’s talk about something else,” he said. “How about, you haven’t asked me where we’
re going.”

The stop
light turned red and he pulled the car to a halt. The noonday sun heated the side of my face, and I shaded it with my palm.

“Okay, so where are we going?” I asked.

He smiled. “Swimming.”

I made a face. He’d told me that.
“Where at?”

The light turned green, and he hit the gas. The car surged forward. For a moment, he couldn’t hear me for the sound of the engine and the wind blowing between us, so he never gave me a direct ans
wer. I became suspicious though when we turned into The Pines.

The Pines was a ritzy neighborhood built about five years ago in what used to be a cow field. I remember my dad driving us past there when I was yo
ung and me counting all the cattle. It had been a pretty spot lined with bald cypress trees, which turned all gold in the winter. But then they plowed it up and built homes, so it wasn’t the same. Kind of a shame.

Jackson drove around the well-plotted streets, down Pine Crest, taking a right on Pine Wood, and pulling up before the very house I figured we were going to. I slanted myself in my seat, taking in the two-story
stuccoed exterior, the cluster of expensive fan palms growing mid-lawn, and the line of brilliant red crotons beneath the windows.

“Owen’
s?” I said, more to myself. Jackson climbed out of the car and came around to get me.

“Sweet ride,” called a voice from the front door.

I lifted my gaze to see Owen standing there.

Jackson opened my door. “C’mon,” he said.

I took his hand and we walked side by side toward Owen. Owen was looking at me mighty peculiar and our hands in particular, and I remembered what Jackson had said about him liking me.

“What are we doing here?” I asked, standing there at Owen’s feet.

“Cookout,” Owen said. “Everybody’s here, minus my parents who I told not to come back for a couple hours.”