Kiss & Sell (22 page)

“Uh huh,” she answered evenly, crossing her arms and examining my study buddy. “It’s nice to meet you, Cade. So, what have you guys come up with so far?”

I wasn’t sure if she was asking because she was genuinely interested or if she was just grilling us.

“Our theme’s ‘Opposites attract’…”

“Arielle actually came up with it, Mrs. Sawyer,” Cade added.

“Very clever, Arielle,” my mom said.

“Anyway, so we’re decorating with black and white balloons, and we thought we’d serve hot and cold food…that sort of thing,” I finished, cheerily.

“Sounds like it’s going to be a good time,” she said. “Do they need any chaperones?”

Cade had somehow made his way toward the door and was standing slightly behind my mom now. So when he smirked at this, I was the only one to see him. I made a mental note to scold him later.

“You know, I think they have enough, but I’ll let you know,” I said in my best devoted daughter voice.

Cade lifted his bag over his head, the strap hitting just in between his well-toned pecs. He gave me a smooth smile as he stood by the door and I felt my knees almost buckle under his stare. He was the epitome of cool. Bad on the outside and sweet on the inside. Deliciously gorgeous.

Sigh.

“I should get going,” Cade said, interrupting my crush session.

I looked around at all the leftovers spread across my floor, and bent down to start gathering the takeout containers.

“Here, let me get some of this for you,” I said.

“They’re yours. Enjoy,” he said. “Who knows when you’ll have something that good again.”

I could tell he was joking, but it was also just a little bit suggestive. Borderline flirty, even.

“Well, in that case, I think I could have seconds,” I countered. Realizing my mom was still in the room and staring at us curiously, I cleared my throat and broke our gaze. “okay. So, see you at school on Monday then? We’ll get the decorations after the last bell?”

Cade nodded and said a polite goodbye, insisting he could let himself out. Once he was gone, my mom walked over to my bed and sat down next to me. When she still hadn’t said anything by the time we heard the front door open and close, I started to get fidgety.

“What?” I asked her.

She just smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “Nothing.” But I could tell it was
something
, because she had “Something face.”

“Go ahead. Say whatever you’re thinking,” I demanded, lying back against my pillows and throwing my arms up and behind my head.

“He’s a good-looking kid, that’s all,” she finally said, her smile growing bigger. “So, you’re working on the dance together?”

“Yep.”

“Does he have a date, yet?”

“Why? you wanna go with him?” I asked, jokingly. When she gave me the parental warning look, I lowered my level of sarcasm and answered her. “No,
Cade
doesn’t have a date for the dance yet. But he’s planning on asking someone.”

My mom was starting to look like she did after she had a break-through with one of her couples. “You?”

I snorted. “Hardly. We’re just on dance committee together. Besides, I already have a date.”

“What?” now she was officially surprised. “Since when?”

“Gee, Mom. Don’t seem so shocked,” I said slightly hurt by her reaction. “I may not have kissed anyone yet, but it doesn’t mean I’m an l7.”

“An l7?”

I rolled my eyes. As hip as my mom thought she was, she was always a step behind
cool
.

“L,” I said, making the letter with the thumb and pointer finger of my right hand. “Seven,” I continued, turning my left palm toward me and showing the number to her. I put the two together, fingertips touching. “It’s a square?”

the light turned on in my mom’s head and she beamed as if she’d just learned the location of the Holy Grail.

“That’s so
crafty
,” she said. “l7. Huh. I’ve got to remember that.”

“Anyway,” I said, as she continued to make squares with her fingers, “I’m going to the dance with Ryder.”

She stopped what she was doing and blinked at me. “The boy from the TV show? What’s it called?
Night Ryder
?”

“
Night Light
,” I corrected. “
Night Ryder
is a show from your day.”

“Ah, yes. That Hasseldorf guy who drove the talking car,” she said, pulling the name out of her limited celebrity pop culture file. I was always shocked at how little she knew about Hollywood, considering that twenty percent of her clientele were in the entertainment industry. “What’s Ryder’s show about?”

“It’s Hasselhoff,” I said. “And
Night Light
is about teen vampires.”

“So, you asked him? I didn’t know you two were friends,” she said, folding her arms across her chest curiously.

“Well, he sort of asked me and I said yes. And I guess we’re friends. We swapped numbers that day on the show and we’ve talked a couple of times on the phone.”

I started moving around my room, pulling out all the stuff I’d hidden in the closet before Cade had shown up. I hoped that my mom would see that I was busy and cut our mother/daughter bonding sesh short. not that I didn’t like talking to my mom. For the most part, she was really fun to be around. Definitely cool for an adult. I mean, I don’t know any other moms who’d let their daughters sell a kiss on eBay.

It was just that I knew if we kept chatting, she’d ask me if I liked Ryder. And after that, she’d ask if Ryder was into me. And the thing about it was…I didn’t know the answer.

I pulled my homework out of my messenger bag and lay it out on the bedspread in front of me. I quickly counted up how many hours of homework I had to do before I could pass out, and the number filled me with stress. I looked up at my mom, who’d grown quiet herself, and saw that she was lost in thought.

“Hey, Mom, you mind if we talk about this later? I’ve got like, four and a half hours of work here, and then I still have to check on this eBay thing.”

Mom’s face softened and she smiled at me understandably. “Of course, sweetie. I
do
want to hear all about this, though,” she said as she walked toward
the door. “You know, I hope you feel like you can come to me to talk about anything. That includes boys and dating. I was a young bachelorette myself at one point, you know.”

“I know,” I said, forcing my own smile. “Now, you’re just a
mature
bachelorette.”

“Ugh. The only thing worse than being
mature
is being
old
,” Mom exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air, defeated.

“Well, you’re certainly not
old
,” I said trying to make her feel better.

“Thanks hon. But I’m old enough to know that you and Cade weren’t
just
working on a project.”

“But we
were
—”

“It’s okay. You don’t want to talk to your mom about this stuff and I get it. Just as long as you know I’m here for you if you decide to share.”

I knew there was no point in trying to fight her on the subject, so I conceded. “I know, Mom. Thanks.”

I watched her walk out of my room and listened as she went back downstairs. A few minutes later, she was puttering around our kitchen. Reluctantly, I turned my attention to my homework. But before I could get completely lost in american History, I found myself drifting back to my conversation with Cade.

Had Mom been right? Was there something more going on there?

I SPOTTED MCCARTNEY
almost immediately as we pulled up to the south Kennedy Mall. It was 7:45 on a saturday morning and I was not at all happy about the fact that I was up so early. I’d always been of the opinion that weekends were meant to be spent sleeping in, then lounging around in your pajamas until at least noon, while you watched your favorite cartoons (which are
not
just for little kids anymore; have you heard some of the jokes on them lately?) and stuffed your belly with sugary treats like donuts, cinnamon rolls or chocolate chip pancakes.

Yet, here I was, pulling up to an empty mall several hours before I should’ve been waking up. And did I mention this was all totally against my will?

“
There’s
McCartney,” my mom said a minute after I’d already found her. “So, you guys are shopping for dresses?”

“That’s the plan,” I grumbled, rubbing at my eyes.

Because of my guilt over my lack of communication with my friends lately, I’d agreed to go dress shopping with McCartney. But when I’d said yes, I hadn’t realized she’d want to go before the rooster even got out of bed for the day.

“Okay, well, have fun, hon. Give me a call when you’re ready for me to pick you up. I’m just going to be reading for a session I’m having later this week.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

Once the car rolled to a stop, I pushed open the door and hopped out. McCartney better realize what I was sacrificing for a little girl-on-girl bonding time. I pulled my hoodie up over my head and shoved my hands deep into the soft, fuzzy pockets. Dragging my feet in the direction of the bench McCartney was sitting on, I silently cursed her for choosing such an ungodly hour to get her shop on.

“Great, you’re here!” she said, jumping up and walking to meet me halfway. “I was hoping we could strategize before the doors open.”

“Mmmggrrrrrrr,” I said, doing my best impression of a zombie.

“Oh, here,” McCartney said, producing an energy drink from her purse. “I’ve got a few more stashed in here if that doesn’t do the trick. You know I wouldn’t make you come here this early and
not
bring you the cure to sleepiness.”

I popped open the top and gulped it down, only stopping when the can was empty. McCartney took the drink out of my hands and replaced it with a new one. I could feel the caffeine start to work almost immediately and took my time sipping the second. When I began to feel my annoyance disappear along with my sluggishness, I pulled my hood off and surveyed the few people who’d gathered around us.

“Thanks. I needed that.”

“No problemo,” she answered, before moving on. “Now back to strategizing. I’m thinking we should start at Forever 21 and then make our way back through the mall. We’ll probably need to run to the shop though, because you know that everyone else will be heading there, too. And I want first dibs on all the best dresses. There’s no way I’m settling for someone else’s castoffs.”

“Do you seriously think anyone else from school will get up this early? McCartney, they’re
teenagers
. They’re probably just going to bed,” I said, switching my drink from one hand to the other like a hot potato.

“I love you, Arielle, but have you gone mental?
Everyone
is going to be here today. It’s the last weekend before Homecoming and that means it’s our last chance to get the perfect dress.”

I looked at her. I’d never seen McCartney so worked up over a single event before. In fact, she’d always been kind of anti-school activities. In middle school, I’d even had to trick her into going to our eighth grade graduation ceremony. And now, she was suddenly acting like Mrs. Homecoming Queen.

“You’re not fooling me, McCartney Fay Janning. Why are you so worked up about this dance?” I asked. “Come on. Spill.”

“What? it’s nothing. I just figured that if we were going, we should do it right.”

I put my hand on my hip and gave my best “cut the crap” look.

“Okay! Quit looking at me like that. Sheesh, didn’t your mom ever warn you that your face could freeze that way?” she said. “So, this only just happened like, yesterday, but I sort of…got a date for the dance.”

“And you couldn’t have led with that info?” I said, suddenly really excited for my friend. This was practically the news of the century. “Gimme the deets! Who is it? Did he ask you or did you ask him? I bet it’s tommy, isn’t it? Oooh, or what about that italian exchange student? I’ve seen him checking you out during english class. Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“Um, because you won’t stop asking me questions,” she answered sarcastically. I made a zipping motion across my lips and shut my mouth. When she saw I was serious, she continued. “It’s Zack Pinole. He asked me yesterday and it was so cute. He left me a flower in my locker with a note attached asking me to be his date. I made him sweat for a few periods, but of course I finally told him yes. He’s cute, right?”

I recalled the guy McCartney was talking about and had to agree with her. The boy
was
cute. Zack was a sophomore
and
a soccer player—which already made him way cooler than anyone she could’ve gone with from our class. He was tall, and lithe, and walked around as if on air. He was graceful. For a guy at least. His hair was light brown and average length. He was pretty clean cut as far as I knew, a surprising choice for McCartney, considering she usually went after guys who were…complicated.

“So cute! And he scores extra sizzle points for the soccer bod,” I said, nodding. “Aw, McCartney, I’m so happy for you!”

And I really was. now that we both had dates, I knew that I wouldn’t have to worry about McCartney having a good time. Or giving me a guilt trip over spending the dance with a TV star.