Rules Of Attraction (30 page)

“Right. Germs. Lots of ’em.” I don’t tell him that some girls’ germs

are worth getting.

“I’m never gonna do it,” he declares.

“Nobody’s ever gonna want to do it with you, cachorro, if you don’t

wipe your mouth after you eat chocolate. You’re disgustin’.”

As Kiara reaches for a napkin and wipes Brandon’s face, he looks up

at her curiously. “You never answered my question. Are you and Carlos

going to French-kiss?”

FORTY-EIGHT :
Kiara

“Brandon, stop asking that or I’m telling Mom you just snuck

chocolate without her permission.” I lean over and kiss his now-clean

cheek. “But I still love you.”

“Meanie,” Brandon says, but I know he isn’t upset, because he

bounces out of the kitchen with a spring in his step.

We’re alone at last. Carlos comes up from behind me and gently

swipes my hair to the side, exposing my neck. “Eres hermosa,” he

whispers into my ear. Just the sound of the Spanish words makes my

insides feel like Jell-O.

I twirl around and face him. “Thanks. I needed to hear that.”

“I should go take a shower and get dressed, but I don’t want to

stop lookin’ at you.”

I push him away from me, even though I’m actually giddy because

he can’t stop staring. “Go. I’m not missing my first high school dance.”

Forty-five minutes later, I’m still standing in heels afraid to sit

down and wrinkle my dress. My mom insisted on painting my fingernails

pink, so I resist picking at them even though I can’t help fidgeting.

We’re in the backyard, where my mom and dad are snapping picture

after picture of me standing next to the house, next to a potted plant,

next to my car, with Brandon, and the fence and . . .

Carlos opens the sliding glass door and steps onto the patio. A black

suit and white buttondown shirt have replaced his ever-present T-shirt

and ripped jeans. Just looking at him all dressed up for me makes my

heart beat faster and my tongue feel thick and heavy. Especially when

I see him holding a corsage in his hand.

“Oh, you look so handsome. You’re sweet to take Kiara to

Homecoming,” my mom says. “She’s always wanted to go.”

“It’s not a problem,” Carlos says.

I don’t interrupt and tell my mom that he asked me because we

shook on it. I’m pretty sure if we hadn’t made a deal we wouldn’t be

standing here in the nicest clothes we own.

“Here,” Carlos says, holding out the corsage full of purple-and-

white flowers with yellow centers.

“Put it on her, Carlos,” my mom says excitedly as she holds up her

camera.

My dad makes my mom put the camera down. “Colleen, let’s go

inside. I think we should give them a few minutes alone.”

When my parents give us privacy, Carlos slips the corsage on my

wrist. “I know it doesn’t match your dress,” he says shyly. “And it’s not

roses like I’m sure you were expectin’. They’re Mexican asters. Every

time you look at it tonight, I wanted it to remind you of me.”

“They’re p-p-perfect,” I say, bringing the purple and white flowers

to my nose so I can breathe in their sweet scent.

On the patio table is the boutonniere I bought him. It’s a simple

white rose with green leaves. I pick it up and hold it out to him. “I’m

supposed to p-p-pin it to your lapel.”

He moves closer. My hands are shaking as I take the big pin and try

to put it on right. “Here, I’ll just do it,” he says as he watches me

struggle to push the pin through the green florist tape on the bottom

of the boutonniere.

Our fingers touch and I can hardly breathe. After we suffer

through a few pictures with my parents, clouds start forming overhead.

“It’s supposed to rain tonight,” my mom says, then orders me to bring

my taupe raincoat that doesn’t match my dress but repels water. Carlos

seems excited to drive me in Alex’s car. He knew I’d think it was cool

that we have matching cars.

We drive up to the school parking lot ten minutes later, which is

packed. But before we get to the doors, out of nowhere Nick Glass and

two other big guys block our path. It’s obvious they’re not here to

dance . . . they’re here to cause trouble.

I grab on to Carlos’s arm, scared that he’ll get into another fight.

“It’s okay,” he assures me softly. “Trust me, chica.”

“This is my territory,” Nick says, stepping closer. “I’m not sharin’

it.”

“I don’t want it,” Carlos tells him.

“What’s the problem here?” Ram says, walking up to us with a girl

who I don’t recognize. Ram and Carlos have become friends in school,

and it’s nice to know someone is willing to stick his neck out for Carlos

even though it’s Homecoming.

“We’re cool, right, Nick?” Carlos asks.

Nick looks from Carlos to Ram and back. Nick’s friends aren’t from

Flatiron High. They look like guys who aren’t afraid to fight, but in the

end Nick steps back and lets us through. Carlos grabs my hand and

pushes past them without fear.

“If you need me, Carlos, I’m here,” Ram tells him as we reach the

front door to the school.

“Same to you, man,” Carlos responds, then squeezes my hand. “If

you want to go somewhere else, Kiara, I’m totally game.”

I shake my head. “A deal’s a deal. I want the photographer to take

a picture, so I can pin it to my corkboard over my desk as a reminder

of my first school dance. Just promise me, no fights.”

“Okay, chica. But after the picture, if you want to go somewhere

else, just let me know.”

“Where would we go?” I ask him.

He looks around at the streamers and the posters and the students

yelling and dancing to the loud music. He pulls me closer. “Somewhere

quiet, where we can be alone. I don’t really feel like sharin’ you

tonight.”

The thing is, I don’t feel like sharing him, either.

The photographer has us pose for pictures before we enter the

gymnasium. Actually, he poses us, treating us like mannequins in a

department store.

“Want a drink?” Carlos asks, his arm around my waist pulling me

close so I can hear him over the loud, pounding music.

I shake my head, taking in the scene. Most of the girls are wearing

really short dresses with frilly skirts that fly up when they twirl and

dance. I look out of place in my long, black, formfitting vintage dress.

“Food?” he asks. “There’s pizza.”

“Not yet.” I watch the other students dancing. Most of them are

dancing in groups, jumping up and down to the loud music. Madison isn’t

here. Lacey isn’t, either. Knowing that I won’t be the subject of their

rude remarks tonight makes me let down my guard.

He grabs my hand and leads me to the far corner of the gymnasium.

“Let’s dance.”

“You’re not one hundred percent yet. Let’s wait until there’s a slow

dance. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Not listening to me, Carlos starts dancing. He doesn’t act like he’s

in pain. In fact, he acts like he’s been street dancing his entire life.

The blaring music has a fast beat. Most guys I know don’t have rhythm,

but Carlos does. He’s amazing. I want to step back and just watch him

move his body to the beat.

“Show me what you got,” he says at one point. He’s got a

mischievous gleam in his eye as he cocks an eyebrow. “I dare you,

chica.”

FORTY-NINE :
Carlos

Kiara can dance like a pro. Man, one little dare and the girl moves to

the music as if she owns it. I dance with her, our movements suddenly

coming together. We’re finding our own rhythm together, dancing to

each song without stopping. Kiara takes me away from thoughts of

Devlin and the Brittany-Alex drama that’s going on.

Right in the middle of a fast song, the DJ mixes it up. A painfully

slow song about love and loss echoes through the gymnasium. Kiara

looks at me, unsure of how we’re gonna do this. I take her hands and

wrap them around my neck. Damn, she smells great . . . like fresh

raspberries you can inhale forever. When I pull her so her body is

pressed up against mine, all I want to do is steal her away and never

give her back. I’m trying to pretend Devlin doesn’t exist and that I’m

not leaving her for good at the end of the month. I want to savor

today, ’cause my future is one big mess right now.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks me.

“Leavin’ here,” I say, telling her the truth. She doesn’t know I’m

actually talking about leaving Colorado, but that’s okay. If she knew

what my plans were, she’d probably call Alex and her parents and

arrange an intervention. Hell, she’d probably invite Tuck, too, while she

was at it.

With her arms still wrapped around my neck, she looks up at me. I

lean down and kiss her gently on her soft, shiny lips, not caring that the

teachers are watching. The entire student body has been warned about

the possibility of being kicked out of the dance for PDA.

“We c-c-can’t kiss,” Kiara says, leaning away.

“Then let’s go somewhere where we can.” My hand slides down her

back and rests on the curve right above her ass.

“Hey, Carlos!” Ram yells as he and his date walk up to us after we’ve

danced and eaten and are ready to bounce. “We’re gonna head out and

hang at my parents’ lake house. Want to come?”

I look over at my date. She nods.

“You sure?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

It’s raining, so we hurry to the car. I follow Ram and a few other

cars out of the parking lot. A half hour later we all turn off the main

road and head up a long driveway to a small house on a private lake.

“You sure you’re okay with us bein’ here?” I ask her. She hasn’t said

much since we left the dance.

“Yeah. I d-d-don’t want the night to be over.”

Me either. After tonight, reality will start to set in. We follow

three other couples inside the house, running because now it’s pouring.

It’s not a big house, but it’s got huge windows with lake views. I’m sure

if it wasn’t dark outside we’d actually be able to see the lake. Now all

we see is the rain pelting the windows.

Ram has the refrigerator stocked with cans of beer. “It’s all ours,”

Ram says as he tosses one to each person. “And there’s more in the

garage, if we want it.”

Kiara is holding the can of beer Ram tossed her. It’s still unopened.

“Are you going to drink?” she asks me.

“Maybe.”

She holds out her hand. “Then give me the keys. I don’t want you

driving if you’re drinking,” she says softly so the other couples can’t

hear.

“By the way,” Ram yells out, “everyone who drinks here needs to

crash here. House rules.”

I look around. It seems as if the other couples are ready to shack

up. “Wait here,” I tell Kiara, then run outside to the car and pull out

the cell that I stashed on the dash. Five minutes later, I come back in

the house. Despite her self-proclaimed shyness, Kiara is doing just

fine. Ram has her talking about the benefits of diesel fuel and I’m

tempted to say, “That’s my girl.” But she’s not really my girl. At least,

she won’t be soon. Tonight she is, though. I pull Kiara aside. “We’re

crashin’ here,” I tell her. “I just called your parents. They said it was

okay.”

“How did you get them to agree to us sleeping out?”

“I told them we’d been drinkin’. Ends up they’d rather have us crash

here than drive drunk.”

“But I wasn’t planning on drinking at all.”

I flash her a mischievous grin. “What they don’t know won’t kill

them, chica.”

While the rest of the party finds their own private places to crash

for the night, I grab a bunch of blankets Ram pulled out of the closet

and lead Kiara outside.

“Where are we going?” she asks.

“I saw a dock by the lake. I know it’s cold out, and rainin’ . . . but it’s

covered and private.” I take off my suit jacket and give it to her.

“Here.”

She slides her arms through the holes and holds it closed. I like

her wearing my jacket, as if somehow she’s mine and nobody else’s.

“Wait!” Kiara says, grabbing me by the wrist. “Give me your keys.”

Oh, hell. This is it. This is where she tells me that she’s not mine—

and that she’s still in love with Michael and wants to leave. Or that she

just wanted me to take her to Homecoming and I got the wrong idea.

While I had only one beer and am still painfully sober, I don’t want to

take her back home. I want this night to last as long as possible.

“I need my purse,” she explains. “I left it in the car.”

Oh. Her purse. I stand in the rain, looking dumbfounded at the girl

who makes me want to hold on to her and never let go, as if she’s my

security blanket. My emotions are scaring the hell out of me. On the

way to the dock we stop off at the car. She pulls out her purse and

clutches it while we walk through the grass.

“My heels are sinking,” she tells me.

I hand her the blankets and pick her up.

“Don’t drop me,” she says, trying to juggle the blankets on her lap

while holding on to my neck for dear life.

“Trust me.” That’s the second time tonight I told her to trust me.

Truth is that she shouldn’t, because after tonight all bets are off. But

I don’t want to think about tomorrow. Tonight needs to last me a