The Kissing Deadline (7 page)

“Thirty.” Sierra smacked his mouth with a
quick kiss.

Ryan swallowed and raised his gaze
heavenward. “Wow, these are amazing.”

His words ended just as Mom came into view.
She beamed at him. “You are so sweet, dear.” After Cassie
introduced everyone, she said, “Larry's mom called about his diet
restrictions. And, Brooke, your mom’s going to be a little
late.”

Larry, busy licking icing off a cookie,
rolled his eyes and reached for another.

Mom turned to Brooke. “We hope you'll stay
for dinner dear.”

“Yes, thanks.”

Spencer sauntered over to Ryan. “So which one
of those cars out there is yours?”

“Out, Spence, or you’re the egg.” Cassie
pointed to the door.

* * *

Trallwyn High School

Dragon Scoop: Friday, March 2

Do not park in lot C.

Coach said, “Pass up your warning
letters.”

Cassie watched Ryan forge a signature on his
blank form.

Coach Ameen moved to the wall. “In light of
the mono, we're supposed to show a health video.”

That explained why the room didn’t smell like
chemicals today. They could almost predict movie day when they were
within two feet of the door. No fresh chemical smell meant no
beakers. No beakers meant movie.

Coach Ameen gestured at Kristnaldo. The
lights clicked off. Amber slid her chair closer to Kristnaldo, but
her head turned to Ryan. Cassie kept her gaze straight ahead.

Mouth Diseases and You
appeared on
screen.

Cassie nodded. Sierra laughed, and Brooke
frowned.

* * *

Opening her lunch, Cassie found a turkey
sandwich, carrots, and cookies, the usual. At the bottom lay an
extra white bag. Intriguing. She lifted the bonus bag, eager for
Mom’s surprise. A note on the outside read,
For Ryan
. Oh
well, she’d probably have to ask Mom to bake him a cake if he got
her through Biology. Even Brooke had problems with the last lab,
and Brooke could talk about peapods in her sleep. Leaving her stuff
at her usual spot, Cassie carried the treat over to Ryan's table.
“Mom sent these for you,” Cassie said to the air by his head and
tossed the bag.

“Thanks.” Ryan pulled out a snicker doodle.
Cinnamon momentarily replaced the cafeteria’s fried catfish
smell.

Amber wrinkled her nose. “Ew, check those
calories. Ryan, you shouldn't eat garbage.” She stroked her
necklace and turned to Cassie. “What is this, the way to a man's
heart? Let me tell you the real way…”

Cassie backed up, eager to escape Amber. But
in her hurried retreat, she failed to watch where she was going.
Squish
. Ketchup arced through the air and headed straight
for Amber. Those packets didn’t hold much when you were trying to
cover all your fries, but when the orangey red goop got near
clothes, it expanded. All of the goop landed on Amber’s left ankle,
completely obscuring the decal on her regulation cheer socks.

“OMG.” Amber shoved her tray away and shook
her foot, trying to escape the mess. The goop crawled onto her
shoe.

Oh no.

“Sorry,” Cassie muttered and hurried back to
her table.

Ryan called after her, “Thanks, Cass.”

“Yeah,” Amber said. “Thanks, klutz, I mean,
Cass.”

Ryan tossed Mike a cookie and he caught it
with one hand. “Man, I knew it. I knew it the second I saw her
mom’s face when she heard you praise those German chocolate
cookies.”

* * *

“Teams of two.” The director looked around
the stage then at her watch. Amber hadn’t shown yet. “Cassie, pair
with Ryan.”

Cassie moved in beside him.

“We’ll start today with trust-building
exercises. Sit cross-legged, hold hands and stare silently into
each other’s eyes. Hold the stare for at least 60 seconds.”

Cassie’s heart pounded. Stare into Ryan’s
eyes for 60 seconds? Really?

Sierra shoved against Cassie’s back, and
Cassie dropped down to the hard wooden floor, cross-legged.

Ryan took her hands. Cassie tried to hold his
gaze, but she had to look away. His cologne smelled nice. She hoped
her hands weren’t too cold. His were so warm.

Ryan said, “Madrageen needs to show Yourgath
more affection.”

It was a pretty funny joke given that
Madrageen adored Yourgath in a love without bounds. Cassie giggled,
her shoulders relaxed, and she spoke to Ryan as if he were one of
her friends. “Maybe Madrageen thinks Yourgath needs to work for it
a little.”

Ryan winked. “No way. Madrageen knows
Yourgath’s the best thing that's ever happened to her.”

She smiled at his teasing and found it easy
to look into his eyes. They were a dark green with bits of blue in
them, pretty, like a Christmas tree with blue lights. If she had a
kid with those eyes she’d name him Christmas. Did Ryan want
kids?

“Uhmm, excuse me,” Amber said from behind
Ryan.

Cassie jerked out of Ryan’s grasp and dropped
her gaze to the lines in the polished floor.

The director said, “You're late, Amber.”

“Coach Ameen needed to consult with me on a
paper, and I ran into some kids behaving badly. I had to give them
STOP flags.” Amber held up a pad of the red post-its and poked them
in the direction of some of the students. “Stop, Stop, Stop.”
Several students sporting the flags groaned. “Also we’re working on
some new STOP banners. Megan can’t get her right leg straight on
her herkie and one of my charities--”

“Fine, but as you're late, you can just watch
for today. Please take a seat in the audience.”

“I was late because I was helping people.
It's not my fault. STOP flags are my responsibility, I—”

“Off the stage.”

“Fine, other students are bad, and I get
punished.” Amber turned to Cassie. “Good luck--oops, I mean, break
a leg.” Amber hopped off stage and took a seat, front row center.
She lifted her bare legs over the armrest and adjusted her skirt to
micro-mini length. After that, it didn’t take long before a male
painter joined her, and Ryan hopped down from the stage to go to
her side.

The director signaled to the crew. “We need
to build trust. Form two lines. Stand across from a person with a
like task: painters by painters, lighting guy by the sound mixer,
actors by actors. We’re going to embrace the benefits brought on by
a Trust Fall.”

Sierra rose and stood in front of Mike. The
cast and crew lined up around them with another painter across from
Cassie. The painters had really made progress. The whole backstage
area used to smell like dust and old fabric. Now it smelled like
fresh paint. Very fresh. She checked his hands. The paint looked
dry, but who knew. Not that it mattered when his biceps bulged
under the short sleeves of his t-shirt. She could take a few paint
smears if it meant being partnered with him. At least he looked
strong enough to catch her. What was his name again?

The director walked between the two lines and
switched a few students around until they paired up like she
wanted. The painter moved down one place. Cassie’s former partner
wiggled his paint-coated fingers at his new partner, Megan. Megan
looked down at her white blouse with a pout, then her gaze went to
Cassie. “What happened to the kiss the other day? Don’t you like
Ryan?”

Of course she liked Ryan, she’d just been
startled. “Who wouldn’t like Ryan?” Cassie answered just as Ryan
stepped into the spot across from her. She felt her face heat and
hoped he hadn’t heard. He smiled. She let her eyelids close.
Ugh, he heard.

Making a few more switches, the director
moved Megan into position in front of Larry. Megan looked even less
happy than she had with the painter. She peered out at the
audience, like she’d rather be benched.

Amber frowned up at them and lifted her butt
to the armrest. Her pointed stare focused on Ryan and Cassie.

Cassie kept a blank expression, trying not to
provoke Amber further. No good could come from provoking Amber.

The director stopped at the end of the row.
She pointed to the front line, Cassie’s line. “Actors in line one,
turn your backs to your partners.”

Cassie followed instructions, glad to turn
away from Amber’s gawking.

“Your ability to show your partner your blind
side shows your trust.”

Cassie didn’t know about that, but she was
glad Ryan was her partner if her partner couldn’t be the burly
painter. The director had paired Brooke with Brennan, and Brooke
stood at least a foot taller than him. Cassie wouldn’t be surprised
if Brooke took him down with her, and they ended up entwined
together on the stage. That would be funny. Brooke wisely seemed
concerned and she focused on the director like the trust fall was a
complicated math problem.

The director said, “Line one: cross your arms
over your chest.”

Cassie shook out her arms and folded them
over her chest, right over left. Giggles came from the audience,
loud Amber giggles. Why was Amber laughing?

“Line two: put your hands on your partner’s
shoulders.”

Ryan’s heavy, warm hands land on her
shoulders. His hands were so big, his fingertips brushed her
collarbones. The sensation didn’t feel tingly like when he rubbed
Madrageen’s arms or neck or hair, but solid, reassuring. His grip
was firm. The strength must come from throwing all those spiral
football passes. Coach Ameen had taught a lengthy lesson on air
currents using Ryan’s football season footage. It had been Cassie’s
highest lab score to date. She glanced back at him, but his gaze
was on Amber. Amber slumped half out of her chair, leaning
backwards and kicking her legs up.

“Mike, watch those hands,” the director said.
“She's a dragon, not your girlfriend.”

Sierra growled, and Mike moved his hands back
to her shoulders.

“Line two: back up until your arms are fully
extended. Now drop your arms.”

Ryan’s hands remained unmoving on Cassie's
shoulders. The director tapped them and Ryan’s arms dropped. The
director moved to the row’s end. “Line one: when I say the word,
drop into your partner's arms. Show them you believe in them. Line
two: show them you support them physically, as well as
artistically.”

Amber giggled from the audience, more than
half off the seat now.

“Trust.” The director signaled the fall.

Cassie leaned back.

Cassie hit the stage hard, her head banged
the wooden floor. Pain, dull and quick, rapped through the back of
her skull. She sucked in a short breath, smelling varnish. And all
she could see through the strands of her hair was the hem of Ryan’s
dark blue jeans.

Flash.
Paige snapped a photo with her
yearbook camera. Lights blinked against her eyelids. She cupped her
palms over her closed eyes and drew another shallow breath.

The flash must’ve drawn Ryan’s attention away
from Amber, because she heard him say, “Oh, God. Sorry.” He
squatted beside her.

Amber’s laughter echoed up from the audience.
Louder than everyone else’s laughter, with a meaner edge.

Cassie blinked to clear her vision, lowered
her palms, and saw Megan pulling away from Larry. His tongue had
wound into some of her hair. It was a weird sight from this angle.
It was probably an odd sight from any angle. Most of the cast,
after a quick laugh at Cassie, focused on them.
Flash.
Paige
snapped another photo.

Zebra-print stilettos clicked against the
stage and came into view. Sierra grabbed Cassie’s shoulder and
pulled her into a sitting position. Halfway up, a sharp yank
snapped Cassie’s head back to the stage.

Ryan raised his foot, which freed her hair.
He straightened and stepped back. Her fluffy scrunchie balanced on
the toe of his shoe.

Rubbing the back of her head, Cassie found
neither blood nor bump. Either would have eased her embarrassment,
but her only true injury was shame. Public shame.

Ryan squatted and dropped a hand to her
shoulder. In his other hand, he held the scrunchie. His expression
read apologetic, but his eyes held surprise and he stretched out a
hand to touch her unbound hair.

Cassie reached for the hair tie, but was too
slow. Sierra snagged it from him and threw it into the front row of
the auditorium.

“A little help?” Megan’s voice held a twinge
of desperation.

Brooke went over. Her hands hovered for a
second, then with the same resolute expression she wore during
dissection, she began to unwind the wet strands of Megan’s hair
from Larry’s tongue. Each freed, saliva-soaked strand landed limply
against Megan’s white blouse, and clung to the disheveled fabric.
On the other side of the operation stood Larry. He’d maintained his
kempt appearance. Through all the maneuvering, his
I’d Rather Be
Huntin’
t-shirt stayed tucked in.

The director’s mouth pinched at the edges as
she surveyed her heroes, her disappointment landing last and
hardest on Ryan. “There's a bit of lifting in this play. You may
need to increase your workouts if you can't lift Cassie.”

Ryan turned to the director. “I can lift
her.”

“Are you okay, Cassie?”

Cassie waved off the director’s concern.
Please let this topic die.

The director put a finger on her chin. “Or
maybe Cassie could leap into the nest. We'll play with it.”

Ryan slid his hand from her shoulder to her
elbow and raised it up like a chicken wing atop a bucket. “I can
lift her. Stand up, Cassie.”

Cassie jerked from his grasp and shook her
head. Her temples throbbed at the motion, and she rubbed at them,
wondering if Sierra had any Tylenol in her bag, or if she’d have to
get back in line at the nurse’s office.

“We can practice Trust Fall again.”

Cassie looked straight into his dark green,
holiday eyes, and shook her head. “No.” She was pretty sure he’d
just cured her secret crush. It was hard to crush on someone who’s
had their big foot on your hair and couldn’t spare two minutes of
their time to catch you during a Trust Fall.