Instead, I tear a piece of paper from his notebook and write on it: F Hall janitor’s closet. And then I ask Ms. Glendon for a pass to the library to check out some reference materials.
The closet smells like lemons, and I breathe it in. It’s dark. I consider turning on the light, but I don’t. I need it dark to calm my nerves.
What am I doing? Meeting a boy—any boy, much less Darius Groves—in the janitor’s closet is a highly un-Alicea-Springer-like move.
That pinkie-nail kiss was so hot, though.
I bite my lip, hard, and give myself a pep talk: Calm down, Alicea. You’ll do fine. Remember? Kissing a boy is as normal and natural and simple as breathing.
At last the door creaks open, and Darius stands in front of me, silhouetted by the hallway light. I can’t see his expression, but I can feel his smile.
I pull the door closed and grab his hand. He takes a small step toward me. The smell of lemons is replaced with his woodsy scent as his lips touch mine.
His lips are soft, and though his kiss is light and tentative, his free hand wraps around my lower back and draws me close. I press myself into him, and just like that, our kiss goes from sweet to smoky.
He backs me into the closet wall. A mop handle lodges itself into my shoulder blade, but I barely feel it. My senses are overwhelmed with his mouth, his hands, and the sensation of my fingers tangled in his soft curls. Curls are definitely my new favorite thing. I gasp as his lips move downward to kiss my chin and throat to a space right under my left ear that I’d never realized was so sensitive.
“I’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” he murmurs.
“Mmhmm.” It’s all I can manage. I instruct my brain not to wonder what constitutes a “long time.” Overthinking does not pair well with class-cutting dark-closet kissing.
And then, as his lips make their way back up to mine, I become incapable of even a single thought. I am only skin, and tingling nerves, and mouth, and deep breaths. My head and my body feel a-jumble—dazed and disheveled and scattered—everything I’m not—but it feels like the only thing I’ve ever really wanted.
Until he pulls away. “I should go.”
My eyes widen, and I shake my head. “What? No.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” He holds up a bathroom pass. “It was the best I could do.”
“A bathroom pass? Really?” My tone is light, teasing, though my disappointment is real.
He kisses the tip of my nose in an apology. “You’d already asked for the library pass. I didn’t want to raise suspicions.”
I pull him back for one more kiss and then another before he opens the closet door and disappears with a wink and a smile.
I crouch down against the wall, blinking and shaking my head to clear the fog. I spend the rest of the class period sitting in the dark closet, breathing in the lemon scent and steadying my heart rate.
Wow. That was wild and exciting and insane. And it was nothing at all like breathing.
Thanksgiving is quiet, as is typical at the Springer household. All of our relatives live on the West Coast and no one in my family likes turkey, so my parents, Andrew, and me keep it low key with a big chicken, some stuffing, and a few sides.
For our family, it’s the day after Thanksgiving that feels more like a holiday. Black Friday is always the biggest day of the year for the gallery, so Dad offers free wine, hot chocolate, and cookies in the lobby; Mom holds an open house in the studio to give people a chance to dabble and apply for her art classes; and Andrew helps out behind the counter in the gift shop.
My job, though, is best of all. I set up a craft table next to the Christmas tree in the lobby and help kids cut out snowflakes to hang on the tree while their parents check out the art exhibits and shop. I may not be an artist, but snowflakes are my jam. They come out perfectly symmetrical every time. And it’s so fun to watch the kids’ expressions as they unfold their flakes.
“Grab those scissors.” I point to one of a half-dozen pairs of blunt-end scissors sitting on the table, and a boy named Bronwyn who appears to be about seven years old picks them up. I hand him his folded sheet of paper. “Here you go. You can do triangles or squares or circles or even little wavy lines. Whatever you want.”
Bronwyn creases his forehead in concentration as he targets the upper left corner.
“Not too big. You don’t want it to fall apart.”
He snips a bit here and a bit there and then holds it out to me. “Is that good?”
“I think so. You ready to open it up?”
He nods, and together we unfold his sheet to discover a pinwheel-style flake.
His eyes dance. “Cool.”
“Good job. Do you want to add sparkles?”
He shakes his head and wrinkles his nose.
“Okay, no sparkles. Do you want to keep it, or should we hang it on our tree?”
“Hang it!”
“Great.” I circle the tree. “Let’s find a good place for it.”
“There’s one.” A voice behind me pipes up, and I turn to find Maggs pointing at a bare spot near the top of the tree.
“Maggs! You came!”
“You promised hot chocolate. Of course I came.”
I run over and give her a hug. I had texted her and Brie, asking them to stop by. Maggs had said she’d try, but with Maggs, you can never be sure.
“Any word from … ?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. She hasn’t said a word to me since dance class last week.”
“She’ll come around. If nothing else, her curiosity about what’s going on with you and Darius will get the best of her.” She tilts her head and gives me a side-eye. “Speaking of. What is going on with you and Darius?”
I nod toward my father, who is standing and watching us not five yards away. “Later. Right now, I need you to help this young man hang his snowflake while I run to the bathroom. And then both of you should definitely get some hot chocolate. Bronwyn, this is Maggs. Maggs, Bronwyn.” I hand her the flake and take off down the hallway.
As soon as I get to the restroom, I pull out my phone and text Aiden.
Alicea: She’s here. U coming?
Aiden: Yep. On my way.
I smile. This has to work. The two of them can bond over their love of art. We even have some new daisy prints in the gift shop.
I start to put away my phone, but another text pops up. It’s from Darius.
Darius: OK if I bring Jaycee by to make some flakes?
My heart does a small flip. I so want to see him again. And kiss him. Especially kiss him. On the other hand, our relationship—or whatever it is—isn’t exactly public yet. I’m not sure I want people to see us together. Besides, my mom and dad are both here, and they’re going to be totally up in my business, and Andrew … ugh, don’t even get me started. The whole thing could get super awkward.
I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head. Less thinking, Alicea. More Darius. My hands shaking, I text him back, telling him to stop by. With a smiley-face emoji for good measure.
I return to the lobby to find Maggs and Bronwyn drinking hot chocolate and talking to my dad, and a whole new crop of kids waiting at my table to make snowflakes. As I help them pick out their paper colors, I keep an eye on the front door.
When Aiden walks in, Maggs glances up from her hot chocolate, and her eyes widen a bit. “Hey. What are you doing here?” she asks.
He shrugs. “Christmas shopping for my mom.”
“Aw. That’s sweet.”
I smile and hand a pair of scissors to one of the older kids. “I need you to supervise for a minute. I’ll be right back.”
I rush over and offer Aiden a drink. “We have some great new pieces hanging in the main gallery and a bunch of prints for sale in the store,” I tell him. I nod to Maggs. “Why don’t you go with him? Maybe you’ll find something you like.”
Maggs shoots me a confused look, but she follows Aiden down the hallway toward the shop.
I take a deep breath as I head
back to the snowflake station. With a little luck, maybe Maggs will fall madly in love with Aiden. Or at the very least, maybe the two of them will hang out back there long enough for me to avoid awkward questions about Darius that even I don’t know the answer to yet.
Glitter, glitter everywhere. Gold, silver, pink, and blue. I’ve been here for less than two hours, and already I have it in my hair and all over my clothes. I’m helping a little girl clean it out from behind one of her ears when I hear his voice.
“Well, well. Isn’t that the most beautiful angel you’ve ever seen?”
I look up to find Darius and Jaycee approaching my table. He’s pointing to the angel on top of the tree, but his eyes are trained on me. My cheeks grow warm. “Hello.”
“Hey.”
“We’re having a bit of a glitter emergency.”
“So I see.”
Jaycee grabs a wipe and practically pushes me out of the way as she crouches down and takes over on ear-cleaning duty.
“She’s great with kids,” Darius says. “She can’t wait to start babysitting.”
I smile at him. “I’m glad you came.” I am. It’s only been two days, but I realize I’ve missed him. His smile, his voice, his eyes, his hair. I desperately want to reach up and touch those curls. My mind flashes to the art supply closet by my mom’s studio. So tempting, but I shake away the thought. “Want to make a snowflake?”
Darius grins. “Of course. That’s what we’re here for.” He grabs the pile of papers and begins sorting through to pick out a color.
I’m curious to see what kind of flake he’ll make.
“Want to know my favorite thing about snowflakes?” I ask.
“What’s that?”
“They’re perfect every time.”
He laughs. “Right. Of course.” His expression turns mischievous. “Unless … ” He pulls out an ice-blue sheet, holds it up, and slowly and very deliberately creates an uneven fold. “You do this.”
“What! You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, I would.” He lowers his voice. “I am.”
I reach out to grab the sheet from him, but he pulls it away.
“What kind of monster are you?”
“I’m your worst nightmare.”
I purse my lips and glare. “Fine. Go ahead and make your imperfect flake. But don’t expect me to hang it on the tree with all the perfect ones.”
“We’ll see about that.” He picks up a pair of scissors and chops away, cutting bits and pieces off the sides, the corners, and the offending sticking-out part. He pays no attention to what he’s doing. Instead, he stares at me, his grin mocking me with each snip, snip, snip. Finally, with a great flourish, he opens it up.
It is perhaps the most hideous snowflake I’ve ever seen. “Um. Wow.”
Jaycee stands up and smirks at her brother. “What the—? That is not how it’s done.”
Darius hugs the monstrosity to his chest. “You people have no appreciation for art.”
“It’s weird and crooked,” she says.
“And? What’s wrong with weird and crooked?” He holds the flake out to me. “Go ahead. Hang it. I dare you.”
“You dare me? Really? Isn’t that just a pitiful attempt to get me to hang something you know doesn’t deserve to be hung?”
Darius laughs. “Maybe.” He holds the snowflake up to my face. “I double dare you.”
“Oh, okay. Now you’ve got me.” I snatch it from him and eye the tree. “I know exactly where this belongs.” I walk around to the far side, by the wall, where the plug for the lights is buried.
“Oh no you don’t. You’re not hiding my masterpiece back there.” Darius chases after me. He grabs for the flake, but I hold it away. He reaches around me, his arm circling my waist.
I know Jaycee is a few feet from us and my father is across the room, but I can’t help myself. We’re hidden by the tree, and so I kiss him—a quick, teasing peck. Only the brief sensation of his lips on mine makes me want more, so I lean into him. “What are you willing to do for this flake?” I murmur.
His eyebrows shoot up, and his gaze sweeps over me. “Do you really want to know?”
“I do.”
“You’re sure?”
“I am.”
“And you want me to do it, right here, right now?”
My heart skips a beat. “I dare you.”
He shrugs. “Okay. You asked for it.” At which point he tilts his head back and belts out an ear-splitting falsetto version of “Let It Go.” By the time he pauses and whispers the line about how, “The cold never bothered me anyway,” I am a puddle of giggles.
“You win,” I say when I finally catch my breath. “Here.” I hand him the flake. “Hang it wherever you want.”
He grins, takes it from me, and leads me back around to the front of the tree … where apparently his singing has attracted a curious audience. About a dozen people are gathered in the lobby staring at us. Including Maggs and Aiden. And Brie.
“Um. Hello, everyone.”
Super awkward. Yep. Called it.
I rush over to my friends, head up and shoulders back, trying my best to look as though I didn’t just kiss Darius Groves behind the Christmas tree in the lobby of my parents’ art gallery.
“Thanks for coming, Brie. I’m really glad you’re here.”
“Sure.” Brie regards me with a wary expression and a pasted-on smile. “I wasn’t expecting a concert,” she says, turning toward Darius. “Has anyone ever told you that you have an amazing voice?”
He shakes his head.
“Yeah, well. There’s a reason for that.”
Darius laughs, as do the rest of us, and for one brief moment, the awkwardness disappears.
Until Brie turns to Maggs and Aiden. “So, you two are … ?”
Maggs blinks. “Um. No. I mean, we’re not … anything. I’m just … I’m here for the hot chocolate.”
“Same here.” Aiden gives a jittery laugh. “I mean, not the part about the hot chocolate. I’m here for a present for my mom.”
I eye Maggs. She seems nervous, in a protesteth-too-much kind of way. Maybe this thing with Aiden is working. Meanwhile, Aiden keeps glancing back and forth between Darius and me, as though he’s trying to piece things together.
Darius has remained standing over by the tree, snowflake in hand, clearly unsure whether he should join us. I want to call him over, but I don’t. Somehow it feels as though doing so would make the whole thing real. It would be like flipping a switch. I’m not sure I’m ready for Darius to go from being a kiss-in-a-closet to being my boyfriend. Or at least, I’m not sure I’m ready to reveal that to Aiden—and by extension the entire Grand View High School student body.
Instead, I turn to Brie and pull her toward the back of the lobby. “We need to talk. I’m really sorr—”
“It’s okay.” Brie stops me. “You don’t need to apologize. It’s just that you and Maggs are … I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like I’m on the outside. I know it’s probably because I spend so much time with Blake, and sometimes I open my mouth when I shouldn’t, so I get it. It’s cool. We’re cool.”
“No.” I grab both her arms. “That’s not cool. I don’t want you feeling like you’re on the outside.”
“But I am.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I am.”
“Brie, no, you’re—”
“Then why would you keep a secret from me?”
I open my mouth, but I have no reply. She’s got me there.
“Secrets are for people who are on the inside. Where I am not.”
I let her go, and my shoulders sag. She has a point.
Then I remember. “You and I have a secret.”
“What secret?”
“You know. About … ” I nod toward Maggs and Aiden.
“That’s not the same. That’s matchmaking stuff.”
“I know, but … ” I sigh. “Brie, I swear, I was going to tell you about the whole Darius thing. I just … I n
eeded to work it out more myself.”
“And so? Have you?”
“Have I what?”
“Worked it out?”
I glance over at Darius, who has turned his attention to Jaycee and is helping her pick out glitter for her star. “Yes. No.” I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
Brie gives a huge sigh. “Honestly, Alicea. You need to make up your—”
“Okay. See? This is what I’m talking about.” I wave my hand in front of her face. “This is what you do.”
Brie stands with her mouth open. I can tell she’s dying to spit out her thoughts on my dating ineptitude, but to her credit, she checks herself. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Not my place.”
“Thank you.”
“But I do want to say … ”
I shoot her a warning glare.
She leans toward me and whispers, “He really likes you. I can tell. And that’s worth something.”
Mood: Determined.
I walk into calc class Monday morning with a purpose. Brie’s right. The fact that Darius likes me is worth something. And there’s no denying I like him back. He’s super sweet and protective of his sister, funny, has a lot of surprising talents, and—well, yeah—there are the curls and the kissing.
I thought about it all weekend and have made my decision. Today, in calc, I’m flipping the switch. And I don’t care if the whole Grand View High student body knows it.
I approach Darius’s desk. “Hey.”
He looks up, his eyes widening with surprise.
The girl at the desk next to his stares at me, a smirk spreading across her face. Someone a few rows away snickers. I hesitate. My mind flashes to my past with Ty, when most of the girls I passed in the hallway eyed me with envy.
The Boyfriend Whisperer 2.0 Page 10
