John shook his head. Jenny couldn’t see it because she was so much shorter than him, but Coach did. Too bad it didn’t make a difference.
“Thanks, John.” He clapped him on the back and sealed our fate—at least for the rest of the period—and left.
“At least at the nurse’s station, you can get a slip to excuse you from history,” I offered with a lift of my palms.
He laughed. “A silver lining.”
I smiled, that same feeling of warmth and gooeyness came over me when he’d looked into my eyes.
“Get going, Greenwood,” Coach barked.
I jolted back to the track and started up, my knees feeling like they weighed three hundred pounds. It wasn’t until I was halfway around the track that I realized John had been distracted by me too. And he’d been about to say something important when I’d bumbled into Jenny.
The last 3.5 miles flew by as I obsessed over what he was going to say.
Chapter Seventeen
Later that night, I was in the bistro with Sydney, recounting the gym class experience in hushed tones. Tonight was Asian food night. I’d had four egg rolls, and my stomach was trying to figure out if it hated me or not.
“So he skipped class to hang out with you?”
“Not really. Our project is in a crisis.”
“More than you know.” John grabbed the chair next to me, flipped it around, and rested his arms on the back. “The only two left are Grayson and Brittany.” He spied the last egg roll on my plate and grabbed it. “I’m starving.” He took a bite and sagged in his seat. “This is so good,” he mumbled.
I pushed my untouched bowl of Shan noodles toward him. “You did almost run a mile today.”
He smirked at me, and my heart somersaulted.
“You’re not skipping out on something, are you?” I glanced at my phone. It was after six, and he was usually hard at work as Party Kid.
“Yeah. I’m skipping my mom’s photo shoot.” He shoved in food.
“That’s an impressive use of chopsticks,” Sydney said appreciatively. She’d once joked that all she had to do to lose weight was eat every meal with chopsticks.
I cringed. “Is your mom going to be mad?”
He lifted a shoulder. “I don’t care. She doesn’t give a rip about what’s important to me.”
“But …” I mentally raced through her blog. “She’s always inviting your friends over. And she makes your favorite breakfasts from scratch on the first day of school.”
He snorted. “The food is inedible after the photographers get done with it. I had a Pop-Tart.” He set the empty bowl down. “And she only invites my friends so she has people to photograph. I’m basically a store mannequin for her to dress up and show off.”
“Ouch.” I placed a hand on his arm. The connection I felt with him, the one that was stronger than common sense, sparked to life.
“Anyway.” He set the bowl down, and I pulled my hand away. “I had a ton to do and needed to be away from the house. It’s Magnificent Monday, and that’s a zoo.”
I’d seen so many Magnificent Monday posts. They were one of my favorites. Mrs. Herrington would play dress-up with John’s little sisters. They’d take pictures, have tea parties, and nibble on chocolate truffles. Or they’d do homemade spa days. I couldn’t believe anyone looked good in an oatmeal mask, but they did.
“So, we’re basically dead in the water on this app. I’m sorry. We should have gone with your idea in the first place. I didn’t know it would fall apart on us.” He set the bowl down, his face long.
“It’s not your fault.” It wasn’t. If anything, it was my fault. I was the one who’d programmed the compatibility stuff. “Besides, something good came out of it.” I nodded, indicating that he should look behind him.
He and Sydney turned at once. Two tables over sat Grayson and Brittany. Brittany was gazing up at him shyly, and he whispered something in her ear. She smiled, her whole face lighting up. The moment was Meg Ryan worthy in its sweetness and perfection.
Sydney sighed happily. “They are so cute together.”
I sat up straighter. “And Jennica and Kevin are going to the dance together. I saw it on her feed. She’s really happy.”
“Yeah. We can feel good about that,” said John.
“But what about the TACS award?” asked Sydney.
I gave her a hard look, telling her to keep it quiet.
John flipped around. “What about it?”
I begged Sydney to be silent.
She glanced back and forth between the two of us. “Adelle was dying to win that award. She’s been planning on it for three years.”
“Sydney!” I hushed her.
She lifted a shoulder. “You have.”
John frowned. “And with everyone dropping out—we have nothing to submit. I screwed everything up.”
“No,” I offered. “It’s fine. There are other awards.”
He traced the edge of the table. “I might be able to fix this.”
“Really?” I leaned toward him. My hopes soaring. “You can?”
He nodded slowly.
“Then do it.” I grinned. I glanced down at my food. “Did you want any more of this?”
“No thanks.” He ran his hand over his stomach, and his face pinched.
I knew how he felt. The egg rolls sat heavily on my gut.
“Can I walk you back to your dorm?” He stood up and spun the chair around.
I blinked at his sudden urge to leave. “Sure.”
We said goodbye to Sydney and made our way to the common room. My dorm was on the main level.
As we walked, he took in everything. “Do you like living here?”
“Yeah. It’s nice to have my own space. I see my parents on Sundays and sometimes otherwise, but it’s good. Why?”
“I’d love to move in—get away from my family for a while.”
I quieted down. It was a sobering thought that this guy who seemed to have it all wasn’t happy with what he had. As busy and distracted as my parents could be, I knew that if I called, they’d be here in a heartbeat. I wondered if John felt that way too.
“Well, this is me.” I pushed open my door and dropped my backpack inside.
He rushed me, putting his hands on my sides and pulling my body flush with his as we landed against the wall.
The world spun, and my breath hitched. “John?” I whispered.
He searched my eyes for a brief moment. I caught something there, something that didn’t quite fit. And then his lips were on mine, and my brain, my heart, all of me was full of him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back.
He moved slow, like he had all the time in the world to share this moment.
When we were both out of breath, he pulled back and dropped his hands. “I’m really glad I got to know you.”
His words were 7% off their mark—his tone not quite delicious enough. It was almost like he was saying goodbye. But that couldn’t be right. “You flip my brain upside down.” I stared at him. He had such a nice face—beautiful, really.
He chuckled. “I know how that feels too.” With that, he grabbed his bag and left.
I sagged all the way down to sitting cross-legged on the floor. “John Herrington III, you are the most confusing boy I have ever met.” And the best—ever.
Chapter Eighteen
I had a great week. John and I met up as often as possible, stealing kisses when no one was looking. He ditched his mom’s thing again on Wednesday, and we went out to eat. I laughed through dinner. I don’t think I’d ever felt so light.
The only problem was when we were in school. He didn’t hold my hand in the hallway like all the other boyfriends did. I worried about it and talked it over with Sydney. She said to stop obsessing and just enjoy the moment.
I did. But then, when he’d go home, he’d disappear. I got that his mom controlled his house. He’d made a few more comments along that line, but I didn’t see why he couldn’t text or call. Or text
!
Usually I would have an hour or two a night that I could watch movies with Sydney or just hang out. But I spent so much of my school day daydreaming about John that time escaped from me and I scrambled to accomplish even the smallest assignments.
Our project continued to tank. Mr. Hubert said that we had to get some concrete matches to prove the viability of the project, or he wouldn’t recommend it for the TACS award. I borderline didn’t care. I mean, as long as I got John out of the whole thing and we got an A in class … I could skip the competition.
I had it bad for John. He was in my brain.
I also had a huge internal debate over inviting him to Sunday brunch. I waffled all week long. I’d never taken anyone home for brunch—not even Syd. So it was a huge step. So was meeting his mom. I felt like I should reciprocate, and the least awkward way to do that was brunch.
But then, on Saturday morning, he posted a pic of him and Nicole—just the two of them—assembling decorations for his little sister’s b-day party. I wanted to throw up. If they didn’t look so good together, I might get over it, but they both had shiny hair, his several shades lighter than hers. And the way she gazed up at him, like he invented the alphabet—gag!
Mrs. Herrington posted a teaser about John and Nicole going to homecoming together. I spent the rest of Saturday in a gummy-bear-induced coma.
John had asked me. I knew her post was probably for ratings, but I couldn’t stop the tear in my heart from hurting. He could have invited me over to make decorations. I wasn’t crafty, but I could fake it for the camera.
Sunday morning rolled around, and I thought about calling in sick for brunch with my parents. But one look at the candy wrappers strewn about my room, and I did not want Mom and Dad showing up on a mercy mission. They’d freak out and think I wasn’t responsible enough to live on my own. They might even insist I move back in with them.
I was a sophomore in high school. I could do this.
I put on my big-girl panties and met Rufus out front. He had a jaunty smile for me—probably glad I’d given up my “dancing in fountain” days and decided to straighten out my life. If he only knew.
The sky was cloudy and gray, promising rain. I prayed it would deliver. Not only was I in the mood for a downpour, but it would ruin whatever outdoor activity Mrs. Herrington planned for John and his new BFF. Seriously? Nicole?
Brunch was skillet meals. We could pick from any one of a dozen different skillets. They all had some kind of veggie and meat. I drowned mine in cheese.
Mom lifted an eyebrow.
“What? You’re not going to eat it,” I teased, though my tone was flat.
Dad rubbed his palms together. “You’ve been knocking it out of the park with your goals this year, honey.”
“We are so proud of you.” Mom patted my hand. “You’re growing in wonderful ways.”
I smiled without showing my teeth. I felt like I was shrinking. For all I knew, John was kissing Nicole right now over their own brunch creations. I’d wanted to talk to Mom about shopping for a dress, but the words globbed together and refused to come out. What if he had dumped me for her?
“So, next goal—” Dad started.
“Stop.” I cut him off with a glare. I was stretched too far as it was; I couldn’t take anymore.
He blinked several times before softening his features into a placating look. “Honey, there’s no reason to worry. You didn’t think you’d have fun with the first one, and you did.”
I stood up, anger, adrenaline, and a sense of self-preservation pulsing through my veins. “No. No more goals. No more planning out my life. No more interfering—and yes, it’s interfering. I refuse to be your guinea pig.”
“Honey, it’s not like that.”
“Really? Tell me you’re not writing an article about this for Parents & Psychology.”
He hesitated just long enough for me to know I’d hit the nail on the head.
“You are, aren’t you?”
“You’ve made such wonderful progress.” He reached for my hand, but I snatched it away. “And I don’t see you as article fodder.”
“If you loved me, you’d ask me what I wanted to do and help me get there—not force some unrealistic social expectations on me so that I have to date, go to parties, and get my heart torn out.” I started pacing. The past four years flashed before my eyes. I’d willingly jumped into planning sessions and goal setting, but how much of it had been about me and how much was about Dad and his career? “I just want to win the TACS award, go to college, and live my life. I shouldn’t have to worry about my parents thinking I’m behind in something. I don’t need that kind of pressure.”
“Adelle,” my mom said in her warning tone.
I spun on her. “No. You’re just as bad. You could have told him how important the TACS award was and stopped him from pushing the partners thing. But you didn’t.”
I stomped from the room. Neither of them came after me, which made me even more sad. When I was a kid, they refused to let angry words hang in the house like Christmas stockings. But they let me leave.
I landed in the back seat of the car, swiping tears off my cheeks. “Take me back to school, please,” I rasped.
Rufus cast a concerned look in the rearview, but I refused to meet his gaze. The car pulled away and I wrapped my arms around myself.
I was so tired of people playing with my heart. My parents. John. From here on out, I would stick to 1s and 0s.
Chapter Nineteen
I didn’t want to, but I stared at the door to our computer programming class, waiting for John. I didn’t want to see him. But I did. We’d left for the weekend with a kiss, but then he’d spent time with Nicole—and posted about it. And then she posted about it.
What was I supposed to think? She torpedoed our project, and he cooked muffins with her. I couldn’t decide what was real and what wasn’t. Were we a thing? Did he like me? Or was I just someone to make out with when no one was watching?
Gag! That made me feel awful about myself. What was worse was that I would consider making out with him again—I enjoyed it that much.
I was so messed up.
John dragged himself into class. His hair spiked in all directions, and his tie was crooked. He had bags under his bloodshot eyes. Good. He should feel horrible. He sat down at our blob and stared at Mr. Hubert.
“Your presentations are due Wednesday. I hope you’re ready, because I have a pop quiz for today.”
The whole class moaned. That was just cruel. It fell right in line with the rest of my life.
“Did you get the slide show done?” I asked. We’d taken what little social proof and actual proof we had and done an outline. John offered to create the slide show because I’d done so much work on the app.
“No.” He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and finger. “Mom was mad that I skipped out on her last week, and she crammed the weekend full of stuff, including a stargazing photo shoot. I only had three hours of sleep last night.”
“We’re presenting Wednesday,” I hissed. Hubert was on the other side of the room, handing out access codes to the quiz.
“I know. I’m working as fast as I can.”
I bit back my retort. He really did look drained. If he didn’t get some sleep, he’d end up getting a cold. The fall damp had set in, and Mom upped my vitamin C regimen. In a delivery—not in person. Both parents had sent emails, but I had yet to open them. I was still mad. And worried.
“Listen. It doesn’t look like I’ll be able to take you to homecoming.” He stared at the blob, his face unreadable. “I’m sorry.”
I looked at the table too. It was safer and kept the emotions spinning inside of me from showing. I’d expected this. I’d seen the writing on the blog. The images. And I knew how much his mom influenced him. I just wish that he’d been strong enough to stand up to her for me.
“It’s no big deal.” Except it was. It was huge. And it stung more than a thousand swarming bees. Suddenly not wanting him c
lose at all, I said, “I’ll do the presentation. That will give you more time with Nicole, anyway.”
His head popped up. “Adelle, it’s—”
“No talking.” Hubert handed John a card with his access code and then handed one to me too.
John frowned.
“Headphones if you have them.” Hubert rapped his knuckles on my desk. I pulled out my noise-canceling headgear and put it on.
The quiz took half the class time, and I spent the rest of it building our presentation. I’d still have a few hours of work, but at least it was a start. At least six times I wanted to show something to John, to ask his opinion. But I refrained. I’d worked solo before I’d met him, and I could work solo now.
So why did I feel icky and miss him so much?
Chapter Twenty
Other than sending John the report so he could look it over before we presented, I didn’t see or talk to him. Avoiding him was much easier than I’d anticipated, which made me wonder if he was avoiding me too.
Gym was miserable. Every time I rounded the track, I was reminded of how he’d skipped class to see me.
To top it off, I was still mad at my parents. I hadn’t read their emails. I didn’t want to hear their side of things yet. Dad tried to call, but I let it go to voicemail. He’d pushed me too far, too fast. And where was my mom in all of this? Right next to him.
Maybe they were the perfect match and I just hadn’t seen it before.
I made it to programming right before the bell rang. John was already at our blob. I looked at everyone but him. A couple of the groups wore theme clothing, tee shirts with their website names and such. Basically, it was an excuse to get out of the school uniform for once. I didn’t blame them and wished I’d thought of it. Something like that was more up John’s alley than mine, though. He was the idea man. He should have brought it up. Maybe his mom was right; maybe he didn’t follow through. I hated that I even had that thought.
Don't Kiss Your Lab Partner Page 9
