by Nia Stephens
Jacob shook his head, as if he felt sorry for her friends. “There’re all kinds of things they could be doing. But all they do is take up space.”
“Well, they’re my best friends, so I guess I’m just taking up space too.”
Kiki spun and tried to march away, but Jacob grabbed a belt loop and hung on.
“You’re different. You’re special. And you know it.” He was purring right into her ear, but that didn’t mean she had to listen.
“Because I know how to hit a drum and think up words that rhyme? In this town everyone and their brother can do that. Let go of me!”
“You know as well as I do that there’s a world of difference between you and those girlfriends of yours, and not because your skin is brown either. You’re an artist. You can see things they don’t see, and understand things they can’t even imagine.”
Kiki shut her eyes. That struck a chord. She knew her friends had no idea how it felt to come up with just the right words to reduce a feeling to a rhyme, or to have the power to make crowds scream your name. But she wasn’t going to let Jacob win this one.
“What makes you think you know what I can and can’t see?”
“I know because I see it, too, in every song you ever wrote. I know it because I know you. Your friends can’t even tell which songs are yours from listening to the lyrics, can they? They have no idea what’s really going on inside you.”
Part of Kiki wanted to defend her friends. Part of her wanted to scream at Jacob for imagining that he understood her when they’d had all of one conversation in the last two hours. And part of her couldn’t ignore the truth in what he said, that the Pussycats had no idea what was going on inside her—even Mark didn’t really understand the first thing about her feelings. And, beneath all her thoughts about friendship and understanding and loyalty and love, Kiki could not ignore Jacob’s breath on her neck, or the way his thumb was pressing into the small of her back, an inch away from the black lace edging her thong.
“What makes you think you understand the first thing about me?” she asked, turning back toward him. She meant to stare him down. Instead, she found herself drowning in twin pools of gold, as Jacob stared at her as if she were the only woman left in a world of shadows. This was passion. It had nothing to do with the friendly hookups Kiki had shared with Jason, or the slow-burning tenderness she felt for Mark. Jacob was looking at Kiki as if she was the light after a year of darkness.
Inside, the final band had taken the stage, and the Maze thudded with relentless bass. Kiki leaned against the rough wall and shut her eyes, trying to remember that she wasn’t sure what she thought about Jacob. But despite the conflict in her mind, her body didn’t mind at all when Jacob leaned in to whisper, “I am part of the beat. I am the dark and the heat. The pulse in your wrist. The dance in your feet. A shot of musical whiskey served up neat.”
Kiki felt dizzy, almost drunk: pressed between Jacob’s heat and the cold wall, Kiki wasn’t thinking at all, her mind awash in sensations as he kissed her. His stubble burned her cheeks and chin, but his lips were soft and insistent. She almost didn’t recognize the pulse of her cell phone in her back pocket.
She broke off the kiss and said, “I’ve got to go home.”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss her again.
She gave him a firm shove. “Seriously. I have to go home.”
He gave her the golden stare again, but she resisted this time. She had too much to lose to risk missing her curfew.
“Okay. If that’s what you want.”
Without another word, he headed for his car. Kiki followed him, still feeling more than a little shaken. The ride home was silent, except for the wind roaring in Kiki’s ears. Once they got to her house, he kissed her again, and she had to tear herself away. She climbed out of the car quickly. It was too easy to lose herself in his passion, and her curfew was just minutes away.
“Can I see you tomorrow?” he asked her, his eyes catching the light from the dashboard.
“I’ll be in the studio until ten forty-five, and I told Laura Keller I would go to her party.” She almost asked if he was going, then remembered that Jacob never went to Wentworth parties. He even skipped their Sophomore Soirée, though there were girls who would have cut off their little fingers to go with him.
“Catch you there.”
“Really?” Kiki was trying not to sound shocked, but she was.
He nodded once, as if it was no big deal, then roared off into the quiet streets of Belle Meade.
Kiki was not surprised when her phone rang ten minutes later. The Pussycat Posse knew her curfew very well.
“Yes, Camille?” she answered, wriggling out of her jeans with the phone tucked between her shoulder and her ear.
“Dude, I cannot believe what a dick Jacob was. What’s his issue?”
“Well, you guys were being complete idiots,” Kiki reminded her. “Come on! We were on a date!”
“What kind of baby just stomps off and has a temper tantrum?”
“What kind of baby walks around singing that stupid song? How old are we, Cam?”
“But we’ve known each other forever. It’s no big deal, singing a song. How much did it bother you?” Camille asked her.
“I wasn’t happy about it, for the record. I mean, he’d only just started talking to me. Really talking.”
“And you guys went out at seven?” Camille asked. “That’s a little weird.”
“Seven-thirty. And I think he’s a little shy,” Kiki admitted. It was strange, thinking of someone like Jacob as shy, but what else would you call someone uncomfortable talking with people, no matter what he’d said about Holden and Jane in Catcher in the Rye?
“If he’s your soul mate, he can’t be shy. You’re not shy. You’re the opposite of shy,” Camille insisted.
“The word is ‘extroverted,’ and I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”
“Kiki, he doesn’t talk. He flips out over nothing. He’s a creep. I know the packaging is nice, but we can totally find you something better.”
“You don’t know anything about him, Cam.”
“And don’t you think that’s a little weird? I mean, we’ve been going to school with him for eleven years. I think you should drop him.”
Kiki had finished undressing and had shrugged on an old Pink Floyd T-shirt by then, but Camille’s suggestion put all thought of sleep out of her mind. Camille gave everyone a chance—well, everyone but Franklin, and only because Kiki had told her exactly how slutty he really was. If anything, Kiki thought Camille was a little too open-minded when it came to guys, and she had a lot more dating experience than Kiki.
On the other hand, Camille hadn’t talked to Jacob in years. Kiki had. And a lot of what he said made sense to her. Maybe Camille knew less about Kiki than Jacob did.
“Random change of subject,” Kiki said. “Do you know which songs I wrote on Sorry, We’re Open?”
“Um . . . the third one, ‘Carry On’?” Camille guessed.
“‘Carry On’ is track six. Track three is ‘Temptationland.’”
“Did you write that one?” Camille asked.
“‘Temptationland’ is about getting a blow job, Cam. I didn’t write that one.”
“Oh. Maybe ‘Candy Cigarette’? Why? What’s with the Temporary Insanity trivia?”
“Never mind,” Kiki said, shaking her head. “I’ve got to get some sleep.”
But once Kiki slid under the covers, she had a hard time falling asleep. Was Camille right about Jacob? Was Jacob right about her? Did it matter, when the thought of his eyes, his hands, his mouth was enough to make the room spin?
SHOULD KIKI TRY HIM ON?
Turn to page 141 to see if Jacob’s her perfect fit.
SHOULD KIKI PUT HIM BACK ON THE RACK?
Turn to page 149 to see what happens if she tells him goodbye.
Think it’s time Kiki played with fire? Read on to see if
Kiki’s love life turns red hot or if she just gets burned.
Chapter 5
Panic at the Disco
“Need a ride to Laura’s?” Mark asked when they wrapped their session at the studio the following night.
“No, I’ve got one.” Kiki busied herself wiping down her drums so that she wouldn’t have to meet Mark’s eyes.
“Who?”
“Jacob.”
“You and Young, huh?” Franklin asked, his voice rich with curiosity. “I always thought he was kind of weird.”
“He’s just quiet,” Kiki said, trying not to slam the door as she flew from the recording booth.
Jacob was waiting for her outside, and she didn’t wait to watch the studio assistants load her drum kit into Franklin’s van. She kissed Jacob hello, but briefly, not wanting to put on a show for the sound engineers and producers gathering outside the studio—not to mention her bandmates.
“So, are you and Laura tight?” Jacob asked while he was stopped at a red light.
“Not really, no.” Laura was the only other girl in third period AP Physics. Kiki always worked with her when she and Mark were having a fight.
He snorted, and before Kiki could ask him what his problem was with Laura Keller, the light changed and they screeched off, the rushing winds again so loud that conversation was impossible. The next time they were stopped, though, she returned to the subject.
“You can’t say that Laura’s dumb. She’s probably going to be the valedictorian.”
“She’s like a diamond-studded calculator: she’s pretty, and she crunches numbers, but there’s nothing going on inside. Have you ever heard her talk? ‘Oh, I can’t eat another doughnut. Oh, I look so fat.’ She may be book-smart, but she’s as shallow as a dirty ditch.”
Kiki didn’t want to laugh, since Laura really was a sweet girl, but Jacob’s imitation of her couldn’t have been better.
“So is there anyone in our class you actually like?”
He grinned. “I like you.”
“I kind of figured that much. But is there anyone else?”
He shrugged and gunned the engine, pinning Kiki to her seat. It was the last chance they had to talk before they arrived at Laura Keller’s house. Both of Laura’s parents worked in the music industry, and they were still in New York, but the party was still mostly confined to the basement rec room. It spilled out onto the back lawn, though, where the people who were so drunk they didn’t feel the autumn bite in the night air danced to ’80s rock, heavy with synth.
“Feel like dancing?” Kiki asked hopefully, as “Take on Me” came on just as they entered the basement.
Jacob made a face, but he took both her hands and began to rock out, old-school. Kiki could sense the stares, even though it was dark enough in the basement that she couldn’t see much except other dancing shadows and the drops of light shed by a spinning disco ball. Most people there had to be amazed that Jacob Young had come to a party; others were probably shocked that he had come to a party with Kiki Kelvin. Franklin and Mark were surprised—she could see them watching her from the room’s one well-lit corner, by the stereo and the kegs.
And Kiki knew her classmates had to be amazed at how well Jacob danced—she almost wished she could just sit and watch him. Almost, but not quite, especially when the syrupy theme from “Dirty Dancing” came on. Jacob held her so close she thought he would never let her go. She rested her head on his shoulder, thinking how lucky she was to have found someone who was so crazy about her that he would waltz to a song as cheesy as “I’ve Had the Time of My Life,” surrounded by people he couldn’t stand, just to be with her.
The next song was one Temporary Insanity covered, “Eternal Flame,” by the Bangles.
“Your version is a lot better,” Jacob told Kiki, spinning her once before she nestled back in his arms again.
“So you were at the show last week?” It was their first public performance of the song, though they had practiced it, on and off, for a year.
Jacob didn’t say anything. Kiki shouldn’t have been surprised—after all, he wasn’t the most talkative boy she had ever dated—but there was something about this silence that tipped her off.
“You taped the show, didn’t you?” She froze in his arms, then stepped away. “That’s why you know the lyrics to ‘Welcome to the Dance Floor’—you have a bootleg recording of it.”
“It wasn’t me,” Jacob said instantly. “I wasn’t even at the show. I swear.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Have you ever seen me at a show?”
Kiki paused, trying to remember if she had ever seen him, or if anyone had ever mentioned seeing him at a Temporary Insanity show. She couldn’t, though. Not once. That’s why she was so surprised to see her lyrics on his HelloHello profile.
“But you know someone who did tape it. Care to share, Jacob? Because my label would be very interested in that information. Did they play it over the school PA system instead of the announcements, too, or was that you?”
He didn’t answer her—surprise, surprise. He just shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at her with his usual superior expression.
“Franklin!” she shouted at full volume. “Mark! A little help?”
The whispered conversations surrounding the dance floor died, and some of the kids in the backyard came rushing back, sensing a scene about to unfold. Kiki had a singer’s lungs, and she could scream very, very loudly.
“That wasn’t me!” Jacob insisted.
“Oh really? Why should I believe that?”
“Because we understand each other!”
“Do you understand that taping a live show is illegal?” Kiki’s voice rose again to a shout.
Before Jacob could answer, there was a sudden roiling in the crowd.
“What was that?” Franklin demanded, stumbling toward the two of them, clearly trashed. “Is Jacob bootlegging?”
“I think he might be the one who put us on the morning announcements,” Kiki said.
“Prove it,” Jacob said coldly, crossing his arms.
Franklin just smiled. “Here’s proof!” He nailed Jacob in the jaw before Kiki realized what he was doing.
Jacob didn’t go down. Instead, he swung at Franklin, only missing because Franklin was so drunk he couldn’t stand without weaving. That didn’t stop Franklin from landing a punch in Jacob’s gut.
“That’s enough!” Mark yelled, fighting his way through the crowd to grab Franklin. Kiki had to stand between them and Jacob, who was still trying to land another punch.
“Get lost,” Kiki told Jacob. “It’s over.”
“I’m not finished with him!” Jacob growled.
“I’m finished with you.” Kiki turned her back on Jacob and helped Mark drag Franklin to a bathroom upstairs. He struggled all the way, but once they arrived, Franklin slumped thankfully by the toilet and began to hurl.
“This reminds me of our first show in Athens,” Mark said cheerfully, sitting on the edge of the tub. Kiki wondered if he was happy because they had someone to blame for the morning announcements prank or because she was clearly single again. “I thought that bouncer was going to kill Franklin.”
“Just like old times.” Kiki tried and failed to sound as happy as Mark. She slumped next to him, and he gave her a friendly pat on the knee.
“Cheer up, K. You found out who pulled the announcements stunt. You’re a hero!”
“A hero who just had the worst date ever!”
“Oh, I can top that. Did I ever tell you about my last date with Sarah Jane?”
Franklin pulled his head out of the toilet and asked, “Did it end with having to take her to a dentist to get out the condom stuck in her braces?”
“Um, no.”
“Then it wasn’t the worst date ever.”
Franklin’s head disappeared into the toilet bowl again.
Now Kiki had to laugh. “Thanks, guys. Actually, that does make me feel a little better.”
“Yeah
, forget that weirdo,” Franklin rumbled from inside the bowl. “What do you need with other guys when you’ve got us?”
Kiki patted him on the back. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”
Just then, Camille’s tousled blond head popped into the doorway. “When I heard you and Mark were in the bathroom, this is not what I expected.”
“Where have you been?” Kiki asked. “You missed all the excitement.”
“My timing sucks,” she admitted, poking her head a little farther into the room. “Like, I probably shouldn’t be here now, but I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine,” Kiki insisted, her heart squeezing to hear the concern in Camille’s voice. Anyone else would have come to say “I told you so.” Only a true friend would care more about Kiki’s feelings than being right. And even if she and Camille were very different, Camille was a great friend. No matter how Jacob had momentarily twisted Kiki’s thinking. “And you can come in. Nothing’s happening here.”
“Nothing?” Camille asked, full of hope for Kiki and Mark.
“Nothing,” Kiki and Mark said at once. Kiki thought she heard something very final in Mark’s voice. He might have been jealous of Jacob, but he still wasn’t ready to ask Kiki out himself. A week before, Kiki would have been crushed. A day before, she would not have cared either way. But at this moment, she was almost relieved. She wasn’t in the mood for going out with anyone just yet, no matter how well she thought she understood him.
“Scoot over,” Camille said, edging Kiki and Mark closer together. “I want to hear all about the drama.”
“I was a total hero, Camille!” Franklin said. Then he threw up again. Everyone tried to muffle the laughter they couldn’t quite contain.
“Franklin was awesome,” Kiki said, rolling her eyes at Camille, setting her off again. “Let me tell you all about it.”
Sounds like Kiki is tired of boy shopping—are you? Turn to page 149 to see what would have happened if Kiki had dumped Jacob after one date, or turn to page 57 to choose another boy.
