by Mara Wells
Danielle’s heart sank at his words. She remembered their graduation, how her dad had gone all out, renting the clubhouse at his golf course, how they’d worked together choosing decorations and the menu so everything would be just right. She remembered, too, how even though Knox’s family showed up for the ceremony, they hadn’t done anything special for him, just handed him a couple envelopes of cash.
“The gift for all occasions,” Knox had smirked when she’d asked to see his cards. He’d stuffed the envelopes into his pocket and spun her onto the dance floor. She’d been easily distracted by him back then, the feel of his hand on her back, how good he was at dancing when most of the guys in their class couldn’t do more than shuffle around to a slow song.
Danielle remembered Knox’s mother had come to the clubhouse and stayed an hour or so before rushing off but he’d stayed the entire time, never leaving Danielle’s side. That night was one of her happiest memories. For the first time, she wondered if he remembered it in the same way. While her memories were filled with friends and family and their good wishes, were his filled with disappointment that his own family hadn’t stuck around to celebrate with him?
“It’s not too long before Easter.” Danielle forced cheerfulness into her voice. “I’m surprised you don’t have your decorations up already, Eliza.”
Eliza waved her hand at the expanse of boxes. “Didn’t want to go through the hassle if I was selling the place, you know?”
“And we might close before Easter.” Knox tilted his head back, examining the overhead storage racks.
“Maybe, maybe not.” Eliza drifted toward the yellow boxes. “It’s always odd when Easter falls early in the year, isn’t it? Can’t trust Easter, can you, with the way it moves around on the calendar? I like a holiday that stays fixed in place, reliable, you know?”
“I guess I do.” Danielle’d never thought of holidays as being shifty before, but now she was suspicious of Easter. And Thanksgiving, too. “Still, you don’t want to let the neighborhood down. And how can Knox know if he wants to buy your decorations if he doesn’t know what they look like?”
Eliza cackled. “He didn’t even see every room in the house before making an offer.”
“I saw enough.” Knox spun in a circle like he expected to see the rest of the house from inside the garage.
“Didn’t even go in my crafting room.”
“Crafts?” Knox said the word like it was from another language, and he wasn’t sure how to pronounce it.
“She means her campaign headquarters. You saw all those protest posters in the living room?” Danielle nodded back toward the door into the kitchen. “Tip of the iceberg. She’s got a whole room dedicated to rabble-rousing.”
Eliza’s face fell. “Oh, I’ll miss that room. Where will I put all my supplies?”
Danielle curved an arm around the older woman’s shoulders. “You’ll figure it out.”
Eliza gave Danielle a squeeze before pulling away. “That I will. Now, let’s crack open some boxes, shall we?”
Knox scanned the wall of boxes. “I really don’t need to see—”
“I insist.” Danielle put her foot down, both literally and metaphorically. “Let’s get these Easter decorations down. I’m happy to help.”
“Sounds great.” Eliza’s agreement was so fast, it surprised Danielle. “Why not put them all out, too? No sense disappointing the neighborhood, is there?”
Danielle planted her hands on her hips. “This’ll be fun.”
“It will?” Knox scratched at the scruff on his chin, still eyeing the boxes suspiciously.
Eliza’s eyes moved from Danielle to Knox, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Why don’t I go make some lemonade while you two get all those boxes open?”
“Why do I feel like we were just conned?” Knox asked after Eliza closed the garage door behind her.
Danielle lifted a heavy box off the shelf and grinned. “Because we were.”
Chapter 8
“What is this?” Knox held up an egg-shaped Magic Eight Ball the size of a bowling ball, periwinkle blue with crack lines indicating the imminent arrival of a chick. Eliza’s front yard was most of the way to becoming an egg-hunt obstacle course, filled with colored eggs the size of small children, bunnies dressed in their Easter finest, and Danielle’s favorite, a giant Easter basket filled with fake, brightly colored grasses and glass eggs that glittered in the sunlight.
“The Magic Eight Ball!” Danielle swiped bangs out of her face and behind her ear. “Eliza always had that on the patio for kids who weren’t allowed any sugar.”
“Eggs aren’t made of sugar.” Knox stared into the eight ball as though it might contradict him.
“Eliza’s are.” Danielle opened up the last of the yellow bins, revealing a stash of small plastic eggs in every color of the pastel rainbow, plus a small stash of bright-red ones. “She fills these with candy and hides them in her yard. I remember it being such a thrill to find one. I’d plop right down and stuff chocolates in my mouth as fast as I could.”
“What kind of parent sends kids who can’t have sugar on a candy hunt?” Knox shook the ball, and words whirled in the window.
“The kind who knew Eliza had this.” Danielle grabbed it from him. “It’s so much smaller than I remember. She eventually found a sugar-free treat to put in the plastic eggs, but by then the Magic Eight Ball Easter Egg was a holiday tradition.”
“It’s enormous. Aren’t those things supposed to be the size of a pool ball?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Danielle wiped dust off the ball with the bottom of her T-shirt. “And this was a lot of fun. Every day, I’d come by after school to ask it questions.”
“Every day for your entire childhood? How did I not know about this?” Knox pulled a net of cottony fake grass out of a yellow bin. It stuck to his skin, outlining every contour of his muscled arms, clinging to his tattoo.
“Not every day. Eliza usually put the directions out a few weeks before Easter.” Danielle tore her gaze away from the inked lettering and gave Knox a wry smile. “And it was mostly a middle-school thing for me. Eliza’s house was on my walk home, so I stopped by any day it was out in the yard.” Danielle shook the ball. Reply hazy, try again. “Then, freshman year of high school, Kenny Rossi saw me playing with it and laughed. Said he couldn’t believe I was still such a little kid. That ended my Magic Eight Ball days, I’m afraid.”
“What an idiot.” Knox’s voice was gruff as he picked individual strands of sticky grass off his skin.
“I sure was, letting someone else shame me for some harmless fun.” Danielle shook the ball harder than she needed to. Stupid Kenny Rossi. He’d cheated off her in Algebra I, too, and almost made her fail the midterm because he couldn’t keep his eyes on his own exam.
“Not you. Him.” Knox strung his collection of clingy strings onto the Japanese boxwood shrub along the front of the house. The plastic grass was supposed to go in one of the small baskets Eliza used to line her walkway, but Danielle liked Knox taking decorative initiative so she let him string the grass along the hedge. She also liked him sticking up for her. She probably could’ve told him more in high school, but he was so popular and she was so…not. It had made her self-conscious, sometimes, wondering what he saw in her.
“I guess we don’t know as much about each other as I thought.” Knox frowned at the bushes, picking strings out from between his fingers.
Danielle stared at him, hand frozen in mid-eight-ball shake. It hadn’t occurred to her that he’d had secrets in high school, too, but of course he had. He’d never wanted to talk about his family, especially his mother, deflecting questions with hot kisses that left her unable to remember her own name, much less any topic of conversation. She gave the eight ball a half-hearted shake to avoid responding. What was there to say anyway, especially after all this time?
Knox nodded at the eight ball. “What’s it say?”
Danielle showed him the result—concentrate and ask again. “I didn’t ask a question, so it makes sense that the eight ball has no wisdom for me.”
“What kinds of things did you ask as a kid?” Knox stood back from the bushes, head cocked, then stepped forward to flick a few strands so they draped on the leaves evenly.
Danielle plopped onto the front step and shook the ball again, still no question in mind. “Will there be a math quiz tomorrow? Does Tommy Peralta like me? Will I get Ms. Kandice for homeroom next year? You know, kid stuff.”
“Did it answer you?” Knox took a break from hedge decorating and sat a careful few inches away from Danielle, close enough that she could imagine leaning against him but far enough away that she didn’t. Not that she would, she reminded herself. It wasn’t like that with Knox, not anymore.
She handed him the ball. “Sure. It’s what kept me coming back.”
“And did Tommy Peralta like you?”
Danielle folded her hands in her lap, fiddling with the nail on her thumb. “I believe the most common reply was Don’t count on it. Sometimes I got Ask again later, which I liked better. More hopeful.”
Knox gave the ball a hard shake. “Was Tommy Peralta a complete idiot?”
Without a doubt.
“See?” Knox held the response so she could see it. “You weren’t asking the right questions. And there seems to be an abnormal amount of idiotic guys at your middle school.”
“I’d say it was a normal amount of idiotic guys.” Danielle laughed, comfortable with Knox in a way she usually wasn’t with new people. But Knox wasn’t really new, was he? Just different. Older, more mature. And certainly more built. The width of his thigh next to hers made her feel small. When he laughed, too, she found herself inching toward him on the tiled step.
“What questions should I have asked?” Danielle caught her lower lip in her teeth, but it was too late to stop the words before they escaped. It wasn’t so much the words themselves as the way she’d said them. Low, breathy. Was she really sitting on Eliza’s front porch flirting with her ex-boyfriend? She was.
Knox’s eyes locked onto her lower lip, and he took a long blink. “You should’ve asked—” He coughed and started over, this time in a high-pitched cartoon voice, “Will I grow up to be the fairest of them all?”
Danielle laughed at the question and his poor acting skills.
“Here.” He handed her the ball after shaking it.
She hefted the weight of it in her palms, turning the plastic window toward her.
It is certain.
Danielle blushed. She felt the heat rise, knew it made her freckles blend together until she was one red-faced mess. She ducked her head, letting her bangs swing forward to cover her cheek while she pretended to study the ball.
“Two for two. Guess that thing is pretty accurate.” Knox closed the remaining inches between them, and their hips touched.
Danielle’s breath caught in her throat. She shook the ball idly to cover her intense reaction to Knox’s nearness.
“I always thought so,” she said once she’d coached her breathing back to normal. “It made me sad when Eliza packed it up for the year.”
“Ask it something now.” Knox nudged her with his knee.
Danielle slanted a glance at him under her eyelashes. She couldn’t shake the rightness she felt in Knox’s presence. The awareness of him, the longing for him. Did he feel the same pull? She asked the question in her mind and shook the ball.
Better not tell you now.
The breath rushed out of her. Had she really thought the Magic Eight Ball would add clarity? A kid’s toy? She deserved the disappointment that flooded her, bowing her spine so that she curled into the ball on her lap.
Knox tipped the ball his way with a finger. “A secret question, huh? That’s not playing fair. You have to ask it aloud. That’s the rule.”
“You didn’t even know how to play this game five minutes ago.”
“Now I do. Only questions asked out loud get real answers. Go ahead, ask it what you really want to know.” His blue eyes dared her.
Her heart sped. They might’ve had their secrets back then, but he’d always helped her feel braver than she really was. His eyes traced her face, the crinkles around his eyes tightening like he wanted to smile. His gaze landed on her lips and stayed there. “Go on. Ask.”
Danielle licked her suddenly dry lips, and Knox’s breath hitched.
“Does Knox Donovan want to kiss me?” Danielle closed her eyes and shook the ball.
The lightest of touches brushed across her lips. Her eyelids fluttered open at Knox’s gentle kiss. His lips pressed against hers for the briefest moment, his blue eyes intent on hers. Her own lips curled into a smile, and she leaned into the kiss, exerting her own pressure. He pulled back a fraction of an inch, then returned for another caress. It was simple and innocent, the tickle of their lips against each other, but her heart pounded like she was in the middle of a particularly brutal spin class.
Or a rough few laps during PE. Danielle closed her eyes, savoring the feel of Knox against her and the memory of their first kiss, as soft and innocent as this one. She’d just come from fourth period, still in the gym shorts that rode up her butt and the T-shirt that turned her breasts into one big camel hump. She’d often thought PE uniforms were specifically designed to humiliate D-cup girls. She’d ducked to the side of the gym, into an open-air hallway that didn’t get much use, to wait for the bell. She didn’t like changing in front of the other girls, not since the sixth grade when Andrea and Alyson had hidden her regular clothes while she was in the shower.
Now a junior, Danielle had learned to request fourth period PE so she could use the first few minutes of her lunch break to freshen up and change back into street clothes. The trick was staying out of the way so that no one knew what she was doing.
“I thought I saw you duck back here.” Knox Donovan had followed her that day. She’d spun, ponytail whacking her cheek like a whip, and taken a quick step backward.
“Just getting an, uh, drink.” She sidled over to the ancient water fountain and pushed on the bar. No water came out. Water hadn’t come out of that fountain in her lifetime. Still, she put on a show for Knox, wrinkling her brow. “Weird, right?”
Knox stood so the sun was behind him, his broad shoulders blocking the light. “Coach was in a mood today, huh? How many laps did you end up running?”
“Too many.” Danielle’s chest still heaved from the effort. She knew because Knox’s gaze locked there, and his next words were addressed directly to her breasts.
“I see you sneak out here every day. Why?” He forced his eyes back up to hers. “It’s not for the water.”
A high-pitched giggle escaped her. She sounded like a birthday balloon losing all its air at once. She slapped a hand over her mouth. Guys like Knox Donovan didn’t talk to her. She wasn’t an athlete like him, with his triple letters in football, basketball, and swim. She was just a science geek, keeping her head down and her grades up.
Knox stepped closer to her, peeling her fingers away from her mouth, one by one. One. By. One. Danielle didn’t know if he actually moved in slow motion or if her brain was seizing or something, but his large fingers engulfed her smaller ones. When he was done, they stood across from each other, somehow holding hands. She tugged at their entwined hands, but he hadn’t let go.
“I wanted to ask you something.” Knox pulled her a little closer.
She let him. “What?” Her heart pounded hard enough that she felt it in her throat even though she knew he was likely about to ask her for her bio notes.
His jaw thrust forward and his lower teeth pulled his perfect cupid’s bow of an upper lip down, gnawing on it like he was nervous. Ridiculous. She was not the kind of girl who made a guy like Knox Don
ovan nervous.
He released his tortured lip with a wet pop. Danielle couldn’t look away from how it glistened, couldn’t shake the desire to reach up and run her thumb along its plumpness.
“Do you want to go to homecoming with me?”
All Danielle’s attention was on Knox’s mouth, so she saw him form each word with his perfect lips. Heard them with her ears. It was her brain where the breakdown happened because she simply couldn’t process the question.
“Homecoming?” She tried to look away from his lips and failed.
Those lips curled into a smile. “The dance? It’s in two weeks?”
“Oh, that homecoming.” Her neurons were firing a million miles per minute; they simply weren’t all that concerned with language.
“Yeah, there are signs everywhere? It’s in the announcements every day?” He sounded amused and that lightness in his voice finally allowed her gaze to travel up to his.
“Seriously?” Danielle wanted to run away, but his grip on her hand kept her in place. She should say yes. Why didn’t she say yes?
Knox opened his mouth, but before he could say something about it all being a joke, Danielle blurted out, “Yes!” It came out too loud, so she said it again, “Yes,” but softer.
“Yes?” He echoed, bending toward her.
“Yes.” She whispered.
He brought those lips of his closer and closer to her face until he was only a breath away. “And if I wanted to kiss you right now?”
Her “yes” came out on a breath that he caught between them, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss so soft and sweet that her bones melted. Right there in the hallway, with her hideous PE uniform on, still sweaty from the laps from hell she’d run, she kissed Knox Donovan back. The bell rang, but they didn’t stop. He deepened the kiss, and she reached up to wrap her hand around the back of his neck. His palm cupped her hip, and she leaned into him.
A catcall finally broke them apart, but he pulled away, smiling. “I don’t think I can wait two weeks. Can you hang out after school today?”
