Текст книги "It's Not Summer Without You"

Автор книги: Jenny Han

Соавторы: Jenny Han
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chapter thirteen

jeremiah

When my mom found out Conrad was taking Belly to prom, she freaked out. She was insanely happy. You’d have thought they were getting married or something. I hadn’t seen her happy like that in a long time, and part of me was glad that he could give her that. But mostly I was just jealous. My mom kept calling him at school, reminding him of things like to make sure he rented his tux in time. She said maybe he could borrow mine, and I said I doubted it would fit. She left it at that, which I was relieved about. I ended up going to some girl from Collegiate’s prom that night so he couldn’t have worn it anyway. The point is, even if he could have, I wouldn’t have wanted him to.

She made him promise that he’d be sweet to her, the perfect gentleman. She said, “Make it a night she’ll always remember.”

When I got home the afternoon after prom, Conrad’s car was in the driveway, which was weird. I’d thought he was staying at Laurel’s house and then going straight back to school. I stopped by his room, but he was asleep, and pretty soon after, I passed out too.

That night we ordered Chinese food that Mom said she was in the mood for, but when it came, she didn’t eat any.

We ate in the TV room, on the couch, something we never did before she got sick. “So?” she asked, looking at Conrad all eagerly. It was the most energetic I’d seen her all day.

He was shoving a spring roll down his throat, like he was in some big hurry. And he’d brought all this laundry home with him, like he expected Mom to do it. “So what?” he asked.

“So you made me wait all day to hear about the prom! I want to know everything!”

“‘Oh, that,’” he said. He had this embarrassed look on his face, and I knew he didn’t want to talk about it. I was sure he’d done something to screw it up.

“‘Oh, that,’” my mom teased. “Come on, Connie, give me some details. How did she look in her dress? Did you dance? I want to hear everything. I’m still waiting on Laurel to email me the pictures.”

“It was okay,” Conrad said.

“That’s it?” I said. I was annoyed with him that night, with everything about him. He’d gotten to take Belly to her prom and he acted like it was some big chore. If it had been me, I would have done it right.

Conrad ignored me. “She looked really pretty. She wore a purple dress.”

My mom nodded, smiling. “I know exactly the one. How’d the corsage look?”

He shifted in his seat. “It looked nice.”

“Did you end up getting the kind you pin on or the kind you wear on your wrist?”

“The kind you pin on,” he said.

“And did you dance?”

“Yeah, a lot,” he said. “We danced, like, every song.”

“What was the theme?”

“I don’t remember,” Conrad said, and when my mother looked disappointed he added, “I think it was A Night on the Continent. It was, like, a tour of Europe. They had a big Eiffel Tower with Christmas tree lights on it, and a London Bridge you could walk across. And a Leaning Tower of Pisa.”

I looked over at him. A Night on the Continent was our school’s prom theme last year; I know because I was there.

But I guess my mother didn’t remember, because she said, “Oh, that sounds so nice. I wish I could’ve been at Laurel’s house to help Belly get ready. I’m gonna call Laure tonight and bug her to send me those pictures. When do you think you’ll get the professional pictures back? I want to get them framed.”

“I’m not sure,” he said.

“Ask Belly, will you?” She set her plate down on the coffee table and leaned back against the couch cushions. She looked exhausted all of a sudden.

“I will,” he said.

“I think I’m going to bed now,” she said. “Jere, will you get all this cleaned up?”

“Sure, Mom,” I said, helping her to her feet.

She kissed us both on the cheek and went to her bedroom. We’d moved the study upstairs and put her bedroom downstairs so she didn’t have to go up and down the stairs.

When she was gone, I said, sarcastically, “So you guys danced all night, huh?”

“Just leave it,” Conrad said, leaning his head back against the couch.

“Did you even go to the prom? Or did you lie to Mom about that, too?”

He glared at me. “Yeah, I went.”

“Well, somehow I doubt you guys danced all night,” I said. I felt like a jerk but I just couldn’t let it go.

“Why do you have to be such a dick? What do you care about the prom?”

I shrugged. “I just hope you didn’t ruin it for her. What are you even doing here, anyway?”

I expected him to get pissed, in fact I think I hoped he would. But all he said was, “We can’t all be Mr. Prom King.” He started closing the takeout boxes. “Are you done eating?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m done,” I said.

chapter fourteen

When we drove up to campus, there were people milling around outside on the lawn. Girls were laying out in shorts and bikini tops, and a group of boys were playing Ultimate Frisbee. We found parking right in front of Conrad’s dorm and then we slipped inside the building when a girl stepped out with a laundry basket full of clothes. I felt so incredibly young, and also lost—I’d never been there before. It was different than I’d pictured it. Louder. Busier.

Jeremiah knew the way and I had to hurry to keep up. He took the stairs two at a time and at the third floor, we stopped. I followed him down a brightly lit hallway. On the wall by the elevator there was a bulletin board with a poster that read, Let’s talk about sex, baby . There were STD pamphlets and a breast exam how-to, and neon condoms were stapled around artfully. “Take one,” someone had written in highlighter. “Or three.”

Conrad’s door had his name on it, and underneath it, the name “Eric Trusky.”

His roommate was a stocky, muscular guy with reddish brown hair, and he opened the door wearing gym shorts and a T-shirt. “What’s up?” he asked us, his eyes falling on me. He reminded me of a wolf.

Instead of feeling flattered by a college guy checking me out, I just felt grossed out. I wanted to hide behind Jeremiah the way I used to hide behind my mother’s skirt when I was five and really shy. I had to remind myself I was sixteen, almost seventeen. Too old to be nervous around a guy named Eric Trusky. Even if Conrad did tell me that Eric was always forwarding him freaky porno videos and stayed on his computer pretty much all day. Except for when he watched his soaps from two to four.

Jeremiah cleared his throat. “I’m Conrad’s brother, and this is—our friend,” he said. “Do you know where he is?”

Eric opened the door and let us in. “Dude, I have no idea. He just took off. Did Ari call you?”

“Who’s Ari?” I asked Jeremiah.

“The RA,” he said.

“Ari the RA,” I repeated, and the corners of Jeremiah’s mouth turned up.

“Who are you?” Eric asked me.

“Belly.” I watched him, waiting for a glimmer of recognition, something that let me know that Conrad talked about me, had at least mentioned me. But of course there was nothing.

“Belly, huh? That’s cute. I’m Eric,” he said, leaning against the wall.

“Um, hi,” I said.

“So—Conrad didn’t say anything to you before he left?” Jeremiah interjected.

“He barely talks, period. He’s like an android.” Then he grinned at me. “Well, he talks to pretty girls.”

I felt sick inside. What pretty girls? Jeremiah exhaled loudly and clasped his hands behind his head. Then he took out his phone and looked at it, as if there might be some answer there.

I sat down on Conrad’s bed—navy sheets and navy comforter. It was unmade. Conrad always made his bed at the summer house. Hotel corners and everything.

So this was where he’d been living. This was his life now.

He didn’t have a lot of things in his dorm room. No TV, no stereo, no pictures hanging up. Certainly none of me, but none even of Susannah or his dad. Just his computer, his clothes, some shoes, books.

“I was actually about to take off, dudes. Going to my parents’ country house. Will you guys just make sure the door is closed when you leave? And when you find C, tell him he owes me twenty bucks for the pizza.”

“No worries, man. I’ll tell him.” I could tell Jeremiah didn’t like Eric, the way his lips almost but didn’t quite form a smile when he said it. He sat down at Conrad’s desk, surveying the room.

Someone knocked on the door and Eric ambled over to open it. It was a girl, wearing a long-sleeved shirt and leggings and sunglasses on the top of her head. “Have you seen my sweater?” she asked him. She peered around him like she was looking for something. Someone.

Did they date, I wondered? That was my first thought. My second thought was, I’m prettier than her . I was ashamed of myself for thinking it, but I couldn’t help it. The truth was, it didn’t matter who was prettier, her or me. He didn’t want me anyway.

Jeremiah jumped up. “Are you a friend of Con’s? Do you know where he went?”

She eyed us curiously. I could tell she thought Jeremiah was cute, the way she tucked her hair behind her ears and took her sunglasses off. “Um, yeah. Hi. I’m Sophie. Who are you?”

“His brother.” Jeremiah walked over and shook her hand. Even though he was stressed out, he took the time to check her out and give her one of his trademark smiles, which she lapped right up.

“Oh, wow. You guys don’t even look alike?” Sophie was one of those people who ended her sentences with a question mark. I could already tell that if I knew her, I would hate her.

“Yeah, we get that a lot,” Jeremiah said. “Did Con say anything to you, Sophie?”

She liked the way he called her by her name. She said, “I think he said he was going to the beach, to surf or something? He’s so crazy.”

Jeremiah looked at me. The beach. He was at the summer house.

When Jeremiah called his dad, I sat on the edge of Conrad’s bed and pretended not to listen. He told Mr. Fisher that everything was fine, that Conrad was safe in Cousins. He did not mention that I was with him.

He said, “Dad, I’ll go get him, it’s no big deal.”

Mr. Fisher said something on his end, and Jeremiah said, “But Dad—” Then he looked over at me, and mouthed, Be right back.

He headed into the hallway and shut the door behind him.

After he was gone, I lay back onto Conrad’s bed and stared up at the ceiling. So this was where he slept every night. I’d known him all my life, but in some ways, he was still a mystery to me. A puzzle.

I got out of bed and went over to his desk. Gingerly, I opened the drawer and found a box of pens, some books, paper. Conrad was always careful with his things. I told myself I wasn’t spying . I was looking for proof. I was Belly Conklin, Girl Detective.

I found it in the second drawer. A robin’s egg blue Tiffany box stuffed way in the back. Even as I was opening it I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t help myself. It was a little jewelry box, and there was a necklace inside, a pendant. I pulled it out and let it dangle. At first I thought it was a figure eight, and that maybe he was dating some girl who ice skated—and I decided I hated her, too. And then I took a closer look, and laid it horizontal in the palm of my hand. It wasn’t an eight.

It was infinity.

Which was when I knew. It wasn’t for some girl who ice skated or for Sophie down the hall. It was for me. He’d bought it for me. Here was my proof. Proof that he really did care.

Conrad was good at math. Well, he was good at everything, but he was really good at math.

A few weeks after we started talking on the phone, when it had become more routine but no less thrilling, I told him all about how much I hated trig and how badly I was doing in it already. Right away I felt guilty for bringing it up—there I was complaining about math when Susannah had cancer. My problems were so petty and juvenile, so high school compared to what Conrad was going through.

“Sorry,” I’d said.

“For what?”

“For talking about my crappy trig grade when . . .” My voice trailed off. “When your mom’s sick.”

“Don’t apologize. You can say whatever you want to me.” He paused. “And Belly, my mom is getting better. She put on five pounds this month.”

The hopefulness in his voice, it made me feel so tender toward him I could have cried. I said, “Yeah, I heard that from my mom yesterday. That’s really good news.”

“So, okay then. So has your teacher taught you SOH-CAH-TOA yet?”

From then on, Conrad started helping me, all over the phone. At first I didn’t really pay attention, I just liked listening to his voice, listening to him explain things. But then he’d quiz me, and I hated to disappoint him. So began our tutoring sessions. The way my mother smirked at me when the phone rang at night, I knew she thought we were having some kind of romance, and I didn’t correct her. It was easier that way. And it made me feel good, people thinking we were a couple. I’ll admit it. I let them think it. I wanted them to. I knew that it wasn’t true, not yet, but it felt like it could be. One day. In the meantime, I had my own private math tutor and I really was starting to get the hang of trig. Conrad had a way of making impossible things make sense, and I never loved him more than during those school nights he spent with me on the phone, going over the same problems over and over, until finally, I understood too.

Jeremiah came back into the room, and I closed my fist around the necklace before he could see it.

“So what’s up?” I asked him. “Is your dad mad? What did he say?”

“He wanted to go to Cousins himself, but I told him I’d do it. There’s no way Conrad would listen to my dad right now. If my dad came, it would only piss him off more.” Jeremiah sat down on the bed. “So I guess we’re going to Cousins this summer after all.”

As soon as he said it, it became real. In my head, I mean. Seeing Conrad wasn’t some faraway pretend thing; it was happening. Just like that I forgot all about my plans to save Conrad and I blurted out, “Maybe you should just drop me off on the way.”

Jeremiah stared at me. “Are you serious? I can’t deal with this by myself. You don’t know how bad it’s been. Ever since my mom got sick again, Conrad’s been in freaking self-destruct mode. He doesn’t give a shit about anything.” Jeremiah stopped talking and then said, “But I know he still cares what you think about him.”

I licked my lips; they felt very dry all of a sudden. “I’m not so sure about that.”

“Well, I am. I know my brother. Will you please just come with me?”

When I thought about the last thing I’d said to Conrad, shame took over and it burned me up inside. You don’t say those kinds of things to a person whose mother just died. You just don’t. How could I face him? I just couldn’t.

Then Jeremiah said, “I’ll get you back in time for your boat party, if that’s what you’re so worried about.”

It was such an un-Jeremiah-like thing to say that it took me right out of my shame spiral and I glared at him. “You think I care about a stupid Fourth of July boat party?”

He gave me a look. “You do love fireworks.”

“Shut up,” I said, and he grinned. “All right,” I said. “You win. I’ll come.”

“All right, then.” He stood up. “I’m gonna go take a leak before we go. Oh, and Belly?”

“Yeah?”

Jeremiah smirked at me. “I knew you were gonna give in. You never had a chance.”

I threw a pillow at him and he dodged it and did a little victory lap to the door. “Hurry up and pee, you jerk.”

When he was gone, I put the necklace on, underneath my tank top. It had left a little infinity indentation in my hand, I’d been holding on to it so hard.

Why did I do it? Why did I put it on? Why didn’t I just put it in my pocket, or leave it in the box? I can’t even explain it. All I knew was, I just really, really wanted to wear it. It felt like it belonged to me.

chapter fifteen

Before we headed down to the car I grabbed Conrad’s textbooks and notebooks and his laptop and stuffed as much as I could into the North Face backpack I’d found in his closet. “This way he’ll be able to study for those midterms on Monday,” I said, handing Jeremiah the laptop.

He winked and said, “I like the way you think, Belly Conklin.”

On the way out, we stopped by Ari the RA’s room. His door was open and he was sitting at his desk. Jeremiah popped his head in and said, “Hey, Ari. I’m Conrad’s brother, Jeremiah. We found Conrad. Thanks for the heads-up, man.”

Ari beamed at him. “No problem.” Jeremiah made friends wherever he went. Everyone wanted to be Jeremiah Fisher’s friend.

Then we were on our way. Headed straight to Cousins, full stop. We drove with the windows down, the radio up.

We didn’t talk much, but this time I didn’t mind. I think we were both too busy thinking. Me, I was thinking about the last time I headed down this road. Only, it hadn’t been with Jeremiah. It had been with Conrad.

chapter sixteen

It was, without a doubt, one of the best nights of my life. Right up there with New Year’s Eve at Disney World. My parents were still married and I was nine. We watched fireworks rocket right over Cinderella’s palace, and Steven didn’t even complain.

When he called, I didn’t recognize his voice, partly because I wasn’t expecting it and partly because I was still half-asleep. He said, “I’m in my car on my way to your house. Can I see you?”

It was twelve thirty in the morning. Boston was five and a half hours away. He had driven all night. He wanted to see me.

I told him to park down the street and I would meet him on the corner, after my mother had gone to bed. He said he’d wait.

I turned the lights off and waited by the window, watching for the taillights. As soon as I saw his car, I wanted to run outside, but I had to wait. I could hear my mother rustling around in her room, and I knew she would read in bed for at least half an hour before she fell asleep. It felt like torture, knowing he was out there waiting for me, not being able to go to him. It was a crazy idea, because it was winter, and it would be freezing cold in Cousins. But when he suggested it, it felt crazy in a good way.

In the dark I put on my scarf and hat that Granna knit me for Christmas. Then I shut my bedroom door and tiptoed down the hallway to my mother’s room, pressing my ear against the door. The light was off and I could hear her snoring softly. Steven wasn’t even home yet, which was lucky for me, because he’s a light sleeper just like our dad.

My mother was finally asleep; the house was still and silent. Our Christmas tree was still up. We kept the lights on all night because it made it still feel like Christmas, like any minute, Santa could show up with gifts. I didn’t bother leaving her a note. I would call her in the morning, when she woke up and wondered where I was.

I crept down the stairs, careful on the creaky step in the middle, but once I was out of the house, I flew down the front steps, across the frosty lawn. It crunched along the bottoms of my sneakers. I forgot to put on my coat. I remembered the scarf and hat, but no coat.

His car was on the corner, right where it was supposed to be. The car was dark, no lights, and I opened the passenger side door like I’d done it a million times before.

I poked my head inside, but I didn’t go in, not yet. I wanted to look at him first. It was winter, and he was wearing a gray fleece. His cheeks were pink from the cold, his tan had faded, but he still looked the same. “Hey,” I said, and then I climbed inside.

“You’re not wearing a coat,” he said.

“It’s not that cold,” I said, even though it was, even though I was shivering as I said it.

“Here,” he said, shrugging out of his fleece and handing it to me.

I put it on. It was warm, and it didn’t smell like cigarettes. It just smelled like him. So Conrad quit smoking after all. The thought made me smile.

He started the engine.

I said, “I can’t believe you’re really here.”

He sounded almost shy when he said, “Me neither.” And then he hesitated. “Are you still coming with me?”

I couldn’t believe he even had to ask. I would go anywhere. “Yes,” I told him. It felt like nothing else existed outside of that word, that moment. There was just us. Everything that had happened that summer, and every summer before it, had all led up to this. To now.

Sitting next to him in the passenger seat felt like an impossible gift. It felt like the best Christmas gift of my life. Because he was smiling at me, and he wasn’t somber, or solemn, or sad, or any of the other s -words I had come to associate with Conrad. He was light, he was ebullient, he was all the best parts of himself.

“I think I’m going to be a doctor,” he told me, looking at me sideways.

“Really? Wow.”

“Medicine is pretty amazing. For a while, I thought I would want to go into the research end of it, but now I think I’d rather be working with actual people.”

I hesitated, and then said, “Because of your mom?”

He nodded. “She’s getting better, you know. Medicine is making that possible. She’s responding really well to her new treatment. Did your mom tell you?”

“Yeah, she did,” I said. Even though she had done no such thing. She probably just didn’t want to get my hopes up. She probably didn’t want to get her own hopes up. My mother was like that. She didn’t allow herself to get excited until she knew it was a sure thing. Not me. Already I felt lighter, happier. Susannah was getting better. I was with Conrad. Everything was happening the way it was supposed to.

I leaned over and squeezed his arm. “It’s the best news ever,” I said, and I meant it.

He smiled at me, and it was written all over his face: hope.

When we got to the house, it was freezing cold. We cranked the heat up and Conrad started a fire. I watched him squat and tear up pieces of paper and poke at the log gently. I bet he’d been gentle with his dog, Boogie. I bet he used to let Boogie sleep in the bed with him. The thought of beds and sleep suddenly made me nervous. But I shouldn’t have been, because after he lit the fire, Conrad sat on the La-Z-Boy and not on the couch next to me. The thought suddenly occurred to me: He was nervous too. Conrad, who was never nervous. Never.

“Why are you sitting all the way over there?” I asked him, and I could hear my heart pounding behind my ears. I couldn’t believe I’d been brave enough to actually say what I was thinking.

Conrad looked surprised too, and he came over and sat next to me. I inched closer to him. I wanted him to put his arms around me. I wanted to do all the things I’d only seen on TV and heard Taylor talk about. Well, maybe not all, but some.

In a low voice, Conrad said, “I don’t want you to be scared.”

I whispered, “I’m not,” even though I was. Not scared of him, but scared of everything I felt. Sometimes it was too much. What I felt for him was bigger than the world, than anything.

“Good,” he breathed, and then he was kissing me.

He kissed me long and slow and even though we’d kissed once before, I never thought it could be like this. He took his time; he ran his hand along the bottom of my hair, the way you do when you walk past hanging wind chimes.

Kissing him, being with him like that . . . it was cool lemonade with a long straw, sweet and measured and pleasurable in a way that felt infinite. The thought crossed my mind that I never wanted him to stop kissing me. I could do this forever , I thought.

We kissed on the couch like that for what could have been hours or minutes. All we did that night was kiss. He was careful, the way he touched me, like I was a Christmas ornament he was afraid of breaking.

Once, he whispered, “Are you okay?”

Once, I put my hand up to his chest and I could feel his heart beating as fast as mine. I snuck a peek at him, and for some reason, it delighted me to see his eyes closed. His lashes were longer than mine.

He fell asleep first. I’d heard something about how you weren’t supposed to sleep with a fire still burning, so I waited for it to die down. I watched Conrad sleep for a while. He looked like a little boy, the way his hair fell on his forehead and his eyelashes hit his cheek. I didn’t remember him ever looking that young. When I was sure he was asleep, I leaned in, I whispered, “Conrad. There’s only you. For me, there’s only ever been you.”

My mother freaked out when I wasn’t home that morning. I missed two calls from her because I was asleep. When she called the third time, furious, I said, “Didn’t you get my note?”

Then I remembered I hadn’t left one.

She practically growled. “No, I did not see any note. Don’t you ever leave in the middle of the night without telling me again, Belly.”

“Even if I’m just going for a midnight stroll?” I joked. Me making my mother laugh was a sure thing. I would tell a joke and her anger would evaporate away. I started to sing her favorite Patsy Cline song. “I go out walkin’, after midnight, out in the moonlight—”

“Not funny. Where are you?” Her voice was tight, clipped.

I hesitated. There was nothing my mother hated worse than a liar. She’d find out anyway. She was like a psychic. “Um. Cousins?”

I heard her take a breath. “With who?”

I looked over at him. He was listening intently. I wished he wasn’t. “Conrad,” I said, lowering my voice.

Her reaction surprised me. I heard her breathe again, but this time it was a little sigh, like a sigh of relief. “You’re with Conrad?”

“Yes.”

“How is he?” It was a strange question, what with her in the middle of being mad at me.

I smiled at him and fanned my face like I was relieved. He winked at me. “Great,” I said, relaxing.

“Good. Good,” she said, but it was like she was talking to herself. “Belly, I want you home tonight. Are we clear?”

“Yes,” I said. I was grateful. I thought she’d demand that we leave right away.

“Tell Conrad to drive carefully.” She paused. “And Belly?”

“Yes, Laurel?” She always smiled when I called her by her first name.

“Have fun. This will be your last fun day for a long, long time.”

I groaned. “Am I grounded?” Being grounded was a novelty; my mother had never grounded me before, but I guess I had never given her a reason to.

“That is a very stupid question.”

Now that she wasn’t mad anymore, I couldn’t resist. “I thought you said there were no stupid questions?”

She hung up the phone. But I knew I had made her smile.

I closed my phone and faced Conrad. “What do we do now?”

“Whatever we want.”

“I want to go on the beach.”

So that’s what we did. We got bundled up and we ran on the beach in rain boots we found in the mud room. I wore Susannah’s, and they were two sizes too big, and I kept slipping in the sand. I fell on my butt twice. I was laughing the whole time, but I could barely hear it because the wind was howling so loud. When we came back inside, I put my freezing hands on his cheeks and instead of pushing them away, he said, “Ahh, feels good.”

I laughed and said, “That’s because you’re coldhearted.”

He put my hands in his coat pockets and said in a voice so soft I wondered if I heard him right, “For everyone else, maybe. But not for you.” He didn’t look at me when he said it, which is how I knew he meant it.

I didn’t know what to say, so instead, I got on my tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. It was cold and smooth against my lips.

Conrad smiled briefly and then started walking away. “Are you cold?” he asked, his back to me.

“Sort of,” I said. I was blushing.

“I’ll build another fire,” he said.

While he worked on the fire, I found an old box of Swiss Miss hot chocolate in the pantry, next to the Twinings teas and my mother’s Chock full o’Nuts coffee. Susannah used to make us hot chocolate on rainy nights, when there was a chill in the air. She used milk, but of course there wasn’t any, so I used water.

As I sat on the couch and stirred my cup, watching the mini marshmallows disintegrate, I could feel my heart beating, like, a million times a minute. When I was with him, I couldn’t seem to catch my breath.

Conrad didn’t stop moving around. He was ripping up pieces of paper, he was poking at the embers, he was squatting in front of the fireplace, shifting his weight back and forth.

“Do you want your cocoa?” I asked him.

He looked back at me. “Okay, sure.”

He sat next to me on the couch and drank from the Simpsons mug. It had always been his favorite. “This tastes—”

“Amazing?”

“Dusty.”

We looked at each other and laughed. “For your information, cocoa is my specialty. And you’re welcome,” I said, taking my first sip. It did taste a little dusty.

He peered at me and tipped my face up. Then he reached out and rubbed my cheek with his thumb like he was wiping away soot. “Do I have cocoa powder on my face?” I asked, suddenly paranoid.

“No,” he said. “Just some dirt—oops, I mean, freckles.”

I laughed and slapped him on the arm, and then he grabbed my hand and pulled me closer to him. He pushed my hair out of my eyes, and I worried he could hear the way I drew my breath in when he touched me.

It was getting darker and darker outside. Conrad sighed and said, “I’d better get you back.”

I looked down at my watch. It was five o’clock. “Yeah . . . I guess we’d better go.”

Neither of us moved. He reached out and wound my hair around his fingers like a spool of yarn. “I love how soft your hair is,” he said.

“Thanks,” I whispered. I’d never thought of my hair as anything special. It was just hair. And it was brown, and brown wasn’t as special as blond or black or red. But the way he looked at it . . . at me. Like it held some kind of fascination for him, like he would never get tired of touching it.

We kissed again, but it was different than the night before. There was nothing slow or lazy about it. The way he looked at me—urgent, wanting me, needing me . . . it was like a drug. It was want-want-want. But it was me who was doing the wanting most of all.

When I pulled him closer, when I put my hands underneath his shirt and up his back, he shivered for a second. “Are my hands too cold?” I asked.

“No,” he said. Then he let go of me and sat up. His face was sort of red and his hair was sticking up in the back. He said, “I don’t want to rush anything.”

I sat up too. “But I thought you already—” I didn’t know how to finish the sentence. This was so embarrassing. I’d never done this before.

Conrad turned even redder. He said, “Yeah, I mean, I have. But you haven’t.”

“Oh,” I said, looking down at my sock. Then I looked up. “How do you know I haven’t?”

Now he looked red as a beet and he stuttered, “I just thought you hadn’t—I mean, I just assumed—”