Текст книги "Fusion"

Автор книги: Tessa Teevan

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

1998

NEITHER ONE OF US made an effort to walk inside the expansive brick building before us. Students were milling about, chattering with their friends, even though most of them had spent the summer together on the beach. A buzz of both excitement and discontent filled the air. Excitement of a new school year; discontent for the same reason. Most of us were still in beach mode. Still, nerves attacked my belly. This was finally it.

High school.

Jeremy shoulder-checked me, nearly knocking me off-balance. I gave him a mock scowl, but he laughed as he brushed the messy hair out of his eyes. I reached over and did it for him, my fingers not missing how soft it felt beneath my fingertips. I swallowed hard and tried to forget that thought. Over the summer, I’d started noticing Jeremy in a different light, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. He’d gone through a growth spurt and decided he wanted to make the football team, so he’d trained hard. In just a few months’ time, he had gone from my tall, lanky, goofy best friend to a taller, muscular, hot guy.

Hot.

I’d actually referred to Jeremy Banks as hot. The guy with whom I’d made many a spit pacts and spent hours pretending we were characters from The Mighty Ducks. I wasn’t sure how to process the way he’d begun giving me butterflies. The way I studied his features and wondered how his lips would feel pressed against mine. Would I be able to tell that his lower lip was much fuller than the top one, or would it even matter? Would his eyes light up as we kissed, or would he close them, savoring the taste of me? Would his large hands fist my hair with passion, or would he hold my hips firmly in place?

He snapped his finger in front of my face, breaking my trance. My cheeks heated as I hoped he hadn’t caught me ogling him. That’s just what I needed—him reading my thoughts and running screaming in the opposite direction. When my eyes reached his, he was watching me with concern.

“You ready for this, Tod?” he asked, not acting the least bit weirded out. It was more like he was worried I wasn’t ready.

That was Jeremy. So freaking sweet.

I let out a sigh of relief even though I was still reeling from the visions I’d had of Jeremy kissing me. Like that’d ever happen.

“Tod? Hello?” he repeated, eliciting a sheepish grin from me.

Get it together, Sierra.

A comfortable wave of contentment poured out of Jeremy and flowed over me. For a moment, I was transported back six years to the first day of third grade. It had been my first time ever in a new school, and I’d been so nervous. Jeremy had held my hand (not literally—GROSS. Or, at least, it would’ve been at the time) every step of the way, putting me at ease. And, now, he was doing the same thing, even if he didn’t realize it. I peeked back up at him and found his copper eyes dancing playfully yet still watching me with traces of concern.

“I think so,” I told him as I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, feeling a little self-conscious because of the older girls coming from the student parking lot. I waited for Jeremy’s eyes to roam as he checked them out, but they never left mine. “I’m just really glad our schedules match.”

He gave me his signature goofy grin, and my stomach did a flip-flop.

God, what was wrong with me? This was Jeremy. Simply Jeremy.

Who was I kidding? He’d never been just Jeremy to me, but still… I wasn’t a fan of how my view of him was changing.

He grinned and leaned in close to press a sweet kiss to my temple. I thought he lingered a little longer than usual, but when he pulled back, I figured that was wishful thinking. It was just brotherly, something he’d started doing in the sixth grade when Ryan Harper had tried asking me to be his girlfriend. Jeremy had marked his territory with that kiss, and while, at the time, I’d been grateful, no boy had asked me out since because they all thought I belonged to Jeremy.

Hell, I had even started to believe it.

“Sullivan, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Because…” He raised an eyebrow at me expectantly.

I smiled and leaned up on my tiptoes to place a feathery kiss on his cheek. “Where you go, I go.”

His smile widened, and his eyes searched mine. Then his lips parted slightly as he rubbed a thumb over my bottom one. My nerves fluttered because… Oh my God. Jeremy was about to kiss me.

“Always, Tod,” he whispered as his head descended.

Was this it?

No. It couldn’t be.

And then his head dipped lower. Lower. Lowering still…

Oh. My. God.

This was it.

The moment I’d been waiting six years for. The moment I hadn’t known I wanted but suddenly couldn’t happen soon enough.

“Always, Copper,” I breathed as my eyes fluttered closed and I waited to experience his lips for the very first time.

“Eww. Eww. PDA! Make it stop!”

My eyes snapped open in time to see Jeremy jump back from me at the sound of Chris’s teasing voice. His dimples were showcased when he tossed me a sheepish grin. It only lasted for a split second before rolling his eyes at our now former best friend. (He never actually knew it, but I was mad at Chris for months after that.) The moment was officially broken—my heart right along with it.

Jeremy slapped a playful arm around my shoulders and squeezed. It was like a bro hug, and my heart sank at the immediate change in his demeanor. One thing was blatantly obvious: I was back in the friend zone. Hell, I’d never actually left. It had been wishful thinking, but even then, I burrowed myself into his chest, savoring that hug for as long as I could, even if it was strictly platonic.

Over the course of the next year, I’d really come to hate those bro hugs.

“Shut it, Chris. You know Sullivan and I are just best friends,” he quipped, seemingly unaffected by our near kiss.

Cue the inner sigh. I was back to Sullivan. Jeremy always pulled that out when talking about our friendship. As if calling me Sierra made me more feminine or something.

Right. Best friends.

I so needed to remember that.

Holy crap.

Holy crap.

Holy crap.

The thought ran through my mind in super-quick succession as if my brain had suddenly turned into a broken record.

Holy freaking crap.

That was a close one.

I could have killed Chris.

I could have also thanked him.

I’d been on the verge of kissing Sierra, and I wasn’t ready for that.

Was I?

Don’t get me wrong. As Sierra’s breath had hitched, my eyes had locked with hers and all I could think about was placing my lips on hers. I didn’t want forehead or cheek kisses anymore. I wanted her supple lips against mine. I wanted to know if her favorite cherry ChapStick really made her lips as soft as the slender tube claimed. I wanted my tongue to experience the taste of hers after years of her sticking it out at me whenever I’d irritated her. I wanted to wrap my arms around Sierra’s waist, pull her in close, and kiss the hell out of her, blowing any movie kiss out of the water until we got detention for our public displays of affection.

And, suddenly, I wanted that detention more than I wanted anything else in the world.

So yeah, I could kill Chris.

But, now that I was coming back to my senses, it was clear Chris had done me a favor by interrupting a moment that would’ve fundamentally changed everything between Sierra and me. I wasn’t ready. I hated that, but it was the truth. High school was going to bring about so many changes, and the last thing I wanted was to do something to ruin my friendship with Sierra. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t act on my impulses until I knew what the hell I really wanted. I wasn’t quite ready to take that leap.

But fucking hell. I wished I were.

AFTER OUR NEAR KISS—I was still calling it that—things were seemingly normal with Jeremy and me. I spent too many hours analyzing every second of that interaction, and every time, I came up with a different conclusion. He’d been going to kiss me. He hadn’t been going to kiss me. I’d been reading it wrong. I’d been reading it right. I exhausted myself trying to figure out what it all meant.

Even if it had truly been a near kiss, Chris’s interruption had put a stop to it. The way Jeremy had jumped away from me as if I’d had the plague still haunted me. In that one move, he’d made it clear it hadn’t meant anything, and that was my final determination. I was convinced that the whole thing was in my head, some sort of wishful thinking.

And let me tell you, that sucked. Big time.

At the end of the day, however, I’d rather not have played tonsil hockey with my best friend if he wasn’t attracted to me. That would’ve been a nightmare. Instead, I brushed my confused feelings aside and settled into my daily routine as a new freshman at Navarre High School. I walked the halls with my shoulders squared and my head held high, and from time to time, I checked out the upperclassmen.

I never admitted it to Jenna, but even the cutest guy in school didn’t hold a candle to Jeremy. The only thing that would help get my mind off his messy brown hair, his infectious smile, and his cute dimples was distance. Unfortunately, I wasn’t getting that, nor did I want it. So I spent day in and day out trying to squelch my attraction to him only to have it grow every single time he flashed his gorgeous smile. It wasn’t easy, but I was clearly a glutton for punishment, because as much as we could be, we were attached at the hip, and when we weren’t together, I wished we were.

Cue the inner sighs.

If I’d been afraid that things would change when we went to high school, I shouldn’t have been. We had every class together and spent what time we could doing homework. It wasn’t much, actually, with his football practices taking up most of his afternoons.

Actually, things had changed, just not in the way I’d thought. Our time together had exponentially decreased since we’d started school. He was either on the football field or lifting weights in the field house after school, and I was left sighing at the dining room table, doing my schoolwork on my own. It was too quiet, too lonely, and I was miserable staring out the window at his house, just waiting for him to get home.

It was probably pathetic, but he’d been my partner in crime for six years. I’d come to rely on Jeremy far too much, and I didn’t know what to do with myself when he wasn’t around.

Pretty freaking lame, right?

After a week of moping around, I was starting to annoy myself—as well as my family. Mom suggested I add an extracurricular activity to my schedule, so I decided to try out for the cheerleading squad. It made perfect sense to me, and I didn’t know why I hadn’t thought about it myself. Why wouldn’t I want to be on the sidelines, cheering Jeremy on? Not to mention I’d have front-row seats to him in those super-tight football pants. It seemed like a win-win to me.

I hadn’t told Jeremy that I was trying out because I was nervous and didn’t want him to be disappointed if I didn’t make it. Failure wasn’t something I was used to, and I didn’t want to be pitied if I wasn’t on the list of names at the end of the week. So that’s why he was my first stop after the results were posted. It’d been nearly a week since we’d been able to hang out for more than an hour after school, and I missed him. I couldn’t wait to see him, and as I opened his front door and raced down the hall, nervous butterflies swirled in my stomach.

“I made it!” I shouted, throwing his door open and barreling into his room. In my haste, I almost missed the fact that Jeremy’s shorts were pushed down, his penis was out and on full display, and he was stroking it.

I almost missed it.

My feet immediately stopped moving as I stared at him lying on the bed…pleasuring himself.

Oh. My. God.

There it was. His penis in all its brilliant glory. His large hand was gripping it tight, moving up and down in a long, quick pulls.

Up.

Down.

Up.

Down.

I wondered for a quick second if he wasn’t doing it too fast, but then a grimace formed on his face and he emitted a low moan. His eyes were closed tight as he moved his fist faster, faster, faster.

Clarence Carter’s “Strokin’” came to mind, and I slapped my hand over my mouth as my eyes widened. I knew I should look away, but I couldn’t. It was like his penis was a magnet and my eyes were the metal. I was transfixed. I was mesmerized. I was drawn to watching this act, one I’d never seen before. Hell, I’d never even seen a penis before. And, suddenly, my interest level skyrocketed.

I took a step farther into the room, wanting to get a good look. Unfortunately, I didn’t notice the gym bag in the doorway until I was tripping over it.

“SIERRA!”

Jeremy’s frantic shriek snapped me out of my trance, just as his…stroking was coming to fruition. Apparently, in his…umm…throes of ecstasy, it’d taken a moment to register that I was there. Not that it deterred him from what he was doing.

He apparently couldn’t stop himself, and I couldn’t stop watching.

Oh. My. God.

I mean, I’d heard about this in health class, and Ryan—the self-proclaimed class perv—joked about jacking off all the time, but actually seeing it in person was fascinating.

It wasn’t quite like I’d imagined. To me, I’d always had this picture of Old Faithful erupting and shooting straight up out of the tip, gushing and drenching everything in its path. But this wasn’t like that. It didn’t shoot fast, but it also wasn’t a dribble. It was a couple of quick spirts and penis twitches. The white substance appeared thicker than I’d thought it would. It was weird to think that millions of tiny sperm were swimming in that little bit of…stuff.

Once again, I wanted a closer look, so I took another step into the room.

And then Jeremy shouted my name again.

I stopped in my tracks after I’d realized what I’d done. My eyes—sadly—left his now deflating member and whipped up to his face, where I was greeted with a contorted, conflicted mask of pleasure and mortification. That’s when the reality that I’d just seen Jeremy get off finally set in. And I…

I wanted to watch again.

Mortified couldn’t even begin to describe what I was feeling at that moment. God, had I really just stood in the doorway and watched while he’d done that? I shook my head and blinked a couple of times, hoping to wake up.

No such luck.

I wasn’t in a dream. I wasn’t in some alternate reality. I was still in Jeremy’s bedroom. I had just walked in on my best friend jacking off, and instead of quietly closing the door and coming back later, I’d watched.

And I’d liked it.

My cheeks flamed at the thought. A fluttering took hold in my belly, and I had the sudden urge to squeeze my thighs together, wanting to relieve some of the unexpected tingling that’d snuck up on me.

Holy hell. I was turned on.

“Sierra,” he repeated. This time, it wasn’t a scream. It was a panted plea.

But what was the plea? Did he want me to come closer? Or put as much distance between us as possible? Part of me wanted to meet him on the bed, where I could explore his body. The other part of me knew I had to get out of there.

So I turned and ran out of his room like a bat out of Hell was chasing me.

His dad called out a greeting from the living room, but I was too freaked out to respond. In fact, I scurried out the front door, down the steps, and past my own house. I didn’t stop running until I’d made it to the gazebo overlooking the water. Bending over as my side cramped, I sucked in deep breaths and tried to get the vision of Jeremy’s man parts out of my brain.

But I was failing. It was all I could see. It wasn’t even just the sight of his penis that turned me on. It was watching him in the act. The performance I’d just witnessed? It was incredible. Now, I was breathless for another reason.

I wanted to go back and observe repeatedly, this time with a close up view. Perhaps with some audience participation.

The thought caused my cheeks to flush. With heat or embarrassment, I wasn’t actually sure. But the truth was I was both aroused and mortified.

I wanted to move far away and never see his face again.

It was confliction at its finest.

I had no idea how long I stared out at the water, replaying the scenario over and over and over. It could’ve been hours. It could’ve been mere minutes. Either way, I still wasn’t ready to face him when he cleared his throat behind me. I didn’t know if I’d ever be. So I froze, sitting as still as a statue, acting as if he couldn’t see me. Waves of emotions poured over me. Humiliation. Avid curiosity. That damned arousal. A strange fear also set in, but later, I’d understand that as a primal urge.

“Sierra.” His soft voice called to me, almost sounding pained.

As much as I wanted to pretend I couldn’t hear him, the whisper of my name on his lips forced me to turn around. I took a deep breath and plastered a smile on my face when I saw that he was dressed. Then I shimmied my hips, figuring humor was the best way to deal with this…situation. The last thing I wanted was for things to be weird between us just because we’d finally gotten to the age where knocking was a must before bursting into each other’s rooms. And even more so, I didn’t want Jeremy to realize I was flustered from having seen him in that state. Or that I wanted a second peek.

He leaned against a wooden pole, watching me with cautious eyes. Even still, his eyes weren’t meeting mine. It was clear he didn’t know what to say. Neither did I, short of asking if I could see it again.

Then I knew exactly what to do to break the silence. A not-so-sexy rendition of “Strokin’” left my lips.

At first, he didn’t look amused, but once I started singing about the directions in which I’d stroke (or the ones in which I’d like to watch him stroke), his lips twitched and curved into a smile he couldn’t fight anymore. First to the east. Then to the west. I nearly faltered over the line of who I’d stroke it to. But somehow, I pushed through, even though a tingle started between my thighs at the thought of Jeremy stroking it to me. I knew better, but it didn’t make me want him any less.

“Ha. Ha. Very funny, Sullivan,” he grumbled, stalking towards me.

There it was again. Sullivan. It was the proverbial cold shower I’d needed to extinguish my arousal. At least, it was until he placed his hands on my hips to still my movements. The image of where those hands had just been ignited my desire and brought it to new heights.

“This is how it’s done.”

He released me from his hold and stepped back into the middle of the gazebo. As he broke out into a much better version of the song, I had a hard time containing my giggles. By the time he was done, I was doubled over, laughing harder than the situation warranted, but I couldn’t help myself. When I calmed down, I stood up straight, and he was watching me with his arms folded across his chest.

“If you’re done…and well, I saw you finish…” I paused as he blushed.

I’d never seen that look on his face before. It was adorable, yet as soon as I had that thought, I knew I’d never think of Jeremy Banks as adorable again. Not after what I’d seen. No, he was hot. He was…sexy.

He studied me carefully. I had a feeling he was shocked at how nonchalant I was about the whole thing. Hell, even I was surprised I wasn’t freaking out. I figured I’d have time for that later though, when I was home alone in my room. In private. Because stroking isn’t just for boys, you know.

Suddenly, I wanted to be back at my own place, doing my own thing. I had to get out of there.

“I’m tired. I think I’m going to call it a night,” I told him as I walked past him and started down the long, wooden walkway towards our neighborhood.

“Hey, Sierra?” he asked. All playfulness had disappeared, and the serious tone caused my nerve endings to tingle with anticipation.

I stopped and looked back at him. A silence hung in the air as we stared at each other.

“Yeah, Jer?”

“You know it’s natural, right? All guys do it,” he said a bit hesitantly.

Waving a hand as it if weren’t a big deal, I nodded. “Yeah, yeah. I know all about what boys do when they read Playboy or watch Baywatch or whatever turns you on.”

That was when I realized I wanted to be what turned him on. Could he ever think of me that way?

His eyes fell away from me as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. My heart fell a little because I’d probably just mentioned one of the things he’d used to help…move things along. Great. Just great. Now, I’d freak out any time he had a magazine in his hands.

“What about you?”

My eyes widened as he stared out at the surf, doing his best not to look at me. “What about me?” I asked.

His head turned, and his eyes were full of curiosity. I knew what was coming, and even though I could’ve stopped it by going ahead and answering his unasked question, I didn’t. I wanted to hear it come from his lips. And I didn’t have to wait long.

“Do you…masturbate?”

My mouth dropped open in shock at the fact that he had actually been able to get the word out without giggling like a schoolboy like he and Chris used to do when anything remotely sexual came up. Wow. Things really had changed.

“What?!” I gasped even though I had known it was coming. I hadn’t actually thought he’d say the word out loud. As if I’d ever answer that question. Not for him.

“You know…click the mouse. Rub the love button.”

“That’s none of your business!” I shrieked, horrified that he’d turned this around on me.

A slow, satisfied grin settled on his face as a dreamy expression took over. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

I crossed the gazebo and shoved his shoulder. “Whatever. That is not what I said.”

He grasped my arm and pulled me in close. His lips hovered just above my ear, his warm breath causing me to shiver. If I turned my head, our lips would brush. Chris wasn’t there to interrupt this time, and it felt like the perfect moment. I was trying to muster up the courage to do just that when his deep voice filled my ear.

“Exactly, Sierra. It’s what you didn’t say. And, now, I have the perfect visual the next time I’m strokin’.”

His voice was sexy, seductive, and it sent a shot of pleasure straight between my legs. For the first time in my life, I was positive I was turned on, and all I wanted to do was touch myself.

I apologize, Divinyls, for all those years I made fun of your song.

Because, from that moment on, whenever I thought about Jeremy Banks, I wanted to touch myself.

My eyes widened as my cheeks flamed. I’d never had masturbatory thoughts before. Despite the cool breeze coming off the water, I was on fire. My palms were sweaty, clammy, and I had the urge to clench my thighs together. At the time, I had no idea what was happening, but I wanted friction down there, and I wanted it immediately.

He apparently missed the way I’d gone silent. He definitely missed the way I was biting my lip and staring at him as if he were the juiciest steak and I was a starving bodybuilder. Instead of reading my body language—and thank goodness for that—he just laughed and grabbed my hand, which I promptly pulled away. I’d never been more thankful that the annoying little Barrister kids down the street had broken the lightbulb in the gazebo or that the homeowners association hadn’t gotten around to replacing it yet. The moonlight was doing a great job of masking my first experience with arousal.

Strokin’. God, I’d never be able to hear that word—or that song—again and think of it the same way.

My heart was hammering, and I couldn’t get the damn image of him doing just that out of mind. He had the perfect visual? No way. I was pretty sure I did. Even more than that, I was pretty sure I’d just stepped aboard the Sexual Sierra Sullivan Express and I was ready for that ride. Not with Jeremy—hell no. It was way too soon for that—but with myself. Self-experimentation and all of that good stuff.

Not that he’d ever know that truth, no matter how many times he asked.

Shit. I needed to get away, and I needed to do it quickly. Hello, stage left. There’s my exit. End scene. Let’s start over tomorrow.

“Whatever, Banks. You can watch Dawson’s Creek alone tonight!” With that, I stormed off in the direction of my house.

I wasn’t actually mad—I just didn’t trust myself around him any longer that night.

His laughter seemed to echo all around me. Flashes of him lying on his bed played on repeat, and my legs moved faster, hoping to put enough distance between us.

“Or not at all! I hate that chick show anyway!” he called after me. “I’ll go home and watch Baywatch instead!”

I bristled at the thought. It was silly because he was just egging me on. Ever since Dawson’s Creek started earlier that year, we’d both been hooked. We’d watched every episode together, and even though he complained at times, I knew he secretly loved it.

And that was why I was not surprised in the least when, just two hours later, Jeremy knocked on my window.

See? We were already learning. Not that he’d have interrupted anything. That’s another story for another time. When? How about never? Let’s just say I finally took care of business.

So much for thinking time or distance would help stamp out my desire. As soon as he climbed through the window, my eyes went to his groin. I was disappointed that it was covered up.

Don’t get me wrong though. I wasn’t ready for sex with Jeremy—or anyone. I wasn’t ready for anything physical. But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t have minded another peek. Look, my curiosity had been piqued, and I wanted a closer glance. Even if it was just anatomical examination… Clinical… For research purposes. Yep, that’s what I told myself, trying not to feel like a perv for wanting to check out my best friend’s package.

I shook my head clear of the thought as he slid his shoes off and settled onto the bed beside me as he usually did. We assumed our positions—him sprawled out with his arm open wide, and me curling up beside him. He absentmindedly ran his fingers through my hair as I cuddled up against his warm chest. It’d always been innocent and friendly.

Until just then.

Nothing about our snuggling felt platonic, even if the whole feelings thing was completely one-sided. Ugh, I felt like I was in an old episode of bad television—the girl with unrequited feelings. Yep, that was me.

If Mom and Dad had any idea of how I was starting to feel about Jeremy, or what had transpired a couple of hours ago, we’d be ordered out of the bedroom, on separate couches, with Lexi between us and Dad glaring at Jeremy the entire time, waiting for him to make an inappropriate move. Don’t worry, Dad. Your little girl was safe. He’d never made a move, and I was pretty sure he never planned on it. I was the only predator in the bed that night, and instead of doing anything I wanted to, I fixated my eyes on the television as Joey and Dawson tried to figure out where to go with their relationship after an amazing—and unexpected—first kiss between best friends.

It was silly, but I was insanely jealous of that kiss. I wanted that kiss. However, I was never going to get that kiss, and boy, did that blow.

Like I said, my life was beginning to feel like a television show. Only I wasn’t Joey, and I wasn’t kissed senseless by the boy of my dreams. Thanks again, Chris. Jerk.

“What were you so excited about telling me earlier?” he asked during a commercial break.

In all the excitement, I’d completely forgotten about the whole reason I’d burst into his room. His own version of bursting had distracted me.

God, I had to stop thinking about it.

It took a moment for me to remember what had even happened earlier that afternoon. When I did, I sat up and beamed at him. He smiled at me, those freaking dimples deepening. I could’ve stared at those dimples all day. More than anything, I wanted to kiss them. Then his lips while my hands held his face, my thumbs pressing into those little indentations as I held his mouth to mine. Maybe if I just did it, with no one there to distract us, then I could blame the show. Just wanting to see what would happen if we did what they had done. I had just started to lean down when his voice stopped me.

“Sierra?” he prompted, pulling me out of my gaze.

Oh crap. That was a close one. I cleared my throat and clapped my hands.

“You’re looking at the newest Raiders cheerleader!” I informed him proudly.

His eyes went wide, lighting up at my words while the corners of his mouth turned up. “Seriously?” He lifted up and rested on his elbows, the excitement emanating from him.

It warmed my heart. Still, I told myself not to read too much into it. We did everything together. It made sense he’d be happy that we’d have this, too.

I nodded. His smile grew wider.

“Seriously,” I confirmed.

“So, you’ll be at all my games?” he asked, awe transforming his face. As if I wouldn’t have gone to them anyway.

“Every. Single. One.” I drew the words out for added emphasis.

Not that he’d needed it. He was already sitting up and gesticulating wildly with his hands, doing his own sort of silent cheer.

“You have no idea how happy this makes me, Sullivan. It’s freaking perfect. Me on the field, kicking ass and taking names. And you on the sidelines, cheering me on and wearing my number on your cheek.”

The truth was I did know. Because I felt the same way. But, instead of admitting it, I merely shrugged.

“You know the deal, Banks. Where you go, I go.”

“And don’t you ever forget it.”

I couldn’t if I’d tried.

I just hoped it wouldn’t bite me in the ass later on.

As a rule of thumb, I never got embarrassed. It was a blessing and a curse. A blessing because I did some pretty hilarious stuff. A curse because, half the time, I ended up grounded. But I was me, and embarrassment wasn’t in my genetic makeup. I’d tried blaming it on my parents once. You can guess how well that one went over. Here’s a clue: My punishment doubled. But even Dad hadn’t blamed me too harshly for trying. Mom, however, had not been amused.

There wasn’t a dare I wouldn’t accept. Well, aside from that one time Chris had dared me to moon Sierra while our moms were sitting beside her on the beach. I was a jokester, but I wasn’t stupid. But, when he’d bet me that I wouldn’t prank call our fifth-grade teacher looking for Jack Hoff, I’d picked up the landline right away. Fortunately, Mrs. Miller hadn’t had caller ID. Or she at least hadn’t cared enough to call back. I’d figured she was used to it, but that hadn’t stopped us from looking up random numbers in the phone book and telling stupid jokes to whomever answered.