Brendan nodded. “I get it. Look, Emma, I don’t really like a lot of the girls at school—even just as friends.”
“Well, we have that in common.” I grinned a toothy grin and he smiled back before his face got serious again.
“I wasn’t expecting you.” His words just hung there, but he kept those green eyes on me.
I don’t know if “uncomfortable silence” is the phrase I’d use for the wordless thirty seconds that passed, but then Brendan broke our unspoken moment.
“I
did wait for you outside of school,” Brendan softly reminded me. I nodded, smiling a little bit at the memory of how my stomach f luttered the two times I saw him lounging against the mailbox, clearly looking for me. The U.S. Postal Service should hire him for an ad campaign. If he were at the mailbox every time you sent a letter, no one would use email ever again.
“Did you mind?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. “I mean…I didn’t mind waiting for you.” I hoped I was reading the double meaning correctly.
“I didn’t mind. I liked seeing you.” Brendan started smiling his rakish grin back at me—then suddenly stopped.
“Then why won’t you tell me?” he demanded.
“Tell you what?” I knew I sounded exasperated, but what was it that he wanted to know so badly?
“Why won’t you tell me the truth? What’s your real story?” I couldn’t believe it, but Brendan actually sounded hurt. “You’re not from Philadelphia. You’re lying about everything. Whatever it is, you can tell me.” So the real story of my shattered home 9780373210305_TS.indd 167
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life is what he wanted me to tell him, on that first day when he met me outside of school. I felt myself getting defensive.
“This is the most you’ve talked to me in two weeks, do you realize that? I don’t even know where you’re from. Where you live. Who your parents are,” I spit out, my ripped-open wounds evident in my tone, much to my dismay. “At least I’m consistent with you. You treat me differently from one day to the next. You talk to me when no one’s looking, like you’re embarrassed to be associated with me or something. Maybe on Monday you’ll go back to treating me like the social leper the rest of the snobs at that school seem to think I am.” He cringed at that.
“I’m not going to do that, Emma.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it, Brendan,” I retorted, crossing my arms defiantly.
He reached over and grabbed my hand, pulling my defensive pose apart. “Emma, I promise you, I won’t ignore you like that again,” he said, holding my hand in both of his. “And you’re right. It’s not fair of me to expect you to tell me anything when you don’t really know me. You don’t owe me anything.
Especially after how I’ve been acting. Which, Emma, I really am sorry for.”
Brendan’s eyes searched mine as he slipped his fingers around my palm and pulled my hand up to his mouth, pressing his lips to the back of my hand. His kiss was featherlight, but I felt the imprint of his lips as they scorched my skin.
“And I promise you, I am not, in any way, embarrassed to be seen with you. I’m really, really sorry you think that.”
He dropped my hand from his mouth, but still kept a gentle hold on it, looking down at the way our fingers intertwined.
“I can’t believe I made you think that,” he whispered, more to himself than to me.
“Brendan—” I started, but he cut me off.
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“I want to make it right. So, I’ll make you a deal,” Brendan said, the confidence returning to his voice as his gaze met mine. “Let’s just enjoy dinner, and then I’ll walk you home, like a good boy. After you’ve had fun tonight, and after I’ve had fun tonight, I’ll ask you out properly. For tomorrow.
Come over to my place. My parents are out of town, we’ll have the place to ourselves.”
I cocked an eyebrow, causing Brendan to amend his statement. “Aw, come on, Emma, I don’t mean like that. We’ll just be able to spend some time together. And you can ask me anything you want. You’ll see where I live. You can even go through my stuff, rif le through my drawers and all that. Flip my mattress over, I don’t care. And you’ll say yes, like a good girl.”
“You’re pretty sure of yourself,” I observed, popping a piece of chicken into my mouth.
“How
so?”
“Well,” I said after I had swallowed, “you said, ‘ After you’ve had fun, and after I’ve had fun.’ You’re so sure I’m having fun and that I’ll agree to see you tomorrow,” I replied, trying to spear a piece of broccoli with my left hand, since my right was otherwise occupied. Brendan grinned at me and knocked my fork out of the way, stabbing the piece with his fork. I gave him a dirty look and he laughed.
“You’re having fun right now,” Brendan declared. “So, we’re not going to talk about your alma mater, Imagination High. And we’re definitely not going to talk about my behavior the past two weeks, so tell me this, at least. Yes or no question time. Are you really sixteen?”
I smiled at that one. “Yes.”
“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere,” he said, grinning.
“I’m seventeen. I started late.
“Is your name really Emma Connor?”
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“Yep.”
“Do you have any pets?” Brendan asked. I was aware that he was still holding my hand.
“I had a cat when I was little, but no pets now,” I said, leaving out the part where Henry wouldn’t allow pets.
“Ah, I had a dog,” Brendan said, shaking his head. “I’m a dog person, you’re a cat person. What am I doing with you?”
I matched his smile, while my internal monologue screamed that Brendan just said he was “with me.”
Brendan then let go of my hand, reaching out to my charm.
Oh, right. That.
“Where did you get this?” he asked, his voice low as he turned it over in his hands.
“My brother gave it to me.” I felt like I could tell him this truth, at least.
“Where did he get it?” Brendan’s eyes were still glued to the medallion.
“At a garage sale. He said he hoped it would bring me good luck.” I started to suspect that Brendan knew what the crest signified, but lost my train of thought as he dropped the charm and slowly slid his hand over my collarbone, up along my throat, and finally rested on the side of my jaw, where his thumb stroked my cheek.
“Emma,” he said, his voice barely a whisper, still cradling my face in his hand. “I hope your brother’s right.” Brendan’s face was as close as it had been the night of the Met, when I’d thought he’d kiss me. He searched my face with eyes that looked as deep and green as the pond shining below us.
Brendan dropped his hand into his lap, and seemed lost in his own thoughts for a moment. Then he cracked open a can of soda with a pop-and-fizz. Brendan broke the mood—again, I might add—so I took a swig of my iced tea, trying to not 9780373210305_TS.indd 170
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pick myself apart wondering what it was about me that made him so averse to kissing me.
“Is your brother back home in—” Brendan paused, cocking an eyebrow at me “—Philly?”
I shook my head, hoping Brendan would be satisfied with a minimum of information. I really didn’t want to go there at this moment.
“I los
t my brother a couple of years ago,” I murmured, not meeting his eyes.
“Oh, Emma. I had no idea,” Brendan said softly, reaching out to tenderly touch my cheek. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s—um, it’s fine. So, basketball,” I interrupted awkwardly.
“Has there been any fallout from the Anthony situation? At practice or anything?”
Brendan paused for a second, tilting his head as if he understood that I needed a change of subject—immediately. “Not really. I’m already suspended from the team—one more fight and I’m off—so he takes it out on me at practice, trying to trip me and get me to throw the first punch or whatever, but—” Brendan smirked at me “—I don’t really care. It gave me the opportunity to knock him into some folding chairs.
Accidentally, of course.” He smiled smugly.
“But of course,” I agreed, glad for the new direction of the conversation. “Thanks again, for the whole stopping-me-from-being-a-stain-on-the-concrete thing,” I said, looking back at that oh-so-fascinating crack in the rock.
“Stop thanking me. Besides, I doubt you’d go down without a fight,” Brendan said.
“Still, I’m sorry if I broke up your friendship.” To my surprise, Brendan laughed.
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ridiculous social circles. I’ve known him since grammar school, and let me tell you, it was my absolute pleasure to knock him to the ground. Only next time—” he paused “—when you plan on stepping up to guys twice your size, give me a heads-up.”
“I think I’m done street fighting for a bit,” I said and he smiled at me.
“Good.”
“So, why were you out of school this week?” I asked, peeling the label off my iced tea. This time Brendan was the one who looked uncomfortable, and changed the subject.
“What did you think of last week’s chem test?”
I noticed that he steered the conversation to teachers we liked, teachers we disliked, teachers we really disliked, upcom-ing midterm exams—all safe topics.
“I aced Latin freshman year,” he said after I confessed that Latin was my Achilles’ heel, so to speak. “I can tutor you if you need help. Mrs. Dell hasn’t changed her midterm in years. I still have it somewhere, so if you want, I’ll help you study.”
“Thanks.” I grinned, more thrilled at the prospect of time with Brendan than the promise of pulling my grades up. “It’s the only subject I’m having trouble in.”
“I’m happy to help,” Brendan said, then smiled a naughty smile. “Too bad you don’t need tutoring in French.”
“I’m quite good at French, thank you very much.” I threw a little attitude into my reply, and Brendan grinned devilishly.
But if it made him want to find out if I was bluffing, he didn’t act on it. Maybe he just likes me as a friend? A very touchy-feely, stroke-my-face friend?
“Hey, kids, off the rocks,” a security guard called, breaking our mood as he f lashed a light at us from between the bars of the fence.
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wrapped up the empty food containers while the annoyed-looking guard stood there, tapping his foot.
After Brendan helped me over the stone wall, the guard gave him a dirty look.
“The fence is there for a reason, kids. That’s a 130-foot drop.”
“Sorry,” we both mumbled around our smiles, as we headed back down from the castle.
“Hey, what time is it?” Brendan asked as we shuff led along the path. I checked my cell phone.
“Nine thirty-six,” I said. Wow. We’d been together for almost four hours. I was glad I’d only drank the one small iced tea or else I’d had to have found a bathroom somewhere in the park. Like that wouldn’t have been awkward.
“I need to get you out of here at a respectable hour if you’re going to agree to see me tomorrow.”
“So what is the plan for tomorrow, anyway?” I asked, tossing a peppermint Mentos into my mouth in an obvious hint.
“Wait for me to ask you like a good boy,” he retorted playfully, grabbing the roll of candy and taking one, leaving me hoping that he picked up on my obvious hint.
“You just got me in trouble with security.” I jokingly pouted. “Some good boy you are.”
We slowly ambled through the dark park, listening to the crunch underneath our feet as we shuff led through the fallen leaves. Brendan, after dropping the Chinese food containers in a wastebasket as we exited the park, reached out and took my left hand. Finally!
“Where does your aunt live?” he asked, his hand warm against my slightly chilly palm.
“Sixty-eighth, right off Park,” I replied. “Are you near there?”
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“No, I live downtown. I just needed to know where to walk you home. I have to walk you home, you see. All part of being a good boy now,” he teased, giving my hand a squeeze. I grinned back, and Brendan started walking even more slowly.
I got the feeling he was trying to delay our goodbye.
Wordlessly, we strolled, the only communication being Brendan squeezing my hand every now and then. Every squeeze jolted me, triggering emotions stronger than any I’d ever known.
“Is this it?” he asked after we had crossed Madison, the wind whipping his black locks around.
“Almost,” I said, still walking. “It’s the next building.” I started to take another step but he had stopped in his tracks, still holding my hand. Brendan pulled me back, tucking me into the darkened service entrance of the building next door.
My breath quickened as he drew me closer to him, releasing my hand and winding his right arm around my waist. “So Emma,” he murmured, brushing my bangs off my forehead with the fingers on his left hand. “I’ve had fun tonight, as I hope you have.”
I nodded—a little breathlessly, I might add—and he pulled me nearer still, holding me tightly against his body. I looked up at his playful smile, yearning for his lips to do something other than smile at me.
Brendan kept playing with my hair, and finally said, “I’d like to know what you’re doing tomorrow.”
“Oh, I’m busy,” I said f lippantly, trying to calm my own nerves with stupid jokes. Brendan just gave me a squeeze around my waist and raised one dark eyebrow.
“I mean, I’m busy…with you,” I said softly, feeling a little shy all of a sudden.
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good boy.” He ran his hand through my hair, drawing me in more tightly as he lowered his face. The moment his mouth touched mine, warmth spread from my lips, through my limbs and settled in my chest, where my heart f luttered almost painfully. Brendan kissed me tenderly at first, cradling my face with his hand the way he had on the rocks earlier. I slid my hands up his strong chest and clasped them around his neck, pulling him closer to me. With that, Brendan’s kiss became more urgent.
I tilted my head, parting my lips and allowing him to kiss me more deeply. I’d daydreamed about kissing Brendan plenty of times, but nothing could have prepared me for the overwhelming intensity of this embrace. It was unlike any kiss I’d ever had before. The way his mouth moved against
mine, the way his right arm stayed wrapped around me, holding me against him while he raked his other hand through my hair…
it overloaded my senses and felt natural at the same time—like this was where I was supposed to be. When Brendan eventually pulled himself away, he looked more reluctant than I was to end the moment. I was thrilled to see that he seemed just as dazed as I was.
He put his forehead against mine, and we both just breathed in for a second. I could smell that same clean-laundry scent.
Brendan pulled his lips up and tenderly kissed me on the forehead. My fingers, still intertwined around his neck, toyed with the ink-black hair at the nape of his neck; it was as soft as I’d imagined.
“That feels amazing,” Brendan breathed, bending his head to my neck, where he kissed my jaw softly before whispering in my ear, “I’ll see you tomorrow—I’ll text you my address.
Come over as early as you can.”
With a final playful nibble under my earlobe, Brendan ducked out of the doorway. I smiled and mouthed, “Bye,”
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before walking—or should I say, f loating—the few feet to the awning of my aunt’s building. I ignored the doorman’s knowing look and glanced back at Brendan, who was standing nearby to make sure I had made it into the building safely. I smiled again at Brendan—and scowled at the doorman—and went upstairs.
I’d seen movies where a girl shuts her front door and leans against it, grinning from the fresh imprint of a great first kiss.
I always thought it was some standard movie schlock. I never thought I’d actually do it.
I shut my aunt’s door and leaned against it, squeezing my eyes closed and grinning. I even sighed happily.
“Good night?” My aunt padded into the living room from the kitchen, in her pink chenille robe and matching slippers.
“Yes, Aunt Christine.” I grinned.
“I assume, a boy?”
“Yes, Aunt Christine,” I said again, smiling.
“He must be some boy,” she mused, sitting down on the couch with a dog-eared Ellery Queen paperback. “I looked like that the first time your uncle George kissed me.” My hand f lew to my mouth and I realized my lip gloss was a little smeared. She pursed her lips as if she were about to lecture me, but then I saw her eyes f licker to the photo of her and Uncle George on vacation in Dublin, their last trip before he died.