Starlee's Turn (The Wayward Sons 2)

I feel a stone build in my stomach. “So they were together?”

“In the ninth grade. Which is forever ago.” She eyes me. “Seriously, don’t stress over it. What’s Jake matter to you anyway? You’ve got the hottest juvenile delinquent this side of the Sierras waiting for you outside.”

Right.

Right.

“I guess I don’t want a lot of rumors and a feud started with the head cheerleader on my first week of school.”

“I can understand that, and Christina is an evil hag.”

We walk to the door and a question is nagging at me. I stop and ask, “Were you really kicked off the cheer squad?”

She smiles. “Technically, yes. But remember what you just said about rumors? You’re not the only one that’s a victim to Christina’s lies.”

She pushes past me and falls into the crowd. Dexter’s standing near the concession stand sipping from his paper cup. I walk over.

“Everything okay in there?” he’s watching Claire walk off.

Taking my cup from him, I confess, “I was hiding from the cheerleaders.”

“Really?”

“Yep, really.”

“Anything I need to know about?”

“Nope.” I warm my belly with hot chocolate. I hear the crowd cheer. We must have done something good, and like that, I don’t want to think about stupid cheerleaders and drama. I turn to face Dex. “You know, I just remembered something.”

“What’s that?” He tosses his empty cup in the trash.

“This summer on the way back from your parents’ cabin, you made a promise to me.”

He frowns. “What was that?”

“That if I was here for football season, you’d make out with me under the bleachers.”

A small smile curves the corners of his lips. Damn he’s handsome.

I don’t have to suggest it twice; he’s got his hand wrapped around mine and we weave through the crowd of spectators in the area. He ducks behind a small wall, then pushes past a fence, cutting through a small gap.

“How did you know that was there?” I ask about the gap.

“I told you that I used to be up to no good.”

“Making out with other girls?” I hate to ask but I kind of want to know.

“Nah.” He grins. “I was too busy getting into fist-fights.”

It’s dark under her

e but noisy, the muffled bodies moving around overhead. I like the seclusion of it—the thrill—and it’s all amplified when he presses his cold fingers against my cheeks and brings me close, not hesitating before he kisses me hard on the mouth. His tongue parts my lips and it’s unlike his lips, it’s warm and tastes like chocolate. I hum and twist my fingers in his coat.

My heart hammers in my chest and I love the way his mouth feels against mine. The crowd above cheers, shouts, and yells, and we explore one another under the cloak of their volume.

I’m breathing heavily when we pull apart. He touches my chin. “That morning—the minute I saw you—I knew that no other kiss, no other girl, no other anything would matter as much as you. I knew it then and I know it now.” He pushes me against one of the posts holding up the bleachers. “Thank you for coming back.”

“Thank you for waiting for me.”