Perfect Couple (Superlatives 2)

“I made the same joke about Brody,” Sawyer pointed out, “and he didn’t mind.”

“Kennedy’s dad puts a lot of pressure on him,” I said carefully.

Sawyer rolled his eyes. “If you want to know what people are saying about you, they’re saying you’re hot.”

“Really?” I asked skeptically.

“Yes.”

“I felt like I needed to wear glasses so my face would have something in it. It just looks kind of blank to me, not pretty.”

“We all have issues,” Sawyer said, almost kindly.

I nodded.

“But that is the most fucked-up thing I’ve ever heard. You thought you weren’t pretty, so you wore glasses? That’s pathological.”

“Sawyer!” I protested. “Why are you so mean?”

“I don’t know,” he said.

He slowed as we cruised past Brody’s house. A car was there—probably his mom’s. The outside lights were on, waiting to guide Brody safely into the house after his date with Grace.

“You should have gotten Most Original,” Sawyer said. “You would have, if you hadn’t been elected to that couples thing with Brody.” Satisfied that Brody’s truck wasn’t parked anywhere around his house, Sawyer drove on down the dark, palm-lined street. Will was right behind us. The headlights of his Mustang shone through the back window of the truck cab.

“Who’d you vote for in the couples thing?” I asked Sawyer. “I still haven’t found anyone who admits to voting for Brody and me.”

“I voted for myself,” Sawyer said.

“And who?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Sawyer!” I exclaimed. Sawyer voted himself Perfect Couple That Never Was with a mystery woman? I was dying to know who.

“It’s a secret ballot!” he protested.

I took a different tack. “Are you going to ask her out?”

“No,” he said quickly. “It’s just a fantasy.”

“You never know until you try.”

“This I know,” he said ominously. He was after a girl he thought he couldn’t have. And I was afraid he was right, if I’d guessed correctly which girl he had in mind.

“Is it Kaye?”

I watched blush creep into his cheeks. He asked evenly, “Why would you say that?”

“You wanted to be in the Superlatives photo with her and Aidan, but only in costume. You bug her constantly and taunt her. You act like a seventeen-year-old with a crush, or a twelve-year-old with borderline personality disorder.”

He winced, but that was the only indication he heard me, or that I was right about Kaye. The blush slowly drained away, leaving him looking pale.

“I keep secrets,” I told him.

“Good.” He slowed in front of a house that must have been Grace’s. Several cars were parked in the driveway, but not Brody’s truck. Sawyer turned the corner and headed for the harbor.

“Brody told me you’ve started working out with the football team instead of the cheerleaders,” I said.

“Yeah,” Sawyer said. “Not the plays, of course, just the drills. I want to be able to run a 5K without having to sit down.”

“You’d just been in the hospital that week, Sawyer.”

“I want to be able to wear a pelican costume without passing out from heat exhaustion.”

“It was, like, ninety-five degrees that afternoon, wasn’t it?”

“I guess I just want to feel . . . worthy.”

“Worthy!” I laughed. “Sawyer, that doesn’t make sense. Everybody loves you.”

He eyed me skeptically across the cab.

“They do!” I protested. “In a love/hate sort of way.”

“Thanks for not making me feel any better.”

It surprised me that Sawyer felt bad in the first place.

He pulled his truck into the harbor’s parking lot. No streetlights shone here this late at night, which made it perfect for teenagers parked in clusters, blasting music and sitting on tailgates. They squinted into Sawyer’s headlights and shielded their eyes. We drove slowly until we saw Brody’s truck.

Sawyer parked in front of Brody, about twenty yards away. Sawyer’s headlights shone straight into the cab. Brody was behind the wheel. Grace was on the other side of the seat. They weren’t touching, as far as I could tell, but who knew what they were doing behind the high dashboard? They blinked like deer.

Sawyer switched off his engine and the headlights. We could still see the dark forms of Brody and Grace. In a few moments, when their eyes adjusted, they would be able to see us, too, and everything we were about to do.

“No tongue,” I said quietly.

“No tongue!” Sawyer exclaimed. “That’s like saying we’re going to have sex with no—”

I was already sliding toward him across the seat as he spoke these words. I slapped my hand over his mouth and gave him a stern look. “Did you just say that to me?”

“No, I did not,” he said through my hand.

Cautiously, I took my hand away. And then, before I could think this through any further, we were kissing. The strange, sleep-deprived vibration I’d been feeling all day pushed me against his chest.

He whispered against my lips, “Just a little tongue.”

I cracked up. I was so giddy and nervous that I couldn’t stop laughing.

“Come on, just a little,” he coaxed me. “You’ll love it. You’ll be saying, ‘Sawyer, stud, I am sorry I ever doubted your tongue.’?”