“Because I’ve been trying to get you back since the seventh grade.”
I must have given him a very skeptical look.
He laughed at my expression. “Yeah, I have a funny way of showing it. I know. But you’re always on my mind. You’re in the front of my mind, on the tip of my tongue. So if someone breaks a beaker in chemistry class, I raise my hand and tell Ms. Abernathy you did it. If somebody brings a copy of Playboy to class, I stuff it in your locker.”
“Oh!” I thought back to the January issue. “I wondered where that came from.”
“And if Everett Walsh tells the lunch table what a wicked kisser you are and how far he would have gotten with you if his mother hadn’t come in—”
I stamped my foot on the floorboard of the SUV. “That is so not true! He’d already gotten as far as he was going. He’s not that cute, and I had to go home and study for algebra.”
“—it drives me insane to the point that I tell him to shut up or I’ll make him shut up right there in front of everybody. Because I am supposed to be your boyfriend, and my mother is supposed to hate you, and you’re supposed to be making out with me.”
Twisted as this declaration was, it was the sweetest thing a boy had ever said to me. I dwelled on the soft lips that had formed the statement, and on the meaning of his words. “Okay.” I scooted across the seat and nibbled the very edge of his superhero chin.
“Ah,” he gasped, moving both hands from the steering wheel to the seat to brace himself. “I didn’t mean now. I meant in general. Your dad will come out of your house and kill me.”
“He won’t,” I murmured against Nick’s neck. “He came home while I was gone and went to bed early because he’s so pooped.” I glanced at my watch to make sure. “Yeah. He teaches four Pilates classes on Thursdays.” Then, just to be mean, I did a real number on Nick’s neck, like I would want him to move his mouth on my neck. I had to be careful or I would give him a hickey. Served him right for playing hard to get.
“Damn it,” he grunted in frustration. He put his hand in my hair and pulled my head back. Our eyes met for a second. I saw how frustrated he was, and how hot for me, and something else between his dark brows.
And then he kissed me. His mouth was on mine, covering mine and making me feel small. His tongue swept inside. He pulled my nape with his big hand to adjust me to exactly where he wanted me. The air in the SUV flashed too hot and then cold as he kissed me. His other hand slid up my thigh.
I would never have admitted this to anyone, and I would only put up with it for so long. But this was the part of a relationship with Nick I’d dreamed about and longed for: Nick in control of me.
He murmured against my neck, “See? We can’t do this in an SUV on your street in the open.” His tone was triumphant, as if he’d conquered me. Yeah!
“You win,” I sighed. Then I opened my eyes.
He gazed down at me, wearing the most beautiful smile. Nick Krieger was not putting on a brave face for the public. He was not faking. He was genuinely happy.
With me!
And then, it turned out that I won, because I got what I wanted. He kissed me for several long minutes.
Finally, he slid his hand from my nape down to my shoulder and squeezed there for a second, catching his breath. “Come on. I’ll walk you to the door.” Before I could argue about that (after all, who really wants a gentleman for a boyfriend, besides Liz?), he walked around the SUV and opened the hatchback to let out Doofus, whom I had forgotten about completely.
I resented Doofus a little. First he’d jumped into my arms when the cats attacked and made me smell like dog. Now, if it weren’t for him, I could have hung around oustide, chatting Nick up until he agreed to get back in the SUV and make out with me for a few more minutes. As it was, Doofus would be tugging on his leash the whole time and trying to pull my arm out of its socket.
To my surprise, as I watched in the rearview mirror, Doofus leaped out of the SUV, dragging his leash. I tensed, prepared to lunge from the SUV after him. I pictured chasing him all over the neighborhood. I’d had enough snowy walks for one night, not to mention snowy runs to escape death at the paws of wild animals.
Fortunately, he didn’t run away from my house. He ran toward it. He must have been hungry. He ran straight for the fence—at this point, I suspected brain damage from our fall through the Kriegers’ back door—and hooked his paws over the top, just as he had at Nick’s house. He scrabbled with his back paws until his big red dog-booty disappeared over the fence.
If he could come and go over the fence as he pleased, there was no telling what he did all over the neighborhood while we weren’t watching. Suddenly, it seemed the O’Malleys were having a hard time keeping track of their dog and their daughter.
Nick seemed to be thinking the same thing as he opened the passenger door for me. “Did you see that?”
“Yep,” I laughed, swinging his hand as we walked across the snowy lawn toward the mud room door.
“This is your house, right?”
“Either that, or some na**d hot tubbers behind that fence just got the surprise of their lives.” We’d reached the door. I leaned back against it, looking way up at him, thinking the strangest thoughts, such as, Nick Krieger is finally my boyfriend!
“I’m boarding with Liz and Chloe tomorrow,” I said. “Maybe I could come over to your house again later and check on you?” I raised my eyebrows to hint hint what I meant by checking on him. With any luck, his father would be as uninvolved and dismissive as he’d been tonight. Nick needed more yoga in his bedroom, and possibly a physical.
“I’m boarding, too,” he said, “but that doesn’t mean you can’t check on me later.” He raised his eyebrows too, hint hint.
It wasn’t funny when he did it. “What do you mean, you’re boarding?” I asked suspiciously. “You’re hurt.”
“I keep telling you, I’m not hurt that badly. It’s no worse than a football hit, and I get those all the time and keep playing. I have to beat you in a comp in two days.”
I put my hands on my h*ps and looked up at him. “The comp is canceled because you’re injured!”
He shook his head stubbornly. “I’m not injured. The comp is not canceled. Everybody in town knows about our bet. I can’t quit now. My dad would kill me. My dad has actually bet against me. Winners never quit.”
Exasperated, I ran my hands through my hair. “Nick, I understand you want to impress your dad, but it’s not worth risking your health.”
“My he—” he began. Then he took a step backward into the snow, and his broad shoulders sagged in defeat. “That’s the only reason you came over, isn’t it? Just like going outside with me last night. You want me to call off the comp because you’re so scared of that jump.”
I hadn’t even thought of the jump all night. I’d thought only of Nick. Now those fears flooded back to me, paired with his unfair accusation. I nearly started crying right there against the mud room door. But I managed to say “No” while looking into his eyes. “I am not a liar.”
We glared at each other in the starlight, clouds of our frozen breath mingling in the space between us. I realized then that the pain of crushing on him would continue for the whole year and a half of high school I had left. We would not get together, no matter how hard Chloe and Liz wished it. We couldn’t. Try as we might, Nick and I could not find a way to graduate from the seventh grade.
“Whatever.” Stomping through the snow toward his SUV, he called over his shoulder, “See you at the comp on Saturday. And by the way”—he opened the door and slid inside—“I did get your message about making out and then having an argument. I guess you got what you wanted. Now don’t call me again.” He slammed the door. Snow bounced off the hood from the shock wave. He cranked the engine and drove away down my street. Even after he’d turned the corner and disappeared, the strains of the Poseur love song still reached me in the quiet snowy night.
betty
betty
(be t) n. 1. a girl who isn’t used to snowboarding and is liable to have a fatal accident any second 2. Chloe
I dragged myself downstairs the next morning, hardly excited about boarding with Liz and Chloe. The sitch with Nick, or lack thereof, was so depressing.
Mom and Dad busied themselves with breakfast so they could get out the door and head for Boulder, where they would be spending the night. Personally, I wouldn’t have picked Friday the 13th for my date night. But tomorrow night, the real Valentine’s Day, they’d be running Parents’ Night Out for members of the health club. In years past, they’d made me work Parents’ Night Out with them. This year they’d let me off babysitting because they figured I might have fancy teenage Valentine’s Day plans, maybe even a Poseur concert. If only they knew.
Josh watched me as I walked in and sat down. Then he watched the TV on the counter for a few seconds. Then he looked straight at me. I stuck out my tongue at him. He looked at the TV, then widened his eyes at me. Finally I got it. I turned to see what on TV could possibly be so important.
Me. Snowboarding! The local access channel cycled through the same few items over and over: birthday announcements, club meetings, a recording of the latest city council meeting, a film of Everett Walsh leading the high school Scholars’ Bowl to annihilate Telluride. Now the channel listed the scores from the Snowfall Amateur Challenge in front of footage of me in the half-pipe. Hey, nice form.
My mom brought a plate of oatmeal and fruit over to me—tripped over Doofus—and managed not to spill anything. Athleticism obviously ran in the family. She sat down and followed my gaze to the TV. “Hayden, your dad and I heard you have some kind of snowboarding bet with your boyfriend, Nick.”
I choked on a strawberry and glared at Josh, who shrugged. He hadn’t ratted on me. So I told my mom, “Nick is not my boyfriend. He may have charmed you at the health club the other day, and we did indeed both go to Mile-High Pie afterward, but we were not there together.” At least, not at first. “Don’t adults have adult bets to gossip about?”
“Are you kidding?” my dad asked—tripping over Doofus—and sitting down at his place with his breakfast intact on his plate. Good save. “He was your little friend when we first moved here, right? It’s a battle of the exes. Bets about golf aren’t nearly that juicy.”
Mom went on, “Word on the street—”
Josh snorted.
“—is that you won’t win because of your fear of heights. Now, with your lessons with Daisy Delaney coming up soon, haven’t you changed your mind? Don’t you want me to make an appointment for you with a doctor who can help you get over your phobia?”
“Yes,” said Josh.
“No!” I shouted. I ignored the three of them eyeing one another over my outburst. Me, I eyed my image on TV, landing a 900 like it was nothing. Nick was right. I was chicken, and it was now or never.
“So think back to that moment,” Chloe coaxed me, “when your mom was offering you help. Picture her face when you go off this jump all by yourself.”
“Yeah, it was weird that she mentioned the bet this morning,” I said flatly. “If I didn’t know she had to work Valentine’s night, I’d say she had a bet for Poseur tickets herself. No pressure.” After eight hours on the slopes, the last two at the jump, I was getting a little tired of Chloe’s motivational speeches.
Liz must have sensed I was about to blow. She nudged the tips of her skis between my board and Chloe’s in the snow. “Let’s review the progress we have made today. We’ve done the boardercross, and though we’re not sure Hayden can beat Nick there, we’re satisfied she’s going as fast as she can go.”
“Unless I eat a lot of meats and meat products to gain weight between now and tomorrow morning,” I interjected.
“Yuck,” Liz said at the same time as Chloe put her glove on my cheek and turned my head to face her. “Focus!”
“We’ve done the half-pipe,” Liz continued, “and we’re confident Hayden will kick Nick’s ass there.”
“Yes, but only if we employ careful strategy, as in rock-paper-scissors,” I said. “My 720 totally beats Nick falling down, like paper covers rock. Unless the rock is a boy, in which case the boy always wins.”
“Hayden—” Liz began.
“I am getting sick of your attitude, Hayden,” Chloe talked over Liz. “We’ve been up here all day with you. All we have left is to get you off this jump. Every time you try, you have some excuse: wind in your face, bug in your ear, panties up your butt—”
“I was not making that up,” I broke in. “Imagine trying a trick with uncomfortable underwear.” I squirmed, rocking back and forth on my board to make my point.
“Or you make some stupid joke!” Chloe hollered at me. Her voice echoed against the rocky slope of the mountain overhead.
I stealthily looked around in my goggles to see if any boarders I knew had heard, but it was getting late, and the slopes were empty except for us.
“I’m beginning to think you don’t want to get over your fear of heights,” she said.
Suddenly, the mountain was quiet, except for the wind swishing through the tree branches and swaying their loads of snow. A few storm clouds approached from over the next peak. “I do want to get over my fear of heights,” I said.
“You don’t,” Chloe insisted. “You’re in your comfort zone. As long as everything stays right here, exactly the same, you can handle it. Guess what, Hayden? If you stay right here without ever trying anything new, you know where you’ll be ten years from now?”