Catch Twenty-Two (Westover Prep 2)

“She’s doing well.” He takes two biscuits and passes the bread to me.

I don’t know if he touches my hand when he does it on purpose or not, but my body takes notice of the brief contact. Just like I notice the warmth of the Utah sun still clinging to his clothes, the scent of hard work fills my nose. It’s sweat and earth and something spicy and masculine, and I know it would be addictive if I allow it.

Ezekiel doesn’t elaborate on his mother, but Nan keeps the conversation going, asking him questions I’m sure she already knows the answer to for my benefit. He never gets annoyed. He doesn’t sigh or give her clipped answers when she asks about last school year or his friends from town. He doesn’t seem to be placating her, and as the evening goes on, the memories of his sneer begin to fade.

I find myself smiling at him, and the distance I created when we first sat down has slowly diminished. It isn’t until he places his hand on his lap and his fingers brush the bare skin of my thigh just below my cutoff shorts that I notice just how close we are.

I nearly choke on a sip of water when his pinkie finger begins to trace small circles on my leg. His hand disappears only to show up again to thump my back as I sputter. Although it wasn’t exactly a sexual touch, it was a romantic one, and I’ve never experienced any form of romance. Guys at my school back home would rather go out of their way to avoid me rather than being caught dead sitting as close to me as Ezekiel is now. They only get close enough to insult me. It’s made me leery of all guys.

“Thank you,” I mutter, unable to meet his eyes.

Once I stop coughing, he doesn’t pull his hand back. His arm rests on the back of my chair, and as he carries on a conversation with my grandmother, his fingers begin to draw those same circles on my back, the heat of his hand seeping through my shirt. No matter how much water I suck down, my mouth and throat are like the desert.

“I think that’s a great idea.” His deep voice settles in my body, but before I can mentally roll around in it, I see Nan looking at me expectantly.

“What? I’m sorry. I missed something.”

Zeke chuckles as if he’s well aware that his touch is distracting enough that it’s keeping me from being able to concentrate on the conversation. The husky laugh only adds to the tingles his touch is eliciting.

“Ezekiel was just telling me that he thinks you’d have a good time at the county fair next month.”

“County fair?” I look over at him, swallowing thickly when I realize we’re so close that I have to look up at him instead.

“What do you say?” He smiles, showcasing his straight white teeth. “Wanna go with me?”

“With you?” I repeat like a fool.

“Yeah.” His pretty eyes search mine as he waits for an answer.

“Okay.” I shrug, going for nonchalant, but the weight of his arm is still on my shoulders.

“It’s a date then,” Nan says, and the reminder that Ezekiel and I aren’t alone in the room is the only thing I need to move a few inches away.

“A date,” he agrees as he watches my face.

Under normal circumstances his scrutiny would make me uncomfortable, but for some reason I don’t feel that way with him. No one has ever looked at me the way he’s looking at me now, and when his eyes focus on my lips, they tingle, forcing me to roll them between my teeth for relief. A small smile plays on his own lips, as if he can read my mind. My cheeks heat, no doubt turning red, and I force myself to look away from him.

He rushes to stand when Nan does, but she waves him off.

“I’m going to get the other casserole ready for you to take home. You two spend a little time getting to know each other.”

Nan shuffles away, and the awkwardness that I expected to fill our suppertime finally arrives. I don’t know what to say to him, and as silence swarms around us, I wonder if he’s unsure of what to say as well. Nan’s house isn’t large, so even though she’s at the counter busying herself with the food, she’ll still be able to hear everything we say.

“She’s been talking about you nonstop for the last month.” He grins, leaning in closer like we’re going to share a secret. “She didn’t do you justice.”

“I… umm.” I push a loose strand of hair behind my ear, unsure of how to respond to that. “Thanks.”

Crap, Frankie. How lame can you be?

“I should get going,” Ezekiel says as he stands. I miss the warmth of his fingers on my back. He bends to kiss Nan on the cheek as she offers him the covered casserole dish. “See you tomorrow, Mrs. Nanette.”