10000 Things I Hate About You

I’ve decided to walk past Edgar and his friends—pretending I was just heading into the woods solo the entire time—when a big hand wraps around my elbow and a deep voice rumbles in my ear, “You’d better not be doing what I think you’re doing.”

My pulse leaps and my nipples tighten in my bra, while my elbow faints from the excitement of being lightly man-handled by my crush.

Steeling my courage to the sticking point, I glance up at Derrick in the orange light of the fire and whisper, “I don’t know what you think I’m doing, but I’d love to hear more. Assuming you’re cool with standing guard while I pee in the woods, so I don’t get eaten by wolves.”

It’s not a sexy excuse, but it works!

Derrick exhales a relieved-sounding sigh. “Sure. Though I thought girls always peed in groups of two or more.”

“Not when a girl’s friends are all off making out with boyfriends or ex-boyfriends,” I say as we pass by Edgar’s crew without incident and move farther from the flames. “Then she has to go it alone.”

Derrick grunts. “I’m glad Dad doesn’t let Evie come to these parties. They’re dangerous.”

“Yet here you are…” I arch a judgmental brow his way.

“I’m twenty-six. And a man,” he says. “I don’t have to worry about being assaulted, murdered, and my corpse left in a shallow grave.”

“Oh, come on, I’m sure there’s someone out there who wants to assault you and leave your corpse in a shallow grave,” I say, bumping his shoulder with my fist, the feel of the rock-hard muscles beneath his sweater sending a thrill tingling up my thighs. “Don’t be so down on yourself.”

He grunts again, this time with the hint of a smile I can just barely make out in the gathering shadows as we enter the tree line. He glances down at me, “Thanks, smartass.”

“You’re welcome,” I say. “So, tell me, what brings you home on this lovely spring weekend? Homesick for gnarly subs and mud season after all your time in the big city?”

“Dad needed help replacing the gutters today and didn’t want to hire someone.”

I huff. “I bet that went well. I’m assuming you refrained from putting him in a shallow grave?”

“Just barely,” he says with a heavy sigh. “Which is why I’m the old loser at the high school party tonight. I was afraid if I stayed there much longer, I’d strangle him with that stupid pipe he won’t stop smoking even though his blood pressure is through the roof.”

“It would be hard to strangle someone with a pipe, but I hear you,” I say. “Your dad is a lot. And you aren’t an old loser. All the single people in town come to these parties. There’s nowhere else to go after the bars close, unless you want to hit Brad’s house on Seventh Street, but Brad is a sad sack and it always smells like fresh ass in there.”

“Fresh ass, huh?” Derrick laughs as he follows me off the trail, under several low-hanging tree limbs, and out onto the wide, rock ledge overlooking the quarry below. “So, what’s worse? Fresh ass or stale ass?”

“Fresh obviously. It’s way more…aromatic.” I pull in breath and prop my hands on my hips, staring out over the moonlit water below.

It’s gorgeous here. The perfect place for an impromptu seduction, and Derrick and I are bantering like we’ve never bantered before. He’s actually talking to me like an equal, not a dumb kid! And I swear there was a hint of flirtation in his tone when he called me “smartass.”

But I can’t jump the gun.

Timing is everything with things like this.

Luckily, I suddenly have a brilliant idea how to set the stage for a natural transition into a “more than friends” moment.

Derrick comes to stand beside me, murmuring softly, “Wow. I forgot how pretty the quarry is in the moonlight.”

“It’s even prettier from down in the water,” I say, reaching for the bottom of my sweatshirt and pulling it over my head. I drop it on the ground and start toeing off my shoes, but I barely get one sneaker off before Derrick’s hand is on my elbow again.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asks. “You can’t jump into the water in the dark. You’ll kill yourself. And I thought you had to pee.”

I shrug. “Maybe I want to pee in the water, under the moonlight, while the stars spiral overhead.” I make a weak attempt to tug my arm from his grip. “Come on, old man, don’t be a fun killer.”

He pulls me closer, just the way I’d hoped he would. “I’m not a fun killer; I’m just not in the mood to save a drunk girl from drowning or to watch you split your head open on a rock and die.”

I lift my chin, tipping my lips toward his and setting my pulse to stampeding in the process. “Yeah? Would me dying ruin your whole night?”