Pete huffed out some amusement. “Yeah, he sure is a smart little guy. I’m looking forward to working with him.”
“Well, the feelin’s entirely mutual,” I replied in a dejected voice.
After giving me another quizzical look, he shut the door. A short moment later he’d replaced the cooler and came around and fired up the engine. The music automatically came on, but he switched it off to level me with a look.
“I’m not sure why that bothers you exactly,” he said, sounding hurt. “I would think you’d be happy knowing he likes me . . . since we’ll be spending time together every day.”
“I am,” I said tonelessly.
Pete looked like he was going to say something then thought better of it. Instead he decided to change the sore subject. “Okay, now that I’ve come clean about everything . . . it’s your turn now.”
“I wouldn’t say everything,” I disagreed lightly.
“What do you mean?”
“I still have a few more questions for you.”
“About The Academy?” he clarified, and when I nodded, annoyance passed over his face. “Didn’t you get the brochure? I don’t want to waste our time together rehashing material you can read for yourself. It’s really pretty straight forward stuff, Kate.”
“I wanna talk about what’s not in the brochure.”
“All the pertinent info is in the brochure,” he countered. “And Ranger and I went over all that with your father at the meeting.”
“Yeah, but not with me,” I said.
Some air puffed from his cheeks. “What do you want to know?”
“More about the mentorin’ program, about the kinds of tests you’ll be administerin’ to him, where you’re livin’ while you’re here—”
“I’m glad to see that made the top three,” he cut in humorously.
I ignored his flirt intended to divert me from my fact-finding mission. “I could go on. In fact, I have a list.” I was bending to retrieve it from my backpack when he caught my shoulder.
“Not so fast,” he said. “It’s my turn to ask the questions now.” I started to protest, but Pete shook his head. “That’s not fair. Besides, that list sounds like it’s going to take longer than what’s left of this drive to answer. So, like I said—my turn.”
I huffed out some aggravation.
“It’s called getting to know you, Kate.”
“Fine—shoot.”
Pete fought a smile. “Funny choice of words.”
I made an impatient, flappy hand gesture. “Fire away.” He arched an eyebrow at me, and I rephrased: “Interrogate away.”
He simply smiled at my pout. “Okay, first: What do you like to do for fun on the weekends?”
I was quiet for a few seconds, watching the familiar sights—fast food joints, architecturally bankrupt banks, fledging strip malls—fly by as we drove back to school. I wondered how he knew his way around so skillfully, but let it pass with the scenery to ponder his question.
When was the last time I actually did anything for fun? “Uh . . .”
“Come on, Kate! That’s an easy one.”
“I have no idea.” I shrugged my shoulders, blushing a little at the admission.
He threw me a sharp look. “Katherine Lee Connelly, you’re meaning to tell me you have no idea what you like to do for fun?” He truly looked incredulous.
My face blistered. Dagnab. I should’ve said something that normal people like to do like surf the Net or cruise the drag. Instead, I ended up sounding like I had no life, which in fact, was true.
“Nothing at all comes to mind?”
“Look!” I practically spat. “I take care of my brothers everyday and waitress on the weekends—my schedule doesn’t exactly have a lot of blank space!” Pete looked sideways at me, and I hated the pity I saw reflected in his eyes. “. . . I probably wouldn’t recognize fun if it slapped me upside the head, alright?”
Who is he to judge me and my life? He wouldn’t know a thing about hardship and loss and even less about being poor! He with his fancy-shmancy boarding school! He probably spent his weekends surfing the Pacific with his bubbly California beach babe. Why would he want a workhorse when he was used to Thoroughbreds? A bitter lump clumped in my throat. I quickly swallowed it down with a large dose of anger. Kinda felt like kicking a dent in his shiny Hummer.
Pete was quiet for a few moments, waiting for my storm of emotions to blow over. The only sound was the hum of the engine. Embarrassed by my outburst, I spoke again to fill up the awkward pause.
“I already know my life is boring and pathetic, okay?”
“I don’t think you’re boring or pathetic,” he said in a velvet voice. He reached for the hand clenched in my lap. “In fact, I find you to be the opposite of boring. And taking care of your brothers full-time while working part-time is noble, not pathetic.”
I dared a peek at his eyes. What I saw there moved things around in my chest. Inexplicably, I felt even lighter than before. I guess it was finally sharing a piece of my burden with someone. It’s like I could breathe freer after having oxygen rationed for so long.
He gave my hand a good squeeze and turned the music back on. “But we gotta work on the fun part. Agreed?” He smiled at me, and my heart did its back-flip thing.
“Agreed.”
“Okay, back to the questions now,” he said, once again changing the sore subject. “What kind of music do you like?”
16
FLIP-FLOP HEART
We arrived back to school with stereo and laughter blasting out the windows like a couple of regulars. Pete seemed to find my “extremely eclectic taste in music” hysterical. The engine cut off, and I watched, fascinated, as his mouth quirked up again.
“I still can’t believe your favorite music is rap. Gansta rap, too?”
I laughed. “Among other things. What did you expect? Country?”
“You got me again,” he said before getting out and coming around to get my door. “I hate to repeat any of what I’d like to think of as my witty remarks, but if the shoe fits—you are wearing cowboy boots,” he pointed out.
“Guess it goes to show you—you really can’t judge a book by its cover. And I do like country music every now and again.” I hopped down with his assistance. “It’s just rap is . . .”—I grinned up at him, finding the exact right word—“fun.”
He threw his head back and laughed, but we didn’t have a chance to continue talking, because we were immediately blitzed by mobs of gossip-starved eyes.
Ugh. Back to reality.
Again, if Pete noticed the undue amount of attention we were receiving, you couldn’t tell. He slid his arm around my shoulder as casually as he slipped on his jacket, and we tromped across the parking lot together like we’d been going steady for ages.
I tried not to feel stiff and self-conscious, but it was kinda hard when the world’s sexiest guy had his arm around you. As soon as we entered the classroom, the loud buzzing came to an abrupt stop. I pretended not to see the bitter twist Miguel’s mouth, twisting around instead to face Pete so we could resume our conversation. But faster than you can say hola, we were accosted by Ashley-Leigh. Seriously? We hadn’t gotten two words out.