His eyes started doing that smoldering thing again. I closed my eyes and fought the urge to lean against him and just breathe. It would, I thought, be a little like heaven on earth. I must’ve started to sway, because Pete caught me by my shoulders.
“Hey. You okay?”
“Um . . . yes?”
As if from some mental guidance from me, he dropped our backpacks and reached for me. For once, I didn’t hesitate. I wanted to lean on somebody stronger than me. I wanted him to infuse me with strength, to fill in all the holes that riddled me with doubt and zapped my confidence, as crazy as that sounded. I’d never bought into the idea that having a guy makes you complete. But that’s exactly how I felt in that moment—complete.
So instead of fighting my body’s urges, as was so long the norm for me, I yielded to them. And to him. It was like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle fitting together exactly right—his arms wrapped around my waist, my head tucked under his chin, his chin on my head. The steady rhythm of his heart was soothing to my frazzled nerves. I breathed in the heady masculine scent emanating from his black T-shirt. Like a smoker taking the first hit of nicotine of the day, I inhaled him all the way down into the farthest recesses of my lungs. I just hoped he wouldn’t prove to be toxic.
He seemed the opposite of harmful to me this morning. More like a shield from the harm that threatened me as he embraced me in his capable arms. We stayed fused together like that for a few moments—right in front of the main entrance of my high school, in full view of the principal’s office, gawking latecomers, God, and everybody. And it felt good in a way that was dangerous to the health of my heart.
He’s here to tear my family apart I reminded myself again and again, even as we swayed together as one. Finally, self-preservation kicked in. I stiffened, and he immediately loosened his hold on me. With a little throat clear, I stepped away.
“Sorry . . . I don’t know what that was about,” I mumbled, fingering my bottom lip.
Pete’s eyes darkened as he watched my nervous habit, but he kept his tone light. “Are you apologizing for needing a hug?”
“Yeah.” I laughed, more than a little embarrassed. “I guess I am.”
“You have nothing to apologize for—everyone needs a hug every now and again. And it just so happens I’m a hugger by nature. And . . .” he leaned in and whispered, “I needed one, too,”
I gave him a grateful smile. “I, um . . . we better get to class.” I turned to go, but he caught my arm. Gah! Every little touch sent tingles like little electric shocks of pleasure.
“Meet me for lunch today . . .”
One step up from him, we were almost eye-to-eye. I couldn’t tell if it was a command or a question. The hypnotic pull I felt toward him was almost impossible to resist. I wanted to believe in him so bad it was an ache . . . almost as bad as I wanted to lean in and kiss him. Not trusting myself to speak, I simply nodded my head and scurried to the library before I could get sucked in any further.
After re-shelving the books, I was able to shoot off an overdue email to Reese. She informed me my horoscope said I’d meet a mysterious, new love interest this year. Even though I had a feeling this was a made-up fun-fact, I just went with it, telling her about Pete but leaving out the weird way we met and the un-fun fact that he was not to be trusted. I couldn’t very well tell her my suspicions about my brother’s mentor being here on a secret, sinister mission, or else she would think I was certifiably crazy. . . . Maybe I am?
Her insights were sweet and thoughtful, but more than a little bit off the mark since she didn’t have all the facts about what was really going on. She quickly suggested the elite boarding school would definitely be a good place for my brother, and immediately found the best perk: when I visited him, I’d be able to see the good-looking (I’d opted out of using the word hot) cadet at the same time. She also pointed out that with Andrew away to a great school, I’d have more free time to cut loose and enjoy my high school experience.
I didn’t have the heart to tell her that was never going to happen—I had about as much in common with my high school friends as atheists do with Quakers. And after spending time with Pete Davenport, I was completely ruined for regular boys. It was like going back to burgers after dining on the finest steak in the world; you found your palette to be suddenly and irrevocably altered. Once you’ve had a taste of the best, it really was kind of hard to go back to the rest.
I heaved a sigh and trudged along to my next class, too preoccupied with scenarios of how things might play out to notice much of anything else. Miguel sidled up to me. Unsure if he was mad at me or not, I decided to greet him normally. “Hey, Miguel.”
“Hey, Katie. Whazzup?” Standard greeting, but his face lacked animation.
We walked into class together and sat down in our regular seats—a good sign. My head immediately sought its desk pillow, but I was sure I would be drooling within five seconds if I didn’t instantly yank it back up. So I did, yawning and unzipping my backpack at the same time. All the while, Miguel quietly studied me.
“What?” I threw my hands out.
It was hard to tell, but it looked like he might be blushing because his brown skin was slowly turning mahogany. “Katie, what’s goin’ on with you and that cadet guy?”
I did the head-shake-I-don’t-wanna-talk-about-it thing. “Nothin’ . . . really.”
“Doesn’t look like nothin’ from where I’m sittin’.”
Now it was my turn to blush. Several ears in close proximity suddenly tilted our way, so I just sort of rolled my shoulders, hoping he’d get the hint.
“You wait on the guy one time and now all of a sudden, you’re hangin’ out and havin’ lunch together?” he prompted.
I decided to tell him a truthful mini-version of the story. It’d all come out anyway. Clovis was a lot like living in a fish bowl—sans water. “Actually, that was the first time we met, but I didn’t know who he was at the time.”
Miguel made a sinusy grunt. “And who is he exactly?” His face looked un-cute distorted with anger.
I puffed out some pent-up air, somehow not really wanting to say the words. “He’s Andrew’s new ‘mentor’,” I air quoted, not quite keeping the acid out of my voice.
“Mentor?”
“Yeah. ‘Mentor,’” I air quoted again for good measure.
Miguel’s anger came down a notch directly in proportion to how mine went up when I talked about it. “You mean he’s only here to mentor Andrew and then he’s leavin’ again?” The relief in his voice was unmistakable.
“Yup. Pretty much . . . oh, and to see if Drew’s a good fit for his ‘elite’ school.” More angry air quoting from me.
“So you don’t really even like the guy?” His face brightened a little at this prospect.
“It’s more like I don’t like his school program,” I said, picking around my words. “If Andrew’s accepted, he’ll leave the beginning of January.”
“So you mean Davenport’s here all semester?”
I gave Miguel an impatient look. “I think you’re missin’ the point, Miguel—Andrew, my eight-year-old brother, might be leaving for boarding school, in California, at the end of the semester!”