“Yeah—but now I’ve got nothing cheddar than that.” I worry my bottom lip with my teeth, careful not to expose the cheek-busting grin threatening to explode across my face. I don’t know if I’m an overly nostalgic person in general, but with Nana, the limit doesn’t exist. If I could, I’d bury myself in a cocoon of her everlasting warmth.
He blinks. “Yeah, you win. You clearly have a punning problem.”
“Huh. My first victory.”
“Oh, come on.” He sits, sipping his coffee. “You’ve won plenty.”
I cross my arms, slowly raising a brow in challenge. I wouldn’t exactly call my victory count plentiful, as the number hovers approximately at zero. “Please refresh my memory.”
“Well.” He hesitates and rubs the stubble on his cheek. “You—There was the time . . .you told me to eat a sandwich, and I liked it?”
“Oh yes, I remember that like it was yesterday,” I say, satisfied he’s at least able to recognize reality and have the decency to sound a bit embarrassed. “But mark my words, Mr. Kelly, the tides are changing. Victorious cheese puns are just the beginning for me.”
He shakes his head, smiling into his cup. “I have no doubt you could win whatever you want with me, Peaches.”
A familiar warmth blooms in my chest and rattles my nerves. This isn’t a feeling I typically associate with Liam. No, this feeling is reserved for people I like.Danger. Danger.I shift further away on the bench for safe measure, tucking my hands under my butt and letting my legs lightly swing. “Do you remember Tyler Higgins?”
“High school quarterback, Tyler Higgins? Yeah, what about him?”
“My mom wants him to take me to the wedding.”
“You know we nicknamed him President Party Pooper for a reason, right?”
“So?” I shrug. “Not everyone is blessed with the social advantages of black magic. Some of us have to charm others naturally.”
“Still, that’d be a cruel thing to do to the poor guy. You should go with someone more on your level.”
“I can behave for the night,” I say bashfully. The warmth wilts inside my chest as quickly as it bloomed. Well, at least this feels more natural anyway.
“You shouldn’t have tobehavewith whoever you’re with.” A hint of annoyance flashes over his features. “You’ll be bored stiff with him.”
“I was under the impression stiff was the objective.”
He doesn’t acknowledge the joke. Moving on, then.
I shift on the bench. “Well, it was either him or Charlie Bennet, so . . .”
“He was an ass to you. Why would you want to—”
“I don’t want to do anything, but he’s over six feet, and I’m in a bind with my mom.”
“Does your mom want him to get another black eye?”
“Contrary to popular belief, I didn’t give him that.”
“I know. I did,” he says calmly, sipping his coffee like this isn’t a serious news bomb he’s dropping into the conversation.
“You did?” My breath snags in my throat as I try to fully comprehend what he’s saying.
The pocket full of sunshine.
King of Whittemore High School.
Wonder Boy.
Punched Charlie Bennet?
Because of something he did tome?
