“I’m not looking at you like that.”
He chuckled. “You are. Anyway, I got my revenge. My parents were furious. So, of course my sister was punished.”
“How?”
“For the remainder of the trip, I got to decide what we would eat for dinner, what dessert would be, and what we would do each and every day.”
Nico smiled. “And I’m guessing you made certain to choose things she hated.”
He nodded. “I did.”
She laughed and then grew silent, staring at him.
I bet they were furious. Especially your mother. I bet you were a beautiful boy. Your mother must love you something awful. How could she not?
She blinked, suddenly realizing she was staring. He was too. He seemed to become aware of it at the same moment she did. They both turned in unison and began pacing in opposite directions.
Rocco mopped the sweat on the back of his neck. When he reached one end of the room and turned around, he stared at her, standing in the corner.
“Aren’t you hot in that thing?”
“I’m o-kay.”
“You know, that’s probably why you looked like you were going to faint. You must be sweating gallons. Why don’t you take it off? Or at least do what I did and unzip the top part.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
She looked down. He waited.
“Because,” she muttered, “I don’t have anything on underneath.”
His heart began to pump faster, and it had already been pumping plenty fast.
“What do you mean? You took the undershirt off? This?” He indicated, pulling on his shirt.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I was sweating like crazy. There were huge sweat stains on it. And Casey said I didn’t have time to go change. So, I slipped into the first-floor restroom and took it off. I left it there.”
“Oh.”
He looked at her zipper and swallowed.
“Do you have a—a bra on?”
“Of course I have a bra on.”
Now he was trying to imagine it. Was it black? White? Red? Pink? Maybe something entirely different like lilac. Was it lacy? See-through?
He blinked, suddenly realizing he was staring at her chest. He lowered his eyes.
“Oh, well,” he said as though speaking to the carpet, “a bra is just like a bikini top. I mean, they cover up the same amount of skin. It’s just this idea that one is a bra and the other’s a bikini. There’s really no difference. Not really.” He ventured a glance and met her eyes. “Unless, I mean, I guess sometimes, bras can be, um, lacy.” He paused and then added hastily, “I mean, if you’re into that sort of thing.”
The shirt and pants he wore under the racing suit were supposed to be flame-retardant, but now he felt as though he’d traveled to a world that was the polar opposite of this one—the south pole was pointing north, and anything flame-retardant was now flammable—highly flammable.
