Page 21 of Kiss Slay Replay

“Wait,” I say.

He takes a step back, covers his face with his hands. “Sorry. Got carried away.”

“No, no, no. Not at all. It’s just…” I wish I fucking knew. “We’ll be late for dinner. If we get into that now.”

“Ah,” he says, dropping his hands. “Right. Damn. The dinner where you can’t sit next to me.”

“Correct. Not because I don’t want to. There are rules.”

“You and these rules. Can’t be drunk, can’t be late.”

“We’ve already established I am not cool and a nerd.”

“Can I tell you something?” he asks, leaning in close again, putting my back to the wall again.

“You can tell me anything.”

“I think you lied about having cigarettes to get me alone.”

“You’re arrogant.”

“But am I wrong?” He gives me his big, crooked grin.

I slip away from the wall and walk into my room, flip the light on and search my big purse. There’s a smooshed pack tucked into a random pocket, along with a small red lighter. I’m grateful they’re not in my car, so I can disprove Danny’s presumptuous theory. And so I can smoke.

Danny stands in the doorway, leaning coolly against the frame.

“Found them,” I say, holding up the pack.

“You don’t strike me as a smoker.”

“I’m not, really. I go through phases. My friends hate it.”

“No judgment,” he says, taking out his flask. He offers it to me, and I trade him for the pack of cigarettes, then we swap back.

We step out onto the porch and sit on the swing. Danny lights my cigarette before he lights his own. The night is impatient, darkness bullying the light from the sky. I get my phone out to check the time. It’s 7:33. The reception just started. We’re late.

I’m surprised that Cass or Evan hasn’t texted me about disappearing with Danny but then realize it’s because I don’t have any service.

“What’s up?” Danny asks.

“We are officially three minutes late.”

“Damn. We might get the chair for this.”

“Firing squad, I think.”

He stands, offers me a hand up. “Sorry. You can blame me. I’m used to it. Getting in trouble.”

“You don’t say.” We step off the porch and I drop my cigarette onto the path, stomp it out. “Do you have any service?”

“Nah. This place is a dead zone.” He flicks his cigarette butt, kicks some dirt over it. He walks backward so he can look at me. “I am sorry that I made you late. I was going off a vibe. If I took things too far…”

“No. It’s not…It wasn’t…It was just the timing.”

“Okay, okay. Good, good,” he says, smiling, showing off his dimples. His hair is a mess. His tie is loose. He keeps stumbling but won’t turn around, won’t stop looking at me. Now I regret putting an end to our hookup. I want to tackle him to the ground.

“Can I tell you something?”