AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The crowd chuckles, and Tess looks up at the audiovisual station. “Well, you heard the lady!” Within seconds, the spotlight is off Tess, and a makeshift screen lights up on the wall of the dining hall. As the opening music plays, Tess moves off the stage, and Mrs. Lockhart motions for her to come over to us.
“I wish you’d started with that conductor song,” the mayor says. Her smile is bright, but her teeth are gritted.
“Maybe next time,” Tess says.
Then Mrs. Lockhart points down at the two open chairs. “Have a seat you two. You’re blocking the screen.”
Tess’s eyebrows fly to her scalp. Two rainbows of shock. Not in a good way. “Oh, no. I’m happy to sit in the back.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Mrs. Lockhart glances at Mr. Dudley then back to Tess. “You’re Sunny Camp’s director.” Teeth grit. Teeth grit. Teeth grit. “This is about appearances. Sit, Tess. Sit!”
Tess’s shoulders slump as she drops into the chair between the mayor and me. I can’t say I blame her. Mrs. Lockhart’s treating Tess like a dog. So I sit too, planning to whisper an offer to bark at the mayor on her behalf, but my brother pops his head up from the row behind us.
“Way to go, little bro,” he says. My immediate response is to square my jaw.
Prepare for defense, Spencer.
Sure, Frank could be praising the audience applause for me, or he could be pointing out my proximity to Tess. More likely, his aim is sarcasm. To cover all bases, I nod and keep my line of sight aimed forward. I’m playing it cool. Acting like Frank can’t get to me. But the problem is he can. And against all my better instincts, I find myself wanting to prove something to him.
To myself.
So as my brother sits back in his seat, I start one of those exaggerated stretches where the guy drapes an arm over the girl in the movie theater. At the same time, Tess scoots her chair an inch toward Mrs. Lockhart. Another inch farther from me.
Man. Getting closer to Tess tonight—literally or figuratively—might be harder than I thought.
And since Kayla’s over there sitting with the Irony Chef, I’m already on strike two.
As the movie continues, I don’t even try to pay attention. Yes, I can appreciate any storyline about complicated sibling relationships, but Frank and I are hardly royal princesses. And we’re in Apple Valley, not a frozen tundra. Plus, the only bad guys we’re fighting are each other.
That, and a stupid bet.
I am aware, however, of all of Tess’s reactions, small as they are. She shifts in her chair. Sniffles a couple of times. I even think I catch her wiping her eyes. She’s as far as she can get from me and not be in Mrs. Lockhart’s lap. But these folding chairs are still close enough for me to brush her arm if I want to.
And I want to.
Not just for Frank.
So I make a move to put on my hoodie—a logical progression as the night gets colder—and after sliding it over my head, I readjust my arms so they’re sticking out. Not abnormally.
Correction: Not abnormal for me.
From my peripheral vision, I see Tess swivel to check on the mayor. Mrs. Lockhart, for the record, has appeared to be fully engrossed this whole time. Half on the movie. Half on Mr. Dudley. Now she’s inclining her head, commenting in his ear. When he murmurs something back, I can only imagine the scintillating observations. I picture her noting the parallels between her and the snow queen. I imagine his pepperoni breath.
Change the subject.
I shift my gaze back to Tess. She’s focusing on the movie, so I hazard a small shift in my own position, letting my arm creep closer to her arm resting on the chair. Closer.
Closer.
Closer.
She’s slipped a long-sleeved, nylon shirt over her usual tank top and jeans shorts. This is the kind of athletic shirt you’d put on for a run in the morning when the air is cool. The fabric is pink. The exact shade of her cheeks when she’s smiling. The instant our arms make actual contact, I stop moving. Tess is a flighty bird in a nest I can’t scare away. Before I know it, she could fly off for good, and I don’t want to miss my moment. I’m not moving. She’s not moving. We’re both at a standstill.
So I wait a full minute. Then, I glance over my shoulder. Frank’s eyeing me with a nod. Good. Turning back forward, with the patience of a glacier, I gently press against Tess’s arm. She sucks in a small breath, but that could be a result of the movie. Not that I know what’s going on. I haven’t been paying attention.
When there’s no other reaction from her, I let my shoulder gravitate toward the edge of the seat. I keep going, in tiny increments, until the length of our forearms are aligned. She exhales, and I hear it. I’m officially on fire. Who knew a movie about being frozen could ignite me like this?
Tess McCoy ignites me like this.
