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I sat up too, folding my legs over the side of her bed. Her once welcoming and warm bedroom now felt cold, and even with the blinds open, the rain clouds didn’t allow a ray of sunshine through. Her rainbow printed duvet seemed less lively, and I felt more so like one of her dolls in the corner—silent, unmoving, only there to witness the world around it. Even though it was silent, Rachel’s intense voice rang in my head.You should feel lucky.
Rachel pulled her knees underneath her, turning toward me. “Let’s talk about something else,” she declared, shaking her head as if to shake off the tension. “Want to go watch TV?”
The buzzing feeling still consumed my chest, like bees were hard at work to build a hive in my ribcage. My hands were shaking, trembling, hinting at a balloon of my own threatening to pop. I curled my fingers, desperate to force it all down, put it all at bay. “Sure.”
I imagined my feelings like one large filing cabinet. Whenever something bothered me, I took that piece of emotion and filed it away. The only issue was that now the drawers had a hard time closing, too full of things unresolved. But who could I share them with? My parents’ divorce was too touchy of a subject with Rachel, and my parents were too busy with their own lives to listen. And the kiss…my thoughts about Reed…I couldn’t talk to anyone about that. I’d have to take it to my grave.
I rested my head on the arm of the Manning’s living room couch, viewing the TV from the slanted angle. My fingers still quivered as I pressed them underneath my cheek, and I hoped it’d die down soon.
Iwoke up to the familiar staccato vibration of a Brentwood Babble submission coming in rapid succession. At first, I ignored it, wanting to sink further into the heat that bundled my body. The fact waded slowly into the fogginess of my brain, the impromptu mid-afternoon nap leaving me disoriented. I couldn’t even remember what day it was, and it took me several moments upon opening my eyes to rememberwhereI was.
Until I looked around. One of the Manning’s blankets had been thrown across me, creating that cocoon of warmth. Rachel was no longer in the chair she’d sat down in, nowhere to be seen, but Reed lounged on the other end of the couch.
And my legs were across his lap.
One hand held the remote, and his other laid on my shin. All of him looked totally comfortable with the predicament. Through the blanket, I could feel each of his fingers, could feel where the backs of my calves rested on his thighs.
My stomach flipped over like a boiling pot of water, and heat rushed through me.
Reed noticed me stirring, glancing away from the TV. He’d changed the channel from our Netflix show to watch a football game. “Well, good afternoon, sleepyhead. I was wondering if your phone would wake you up. It’s been going off for a few minutes.”
“I—I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” I said, or whispered really, because the air seemed really thin. “Where’s Rachel?”
“In the kitchen talking to Mom.”
She was one room away, could walk in at any second and see us doing…this. And maybe it wasn’t weird, maybe it was totally normal and my twisted brain made it more than it needed to be, but panic sank its teeth into me. Like if she saw my feet in her brother’s lap, she’d somehow find the truth about everything.
When I tried to pull my legs away, Reed held fast, settling deeper against the couch. “You’re warm, you know.”
“Reed.”
He patted my shin and lowered his voice. “Rachel was in here when I sat down. It’s fine.”
When he sat down. So…what? Had he sat down and I shifted my legs onto his lap? Or had he been the one to pull them there? My phone vibrated again. I patted the couch cushions but came up empty. “What time is it?”
“About five-thirty.”
Jeez, so that meant my little “shut-eye” turned into a nap an hour and fifteen minutes long. “There goes getting into bed by a decent time,” I groaned, giving up on my cell phone search and slumping against the couch arm. “You weren’t at Landon’s for very long.”
“He and his new girlfriend had plans.” Reed tilted his head and gave me his sole focus, those brown eyes searching my face. Even though the kitchen was a few rooms away, I could hear Rachel’s voice, could hear the low mumble of Mrs. Manning’s reply, but they were both background sounds. Everything else seemed blurry under Reed’s stare. “Your hand left an imprint on your cheek.”
Spell broken. “Great.” I reached up and fiddled with one of my space buns, pulling out bobby pins. “I’m sure my hair looks crazy, too.”
“I think it looks cute.”
I forced myself to take a deep breath and not to overthink it. Instead, I made a neat little bobby pin pile in my lap, unwinding the hair I’d twisted into the bun and letting it loose. It had an awkward kink in it, not some beautiful curl like the movies, but the sensation of letting my hair down after a whole day of it being up made me sigh. So much better.
“How was the library with Kissable Josh?” Reed asked, tracing his fingers over my shin, making a path in the fuzzy blanket.
I pressed my palms over my ears, unable to fight the outward cringe. “Please stop calling him that.”
“What should I call him, then?” He pinched my calf lightly. “Dimples?”
I leaned forward and squeezed his forearm. “Stop,” I told him, but it was through a burst of laughter. “Oh my gosh, stop.”
“He really only has one dimple, doesn’t he? So, he’d beDimple. You could call him blue eyes.That’ssuper romantic.”
Without thinking, I put my hand over his mouth. My world became a moment of fracturing seconds of his soft lips against my skin and my fingers on his cheek. His brown eyes were all melty and totally latched onto mine, and they were all I could see. My breath hitched in my throat, and I dropped my hand as if it burned. It didn’t take away the sensation—it was like his lips branded onto my palm.
