Wing Jones(68)

When the sun sets again, everyone is too drained to stay up late playing games and making s’mores. We ran more today than we ever have in one day. Up and down the beach and back again. Again and again.

Before I go into my tent, I slide up next to Aaron.

“Hey,” he says, and smiles. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” I say, suddenly feeling shy, suddenly feeling nervous. “A little tired.”

“Yeah, me too. I hope you didn’t get in trouble.”

“I didn’t,” I say. And then I hope and hope and hope he’ll ask me if I want to go watch the ocean again tonight.

“Still,” he says, “you should probably sleep in your own tent tonight … just in case.”

I swallow and nod too enthusiastically. “Definitely,” I say. “I was coming over to say just that.” I stare at my feet. “So. Um. Good night?”

“Good night, Wing,” he says before leaning down to press a kiss on my cheek. On my cheek. Nowhere close to my mouth.

“This is more than a crush, isn’t it?” Eliza is already tucked into her sleeping bag.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, avoiding her wide-eyed gaze.

She sighs. “I thought you were gonna focus on training for that Riveo thing. The competition?”

I haven’t thought about it all weekend.

“I don’t even know if I’m gonna go for it,” I admit.

“Wing! You’ve got to! I think you could win! Unless you start running like you ran today,” she says, eyebrows raised.

“I’m not used to running in sand,” I say, but even I don’t believe the words.

“I think you’re not used to running when you’ve been up all night and when you’ve got a boy on your mind.” Eliza wiggles in her sleeping bag and I swat at her.

“Shhh!”

“And I didn’t like that I had to lie to Coach Kerry this morning. Do whatever you wanna do, but if you aren’t in this tent when I wake up tomorrow, I’m not gonna come find you.”

“I’ll be here,” I say, but I’m hoping that maybe I won’t be. That maybe Aaron’ll change his mind and come back to my tent tonight.

He doesn’t.

I don’t fall asleep thinking about running or even thinking about Marcus. I go to sleep thinking about Aaron. And when I wake up, he’s already on my mind.

I don’t even want to run today. All I want to do is skip to the end of the day, when we can go in the ocean, when I can be close to Aaron. I can’t stop thinking about him. About how I want more nights like the night in his tent.

The day goes even slower than I do, it feels like it drags on and on, and for the first time, I resent running. Eliza, Vanessa, or one of the other girls beats me every time. I can’t focus. I keep looking over at where the boys are running. I keep watching Aaron and remembering what his lips felt like on mine. And by the time I’ve snapped my focus from my tingling lips back to my aching feet, I’ve fallen behind again. Finally, Coach blows her whistle for the last time and training is officially over and now our time is our own.

“Wing! Come on in! The water’s great!” Aaron is already splashing around in the ocean like some kind of god of the sea, or maybe a sun god who was dropped in the sea, shining and wet and glowing. He’s beaming at me, and I swear he’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

I want Aaron so much that it scares me. I feel like it might take over, like I might drown in my wanting. Like I’ll be nothing but want. Like I won’t be able to think about anything or do anything but just want him.

Nobody ever told me it was like this. And even if they had, I wouldn’t have believed them. I thought I wanted Aaron before, but now that I’ve kissed him, now that I’ve felt him against me … now that I know he might want me back…

I don’t know if my heart is gonna be able to take it. Between being broken over Marcus and pumping so fast to keep up with me when I’m running and now all this wanting.

It isn’t fair to my poor heart.





CHAPTER 47


It’s the Tuesday night after we got back from Hilton Head and something is bothering LaoLao. I can’t tell what it is. She’s so sharp I’m surprised she isn’t cutting herself straight open. And she’s been glaring at Granny Dee all through dinner. She’s so focused on drilling holes into Granny Dee with her eyes that she hasn’t looked down at her own plate once and is spilling food all over the table and down her front.

It takes Granny Dee a little while to notice. At first she ignores it. Then she tries to glare back at LaoLao, and Granny Dee’s glares are nothing to trifle with, but she can’t compete with LaoLao.

Finally, she puts down her fork. Keeps hold of her knife, though. Uses it to point at LaoLao across the table.

“Is there somethin’ on my face?”

My mom looks up. If she’s noticed the Olympic-level glaring going on, she’s been ignoring it, which is a feat in itself. “No. There’s nothing on your face,” she says.

“Then could you please ask your mother why she is staring at me like that?” says Granny Dee primly.

This is all the encouragement LaoLao needs. She takes such a deep breath that I think I can see her lungs expanding, like she’s an opera singer. I’m glad I’m not about to be on the receiving end of whatever she’s about to unload on Granny Dee.