#famous(60)

“Oh god. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Rachel buried her face in her knees again, blushing. I scooted closer on the couch, so she’d be able to see the phone too. We were so close now I could smell her. Milky sweetness, roses, and some kind of herb. Focus, Bonham. All girls smell good.

“Apparently the show has an official hashtag, #FriesWithHomecoming.” I scrolled down until I saw her handle. “Look, here’s one about you. Zero trolling. Pay up.” I put the phone between us, right next to her leg. She moved her head slightly. I could feel her breath on my wrist, shallow and rapid.

@Bella18943: I love that @attackoftherach_face

slammed the door in @YourBoyKyle_B’s

face. At least bring burgers, amirite?

#FriesWithHomecoming

“That doesn’t count, it’s not really about me.” She was still partially curled up, but I could see her grinning a little. “Though a girl does like a burger, Kyle.”

“Fine, but only ’cause I like you.” I scrolled farther. Rachel leaned over the phone. Her hair brushed against my jaw. It tickled, but I didn’t want to brush it away. “Here.”

@ChiquitaDanita: @attackoftherach_face

has the best hair ever. Srsly jeals.

#FriesWithHomecoming

Rachel sighed elaborately. “I’d accuse you of cherry-picking to win the bet, but I didn’t lay down ground rules. I’ll get my wallet.”

She leaned forward to stand. I grabbed her wrist, wanting to keep her here. She turned, obviously startled, and stared at me with those huge brown eyes. Rachel’s eyes: so deep and dark you could drown in them.

“I’ll let you get by with an IOU on one condition.”

“What’s your condition?” She wasn’t smirking anymore. Without it, she looked . . . closer. Like a door had opened. I could feel my heart beating faster.

“You have to admit I’m right.”

“Right about what?”

“How awesome you were. How awesome you are.”

Rachel smiled so slowly, her lips parting a little. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, and they looked soft, like peach skin. Like something you’d want to taste.

“You drive a hard bargain, Kyle.”

“I’m a tough man, but fair.” I could feel myself leaning closer. Her eyes, lips, the skin of her cheek: magnetized.

“All right. Just this once. I guess I was kinda . . .” She rolled her eyes, grinning embarrassedly. “Awesome?”

“Not just this once. Always.”

She looked down, smiling but shaking her head, like she was humoring me. Like she didn’t believe me.

How could she not know I was telling the truth? She was funny, and smart, and just . . . different from other girls. And lately, the more time I spent with her, the more I looked at her right now, her curls tumbling over her cheeks, hiding just enough of her face that you couldn’t help but want to see more . . . she was beautiful. How had I never known before that Rachel was so beautiful?

I leaned in and kissed her. At first she was motionless, barely kissing me back. Then I felt her unfold, pressing her body along mine. Her tongue slipped into my mouth, and I wound my hand into her hair, pulling her closer, kissing her harder.

I didn’t hear the garage door open so much as feel it jolt through Rachel, the sound tensing her up. She pulled away, staring, eyes wide and a little scared. Her cheeks were redder than usual, and her hair was everywhere, a wild dark tangle. I could still taste her on my lips, she was still so close. . . .

A key started rattling in the back-door lock.

“I should go,” she said.

“It’s just my mom. I could introduce you.”

Rachel grabbed her phone off the table, looked around frantically for her bag.

“Kyle, are you in here? Whose car is that in the driveway?” Mom’s voice drifted out from the mud room.

Before I could think of anything good to say, she ran off down the hall.





chapter forty-one


RACHEL

MONDAY, 4:52 P.M.

Had that really happened? That couldn’t have happened.

I pulled out of Kyle’s driveway fast, absurdly worried about being followed, then pulled over a couple of blocks away, leaning my forehead on the steering wheel and waiting for the electrical current coursing through my entire body to settle down enough for my hands to stop shaking.

I looked around. In every direction, orderly driveways led up to semi-attached garages. Carefully pruned trees waved overhead, their leaves orange and yellow. Lawn after lawn was trimmed short, and the sidewalks were empty, like they were only there for show.

I was solidly in suburbia—far too boring for me to be dreaming. So we had to have really, truly kissed.

What did that mean?

More important, why in all the gods’ names had I run away?

I flipped through radio stations, but everything sounded annoying, so I turned it off. Had he made a mistake? Or maybe it was a pity thing. It was the only explanation. There’s no way he meant to kiss me. He was Kyle Bonham. He could have had any girl in our school before this all happened; now he could have any girl in the continental United States. With all that, there’s no way he’d choose me.

And yet . . . even without the kiss, he’d gone out of his way to try to make me feel better—even to make me feel good about myself. I’d never had anyone do that before, besides Mo. Definitely no guy had ever done that. It should have felt cheesy, but it didn’t. It was weird realizing someone I already had a crush on was better than I expected. I always assumed the more you knew of someone, the more they let you down.