Counting Down with You(88)

Ace nods, resting his forehead against mine. “All your lines.”

“There are so many,” I whisper and my voice cracks. “You should give up now.”

He smiles faintly. “That doesn’t change anything. I want you, Karina Ahmed. That means lines and all.”

He leans in, and I meet him halfway, our lips brushing together in a soft kiss.

A tear slips down my face without permission and he pulls back, stroking a careful thumb against my cheek. “I’m not giving up on us unless you are.”

I shake my head. “I don’t want to give up on us. I choose this. I choose us. I choose you.”

“Then I’m here to stay,” he says, and he leans in again, pressing a gentle kiss below my eye. “Come out back with me?”

I nod and follow him to the truck bed again, my chest flooded with warm, dizzying emotions.

Ace whispers luminous stories to me for another hour before we finally call it a night and he drives me home.

The truck idles in front of my driveway, and I unbuckle my seatbelt. I turn to find Ace watching me. “Thank you. For the date and the ride. And everything else.” My pulse is racing for no discernible reason. Or maybe it’s because I can still feel the ghost of Ace’s lips against my skin, still hear the echo of his words in my head.

“And you thought the truck would kill you,” Ace says, eyes dancing in the pale moonlight spilling through the window.

“No,” I say quietly. “I thought you would.” I still do.

Ace blinks as if he didn’t expect that answer. I offer him a small smile and climb out of the truck.

I shut the door behind me, then hesitate. I turn back around and knock on the window. Ace peers at me in confusion and I tap again insistently.

He leans over the seat and manually winds the window down. I give him a pointed look but refrain from making a comment about how old the truck is. “Did you forget something?”

I shake my head. “I want you with all your lines, too,” I say and duck forward to press a quick kiss to Ace’s cheek.

In front of me, Ace’s mouth snaps shut. I can’t help but smile at his gobsmacked expression before I turn around and walk to my front door.

His truck continues to idle until I unlock the door and slip inside. Outside, the engine rumbles, and I watch from the window as he disappears down the street.

“Myra,” Dadu says, making me jump twenty feet in the air. I turn around with a hand clutching my heart.

“Dadu,” I say. A small wave of panic pushes at my chest. Did she see me kiss Ace’s cheek? She doesn’t look mad, which is a good sign.

She observes me for a moment before smiling faintly. “Tell Alistair it is 10:02 p.m. He promised me 10:00 p.m. If he does this next time, I might have to make your curfew 9:58 p.m. instead.”

I laugh hoarsely. “Okay, Dadu. I will.”



41


T-MINUS 7 DAYS

A knock on my bedroom door startles me from my failed attempt at yoga, and I hit my arm against the side of my desk.

I’ve moved on to the next coping method. Candles have proven useful, but I want to have as many options as possible.

Hence why I’m trying yoga to help with my anxiety. Not that it’s going well.

“Yo, Myra Apu?” Samir says, peeking his head in the door. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Yeah, sure.” I rub the side of my arm. “What’s up?”

“I need your help,” he says.

I falter and look at him. What could Samir possibly need my help with? “With...?”

Samir lets himself in and shuts the door behind him before sitting at my desk. He levels me with an extremely serious expression. “It’s top secret. You can’t tell anyone.”

“Who am I going to tell?” I ask, exasperated. In the days since his apology, we’ve returned to normal in the way only siblings can after a huge fight. Last night, his help in hiding my date from our parents only proved it further.

“No one can know,” Samir emphasizes.

I roll my eyes. My brother is the world’s strangest specimen. “Just spit it out.”

Samir lets out a deep sigh. “I need to know more about Leah.”

“About who?”

“Leah Jimenez,” Samir says, his tone despairing. In the back of my head, the girl from the bleachers appears. “She goes to Miss Cannon’s after-school tutoring. She said you helped her with Fahrenheit 451.”

I blink at him several times. “Okay, and...?”

“What do you mean?” Samir runs a hand through his hair. “Bro, come on, just tell me what’s up. What’s she like? What’s she into?”

“I’m not your bro,” I say, raising my brows. “And I’m sorry, but I don’t really know her. She was just a random freshman I helped.”

Samir makes a horrible sound like he’s dying. I’m starting to wonder if maybe he’s secretly related to Cora. “Myra.”

I narrow my eyes at him for withholding the honorific for older sister, Apu. “Don’t call me Myra.”

“Oh my God, I can’t call you bro, I can’t call you Myra. What do you want from me?”

I throw a wad of paper at him. “Get out of my room if you’re going to be a clown.”