Bookishly Ever After (Ever After #1)(65)

I took a seat on the fallen log, watching to see if he would follow. My heart gave a nervous lurch when he actually did. “How is your cabin?”

“I already had one kid mouth off to me today. You’d think eleven year olds would at least have some respect for us. My parents owe me.” He bumped me with his shoulder. “You?”

I thought about our afternoon icebreaker with the campers. “They’re pretty awesome. One of the campers is even reading the same book as me.”

“Oh, yeah, you read that teen stuff, right? I grew out of those things when I left middle school.”

I bit back my automatic defensive response. So we didn’t have the same taste in books. “There are a few really good ones.”

He shrugged. “You’re probably right. I’m just into more literary things, you know? Like when we read Catcher in the Rye last year. That’s probably my favorite book.”

“Sorry, but I couldn’t stand Holden’s whining. Even if his sister did have an awesome name.” I tried to do a quirky half-smile, and hoped that it looked cute and not like I was having a stroke.

He stared at me blankly for a second, then let out a short laugh. “Oh, yeah. Phoebe. Cute.” He took a long drink from his beer and shrugged.

An awkward pause followed and I searched the trees for inspiration about something, anything to say. Talk about him, the Marissa voice told me. “You said you go camping a lot?”

“I do, but it’s nothing like this. You guys are getting it easy with the cabins and bunk beds. I usually sleep in a tent, and once, we made our own lean-tos.” I opened my mouth to respond, but he pushed on, “In the middle of winter. I don’t know how you and Jacobs got to teach orienteering and firemaking while I got trailbuilding. He probably doesn’t know a flint from a lighter.”

Something about what he said irked me. “Dev’s supposed to be really good at camping, too.” Nowhere was it acceptable to totally contradict the guy you’re trying to flirt with when he talks about the guy you’re not supposed to like, but it was as if the impulsive part of me just didn’t care.

“Sorry, I know you guys are friends, but he doesn’t ever seem to take anything seriously except his music stuff.”

“He does. I—” I stopped myself. Why was I defending Dev, anyway? I bit my lip to keep from talking.

Kris turned to face me and looked me in the eye. “I’m different. I know what I want and go after it. I’ve been watching how you’ve changed yourself this year, and I think you’re the same as me.” He looked and sounded so confident.

Not like me. My palms were sweaty, but when he took my hand, there wasn’t any of the electric nervousness they kept talking about in books. I didn’t feel a jolt like when Dev accidentally brushed past me in the cafeteria the other day, nearly making me drop my lunch tray.

Kris leaned in, his shoulder brushing mine. “We’ve only hung out a few times, but I know you like me. You’re smart, a lot smarter than most of the people in our class.” He reached up to touch my cheek with his free hand.

He was really close. I had to tilt my head up a little bit to see his face and was only able to focus on his nose. Anything Marissa-like flew out of my head. “I’m not that smart. I mean, we have a really smart class. Everyone’s so talented in their own way and–” I was babbling. Badly. But his hand felt weird on my face. And as long as I kept talking, he couldn’t kiss me. This was like something straight out of a book and all I wanted to do was bolt out of there.

Marissa always felt like there was an irresistible force drawing her closer and closer to Cyril. Her skin would be all tingles and her heart would feel too small for her chest.

Maeve would feel so warm when Aedan was close, it was like her skin was on fire—in a good way. He’d touch her hand and shocks would travels straight up her arm and down her spine.

I felt…neither of those things.

He stuck a finger against my lips. “You’re too nice to everyone, also. It’s cute.”

He bent forward. Oh, God, he really was going to kiss me. Butterflies—no, ravenous clothes moths—took over my stomach. Did I even like him enough? I did a mental inventory of my hands, dropped my cup, and awkwardly put my free hand on his arm, just like Marissa did in the Mirrorfall scene. His chin brushed my cheek, the stubble pricking at my skin. Was he old enough for stubble? Why didn’t anyone tell me that it would feel like someone was trying to scrape your skin off with a wire brush? His eyes met mine, like he was asking for permission to kiss me.

I tried to find the gold in his eyes that reminded me of Aedan, but that wasn’t enough to make me feel the same wound-up anticipation as when I read about Aedan looking into Maeve’s eyes. But maybe we just needed to start kissing and all the feelings would start rushing in—like when Nya and Lito first kissed in Other Side. I gave the tiniest of nods and then his lips were on mine. There weren’t any fireworks. My heart didn’t jump into my throat and I definitely didn’t have the urge to pull him closer, like Maeve and Aedan in the cave scene. In fact, it was kind of soggy. And sandpapery. And incredibly uncomfortable. I tried closing my eyes, but that didn’t help. My neck hurt from tilting up to meet him.

But Kris seemed to like it. His hands slipped into my hair and he pressed his lips harder against mine. And when he tried to slip his tongue into my mouth, I pulled away as quickly as possible.