Call the Shots (Swim the Fly #3)(31)

Nessa brushes past me and steps into my bedroom. She looks down at the floor, surveying all of the donated baby stuff. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually been in your bedroom before.” She turns her head and shoots me a coy smile. “At least not while you were home.”

“You think I don’t know that you and Cathy go through my stuff when I’m not around?”

Nessa laughs, running a finger along the partially built crib. “Just a few times. Let me tell you, we got bored pretty fast, Sean. No porn magazines under the mattress. No pot or cigarettes tucked in any of your jacket pockets. Not even a journal with angry diatribes about how your sister and her best friend sneak into your room and look at all your shit. What’s up with that?”

“Sorry to disappoint. So, what do you want?”

She slinks over and stops just a few inches from me. “Do you mean right now or in the grand scheme of things?” Her breath is warm and smells like Good & Plenty.

I take a step back. “You said you wanted to talk to me? What about?”

“Here’s the thing.” Nessa reaches out and casually closes my bedroom door. “I guess . . . I’ve always just thought of you as Cathy’s little brother.”

“Except that we’re twins, remember? Same age.”

“Yeah, no, I know.” She smiles, her eyes cast down. “It’s weird, I just . . . seeing you in your band . . . It was like . . . I don’t know. I saw you differently is all. I can’t really explain it.”

I glance over at the door. “Why’d you shut that?”

“Your mom’s home.” She laughs. “I told her I needed to talk to you about Chemistry.”

I give her an are-you-serious look. “You and Cathy are in AP everything. My mom knows I’m not in AP anything.”

Nessa shrugs. “She didn’t seem to notice.” She takes a step toward me, closing the gap again. Her licorice breath is warm on my face. “Look, why are we talking about your mom? That’s kind of a mood killer, don’tcha think?”

I take another step back and find I’m up against the wall, pinned between the closed door and the footboard of my bed. “What mood?” Jeez Louise, she’s acting bizarre. More bizarre than usual. Whatever this is, I bet Cathy’s behind it.

Of course, that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve got a wizard’s staff trying to make its presence known in my boxers right now.

“Okay, look.” Nessa shakes her head. “I’m not saying this the right way. I think what it is . . . Seeing you playing the keyboards so confidently . . . It was the first time I sort of considered you . . . separate from Cathy. Does that make sense?”

“Sure. All right. Sounds good.” I turn my head, plotting an escape route over the bed. “Look, I’ve got to get back to work, so —”

Then, out of the blue, Nessa puts her hands on my face, turns my head toward her, and leans in to kiss me.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I wiggle free from Nessa’s grasp, leap onto my bed, scramble across the covers, and roll off the other side. “What the hell’s going on?”

Once upon a time, way back in seventh grade, I would have offered up my first-edition Star Wars comics for the chance to get a kiss from Nessa. But that was a long, long time ago. In a galaxy far, far away. Before Nessa and all of her friends were assimilated by the Borg.

Right now the only person I want a kiss from is Leyna, despite what the fully extended lightsaber in my jeans might be saying.

“Sorry,” she says, shaking her head. “I just . . . I couldn’t help myself. I don’t know what came over me. Please don’t tell Cathy, okay? She wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh, so I’m supposed to believe Cathy knows nothing about this?”

“You think your sister would be cool with me wanting to make out with you?” Nessa laughs. “Doubtful.” She points to one of the daggers hanging on my wall. “Cool main gauche. I don’t remember seeing that last time I was in here.”

“I got it for Christmas.” I look at her suspiciously. “How do you know what that is?”

“A Renaissance parrying dagger. I’m a big fan of sharp objects. I’ve got a few knives myself. So.” She spins around and makes her way toward my desk. “What were you so busy with that you didn’t want to answer your door?”

“Nothing. It’s not —” I reach out to stop her but it’s too late.

“I didn’t know you wrote, Sean.” She’s bent over and peering at my laptop screen.

I don’t know if she’s giving me this view of her butt on purpose, but either way the stretched-tight pockets on her black jeans have me mesmerized.

“A horror movie. Cool.” Nessa glances over her shoulder. “Are you taking Mr. Coozman’s creative-writing class?”

“It’s not for school,” I say, my voice an octave higher than normal. I clear my throat and force my tone deeper. “It’s just something I’m fooling with.”

“Okay, well.” Nessa glances back at the computer. “Would you mind if I offered a little constructive criticism?”

“I know, it sucks.” I walk over to the desk and shut my laptop screen.

Nessa places her hand on top of mine. My knees buckle, but I catch myself.