Complete Nothing (True Love #2)(71)

After what seemed like forever and also like five seconds, he started to walk me backward, inching his feet one at a time toward his bed.

Suddenly my brain started working again.

I couldn’t let him get me to the bed. If I let him get me to the bed, that was like saying I was open to doing things that I wasn’t entirely sure I was open to doing. Things I’d never even done with Peter.

Peter. My heart stopped when my brain landed on his name.

I pulled my lips away from Keegan’s. At that moment, the sides of my T-shirt were clenched in his fists at either hip, exposing a strip of skin above my waistband. He looked me up and down like I was the single sexiest being on the face of the planet, and for that split second, I wanted to say, Oh, who cares? again.

But I didn’t.

“Wait,” I said instead.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” he rasped, although I could tell in his eyes that he was hoping there wasn’t anything I didn’t want to do.

“No, it’s not that.” Even though it was. And now I had to figure out exactly what it was. My eyes fell on my bag, which was now behind him. “I wanted to ask you . . . before I forget . . .”

I went to my backpack and bent down self-consciously to pull the ticket out of the back zipper pocket. Putting distance between us, even momentarily, felt good. I felt solid again. Like I could think straight.

“Do you—I mean—would you . . .”

The ticket fluttered in my trembling hand. Apparently my mouth was not keeping up with my brain.

“Would you come to my recital on Friday night?” I asked. And I held my breath.

Keegan glanced at the ticket. His face was blank. It was as if he’d never seen a ticket before in his life and didn’t know whether he was supposed to take it from me, swat it to the ground like a bug, or crumple it up and eat it. After a long, breathy pause, he finally plucked it from my fingers.

“Sure,” he said. “I’d love to.”

The force of my elation hit me so hard I was shocked. I didn’t know until that very second how much it meant to me that he say yes. And when he did, I wanted to throw myself into his arms.

So I did.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Anytime,” he replied, touching his lips to mine. “I bet it’s awesome, watching you dance.” He moved my hair behind my shoulder, and his expression turned serious. “I bet you’re the most beautiful dancer there is.”

Everything inside me went liquid, molten and hot. “Really?”

He nodded, as if he was so taken, so emotional, so aroused, I guess, he could no longer speak. So I sat down on the bed and looked him in the eye. And after that, there was no need for either one of us to speak at all.





CHAPTER FORTY-NINE


Peter


“How long do we have to do this for?”

Big Tom, the elderly man across the serving table from us, shot me a look like Who the hell is this girl? Honestly, I was right there with him. Ever since the moment we’d walked through the door of my church’s basement, where the soup kitchen was located, Josie had been whining. Whining about the smells, whining about the people, whining about having to stand the whole time. Unbelievable.

I carefully ladled mashed potatoes onto Tom’s plate.

“Enjoy, Tom.”

“Have a good night, kid,” he replied. But he looked like he couldn’t imagine how I possibly would.

I waited for him to lumber away to the gravy bowl before I turned to Josie. “I told you. Gavin and I signed us up for a two-hour shift.”

“Two whole hours?” she moaned, bending slightly at the waist. She was wearing a white tank top with her breasts pushed up inside it, and tiny blue shorts, her long hair tied into two braids. Every male in the room, from the homeless family men to the other youth group volunteers to the ancient security guard in the corner, had checked her out at one point or another. It wasn’t like I was going to tell anyone how to dress, but if she thought that was an appropriate outfit for volunteering . . . well, she was wrong.

“Why don’t you talk to some people?” I said. “Have some fun.”

“Fun?” she griped, staring down at the salad tray. “This place is a crap hole. No one has fun in a crap hole.”

Marcy Fiore happened to be walking by with a full tray of chicken at that exact moment. I swear I thought she was going to dump the whole thing over Josie’s head. I took Josie’s wrist and steered her a few feet away toward the dessert table.

“Tara’s having a good time,” I pointed out, nodding across the room where Tara Schwartz was hanging out with a whole troop of little kids. It looked like they were playing duck-duck-goose, laughing in a circle on the linoleum floor. Over at the far end of the serving table, Gavin talked with a couple of younger guys in construction gear. His eyes darted to Tara, and he smiled. I hadn’t smiled once since we’d picked Josie up.

“Well, Tara’s an idiot,” Josie said. She wrapped both her arms around one of mine and pulled me toward her chest. “Let’s get out of here. We can go get some food, maybe head back to the playground.” She tipped her head up, resting her chin near my shoulder and blinking up at me suggestively. For the first time I noticed how fake her huge eyelashes looked. Maybe they were fake.