Red(17)

But it wasn’t a squirrel—it was a football player. Just as Felicity reached the window, all 180 pounds of Brent tumbled over the sill headfirst and landed directly on top of her. She tried to scream, but all the air had been knocked from her body, and no sound came out. The book skidded ineffectually across the floor.

Felicity struggled out from under her boyfriend. “God, Brent, you scared the crap out of me.”

He grinned. “Sorry, babe. I wanted to surprise you. I didn’t think you’d be right there.”

“You either have to call first or use the front door, okay?”

“I can’t use the front. If your mom knows I’m here, she won’t let us close your door, and I wanna be alone with you.” He flopped down on her polka-dotted bedspread with his shoes on and held out his arms. “C’mere. I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

Felicity made sure her door was shut tightly, then went over and sat on the bed. Brent pulled her down next to him and kissed her, then wrapped both arms around her and settled her head onto his chest. She allowed herself to be embraced, and despite her annoyance, she felt herself relaxing. Her head fit so perfectly into the little dip next to his collarbone. Their legs tangled together in a reassuring, familiar way. One of Brent’s hands rested on her hip, and the other twined through her hair. She closed her eyes and listened to the slow, even thump of his heart.

It was nice, just lying there with him. Brent was perfect when he wasn’t talking, and for a little while, Felicity felt safe and comfortable and content. But soon she felt his breathing start to deepen, and she realized he was falling asleep. She knew he had good reason to be tired—he got up super early for football practice, and he often went to the gym after school, too. But now she wasn’t sure whether he’d been seeking a girlfriend or a body pillow when he’d climbed through her window.

She squirmed around and repositioned her head, hoping the movement would wake him. “We picked the pieces for the art show today,” she said, a little louder than necessary.

Brent’s yawn was so wide it made Felicity think of a snake preparing to swallow its prey whole. “Oh yeah?” he mumbled.

She told him about the submissions—with the exception of the hyenas, of course—and he made noises that indicated he was listening as he stroked her hair. But when she was done talking, he just yawned again and said, “You smell so good.”

She wasn’t sure why she still tried to talk about art with Brent. He had never made an insightful comment on the subject or even asked a question. Felicity always told herself that he wasn’t uninterested in what she did. He was the kind of person who thought in sports metaphors, and he just didn’t know what to ask. Unfortunately, these rationalizations didn’t make her feel any better today. Spending the afternoon with someone who understood art—and seemed to understand her just from looking at what she’d created—had been such a new and enlightening experience. It made Brent’s disinterest seem even more unsatisfying by comparison.

She wished she could at least tell her boyfriend about the hyenas, which she couldn’t seem to banish from her mind. What should she say to Gabby tomorrow? Would she be able to shut down the blackmail scheme before the rest of the school saw her and her best friends depicted as mangy scavengers? If she managed to get her blackmailers to back off, how could she pull the painting from the show without making Jonathan think she was a coward?

But of course, she couldn’t talk about any of that. She sighed. “What’s up with you?” she asked, hoping Brent would come up with a good story to distract her.

“Not too much. Carson and I totally slaughtered Tim and Damien at two-on-two basketball in PE. And Carson and Damien made this bet that whoever lost had to drink six cartons of chocolate milk in ten minutes at lunch. Damien almost did it, but he puked in the courtyard after five. It was so hilarious.”

This wasn’t really the kind of story Felicity had in mind, so she interrupted her boyfriend with a slow, soft kiss. Brent responded eagerly, and within moments, he was running his hands all over her body. Felicity closed her eyes, relieved to be able to switch off her brain for a while.

Half an hour later, she snapped back to reality at the sound of her mom’s voice shouting from downstairs. “Felicity! I need you to take out the recycling!”

She swore under her breath. “Give me a couple minutes, Mom!”

“Now, Felicity. If you put it off any longer, I’m coming up there and dumping these cans in your bed!”

Felicity scrambled to her feet, flushed and disheveled. She couldn’t have her mom bursting in while Brent was there. “You have to go before she finds you,” she whispered, tugging her T-shirt back into place.

Brent groaned, but he didn’t argue. “See you tomorrow,” he said. He kissed her one last time. “You are seriously so awesome.”

“Felicity, you have thirty seconds to get down here!” shouted Ginger.

“See you,” Felicity whispered. “Come on, you have to go now.”

Brent’s exit was much more graceful than his entrance. As he started down the tree, Felicity dashed to the mirror and smoothed her rumpled hair and clothes. She hoped her mom wouldn’t notice how pink her cheeks were.

Feeling a tiny bit hollow, she watched from the window as Brent sprinted across the lawn and out the back gate.