Hot Page 6

  “Have fun,” Mrs. Hornung says. “If the movie is too awful, you can always come into the family room and watch TV with us, Lindsey.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Hornung.” I laugh. “I might need to take you up on that.” I like her. I see where Noah gets his ability to make people feel comfortable.

  “You at least have to watch all of MD2. We’re having a double feature you know. Mighty Ducks 3 is just waiting over here.” Noah points to the top of the TV where the DVD case sits and elbows me. His mom smiles as she turns to go.

  As soon as we’re alone, Noah turns to me. “Want something to drink?”

  “No thanks.” I shrug and plop onto the love seat.

  “They’re funny.” He shakes his head.

  “All parents are.” I laugh. “Where’s Adam?”

  “He’s at Colt’s house or somewhere. I don’t really remember. I just know I finally get you all to myself.” He leans toward me and brushes my lips with his just like the other time. He tastes cold and sharp and sweet like the gum I always smell on his breath.

  He leans back and looks me right in the eyes. My neck muscles don’t seem capable of holding his gaze. There is less than a centimeter separating our faces. Our noses bump, and I laugh.

  “Quack, quack, quack.” Noah dims the lights and pushes Play.

  The movie is on, but I couldn’t care less about the kids on ice. I want Noah to kiss me again. I listen to his breathing. His fingers reach out and curl around mine. It’s dark like a real movie theater in here. He wiggles my fingers slightly, like a tickle. I feel his thigh against mine. A few minutes later he leans into my ear and whispers, “Are you ready for a drink yet?”

  I turn to answer, but when I do my face is in his face. I bite my lip. I shake my head, but his mouth is on my mouth, and we’re kissing, and his hands slide on my back, holding me close to him. I feel like I’m flying, and he’s warm and intoxicating. He leans his chest against mine, so I’m sandwiched between the couch and Noah, like a piece of paper slid under a paperweight, protected from the wind so I won’t blow away. And we kiss and we kiss and we kiss, and his lips are warm and wet, and his hands slide under my T-shirt to the small of my back. They feel like fire against my skin. I hear footsteps, and I pull back to end the kiss but end up embedding myself in a jumble of couch cushions.

  Noah must hear the footsteps too.

  He exhales. “Wow.” He shakes himself and stands.

  I’m breathing more heavily than when I finish a dance routine.

  “I’ll go get some Gatorade.” Noah’s cheeks are flushed as he walks out of the room.

  “You two doing okay?” I hear Mrs. Hornung ask him in the kitchen.

  I’m thankful for a moment to myself. I sit up as straight as I can and smooth out my cardigan. I retuck my top into my cords. My headband is around my neck. I slide it back into place and bob my knee up and down as I look around the room. I’m disoriented. I’ve never felt anything like that in my life. I turn the dimmer switch to full wattage to snap myself out of my reverie. How long were we kissing? I have no idea what’s going on in the movie, and I have to go to the bathroom. I wish Noah were back. I feel conspicuously alone in his house. What if one of his parents walks in? What would I say? Would they know what we’ve been doing? I try to watch the movie but can’t focus my eyes or thoughts. My brain teems with mouths and heat and Noah’s weight against me.

  “I thought I’d grab some chips and salsa too. Why don’t you push Pause and keep me company in the kitchen?” Noah’s silhouette fills the doorway.

  I jump at his voice. “Sure.” I fumble for the remote and press Pause, not able to think of anything funny or coy as a reply. What do you say to someone after they’ve kissed you like that?

  “Actually, could you show me where the bathroom is?”

  “Right down there.” Noah points down the hall.

  “Thanks.” I walk into the burgundy powder room and close the door. A grouping of three paintings of wild ducks hangs on the wall, and ducks are embroidered into the beige towels. It’s so dark and men’s-clubbish. I laugh. I guess decor is a little different when it’s three guys and one girl in the house, versus our three girls and Dad. I look in the mirror. I expect my image to betray my kissing frenzy. But my hair isn’t mussed, and except for my bare lips where my lip gloss has been smooched, I look pretty normal. I use the restroom, extremely conscious of the noise of the flushing toilet and the faucet as I wash my hands with a bar of lemon-and-thyme-scented soap. I reapply the lip gloss I had safely stashed in my pocket and take a deep breath. I’m starting to feel normal again.

  Ta tatatat ta! The friendly sound of chips tumbling into a bowl fills the fluorescent-lighted kitchen. Noah’s mom chats on the phone and smiles at me, then turns and walks out with the white cordless.

  “Would you grab the salsa?” Noah asks, motioning to a jar on the counter. “I’ve always loved this movie,” he says, carrying the bowl of chips and a tall glass with ice clanking against its sides back into the den, “but I don’t remember it being sooo . . .” He stops and turns so that he’s directly in front of me. “Exciting.” He playfully nips at my lips, the quickest kiss, and then another and another as if he’s going for the world’s record for fastest consecutive kisses.

  I laugh out loud and fall back into the couch. I’m relieved he doesn’t revert the lighting back to the secretive dusk. We watch the rest of the movie and the next one too with our heads at separate ends of the couch and our stocking feet entwined with each other. We giggle and chat and play footsie while the Mighty Ducks win yet another championship game.

  “I’ll walk you home.” Noah shoves his hands in his pockets.

  “Great.” All of a sudden I’m exhausted. My eyelids fight to stay open.

  We walk the long way home along the sidewalks, under the streetlights around to my house. The crisp air gives me a second wind.

  “So, three games this weekend?” I ask.

  “Yeah, the other team’s decent, but we’re better. We should win if we keep our heads on straight.”

  “I wish I could come.” I watch his Nikes slap the cement.

  “These are too far away.” He slips off my mitten and weaves his fingers in mine. “Next week, we’re home.”

  “Cool. I’ll have to perform at the basketball game on Friday, but I could come on Saturday. Do you play on Saturday?” I ask, feeling stupid for not knowing his schedule.

  “You won’t miss anything on Friday. We have the night off. And yes, always on Saturdays.”

  We walk in silence for a few minutes, but it’s not awkward. For once, I’m not scanning my head for conversation. I’m just enjoying the warmth of his hand on mine, the sound of our footsteps, and the idea that I’m Noah’s girlfriend.

  When we reach my house, he stops before I can climb the three steps to my front porch. Our outside house light streams on us like a spotlight.

  “I burned a CD for you.” He slides a disc out of his jacket like a magician.

  I reach out for the circle, as if it’s an enchanted stone or a magic wand and I’m sizing up its powers.

  “Thanks.”

  His lips are on mine again, and not for just a second this time. They linger and hold my lips. Just as I feel all warm and giddy, he pulls away.

  “I’ll watch you in.”

  I can’t speak. He keeps taking me by surprise. Surprised by his kiss, surprised by his pulling away, surprised by the CD, surprised by his finality of the evening. I feel like I’m in a Ping-Pong match watching the ball go back and forth, from him being as nervous and excited as I am to him being totally in control. Thank goodness he is, because I am not. I’m not in control at all.

  “Good luck tomorrow.” I smile.

  “Thanks, Linds. G’night.”

  “Good night.” Ten feet separates us, now twenty, now I’m touching my door, and he’s standing like a statue, watching over me.

  I play the CD while I get ready for bed. The first song is “Hey There Delilah”
by the Plain White T’s. I sit on the edge of my bed, absorbing every note and word as if Noah were serenading me. Tomorrow, I’ll load it onto my computer and update my iPod. I brush my teeth to “Perfect” by the Smashing Pumpkins. I wash my face to “I’ve Just Seen a Face” sung by Jim Sturgess. I turn down the volume way low, so I can drift into my dreams as Lenny Kravitz chants “I’ll Be Waiting.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  My dream state lingers all week. I listen to the songs Noah burned over and over again, as if he’s burned them into my heart. They’re intense and full of passion.

  “I still can’t believe he made this for me,” I tell my friends over lunch on Friday.

  “Sounds like true love,” Emma growls, not even looking up from her nachos. “Do ya think we could talk about something other than Noah? Anything?”

  Ouch. I feel like I’ve nicked myself shaving.

  Raven must also feel the sting in Emma’s remark. “Seriously, Linds. He’s really into you. Everyone knows Noah isn’t like this for girls.”

  I swish her words around in my mouth. I have so many questions about that comment. Like, what girls isn’t he like this for? Were there other girls who were into him, but he didn’t fall for? Has he told the hockey team I’m his girlfriend? Does Raven know because Randy’s told her? It sounds like it when she uses words like “everyone.”

  I don’t want to sound stupid, so I just ask, “Like what?”

  “You know, all Romeo. It’s not like you’re the first girl to like him. The team would die if they knew he made you a CD.” Raven dips one of Emma’s chips into the neon orange cheese sauce. “But, you’re the first girl he likes back.”

  I’m so nervous inside it’s hard to remember to eat. I look at the slice of pizza on my tray with only one bite taken out of it. I nod and take a big bite, but as I chew I wonder where Noah is in the cafeteria and if he wonders where I am.

  Peter lumbers over with Randy, who thwaps Raven in the head with a notebook.

  “Ouch.” She turns and sticks her tongue out at him.

  Two strong arms circle me from behind.

  “I know you’re coming to my game tomorrow, so I thought I’d come to the basketball game tonight and watch you dance.” Noah’s lips brush against my ear as he whispers.

  My face feels as hot as if it were directly under one of those air dryers in the ladies’ room.

  “And the dance after the game?” I ask, hanging the question I’ve been contemplating all week in the air.

  “The dance?” Noah releases me, chomps a bite of my pizza, and then hands it to me. “You mean, here in the cafeteria? That dance? Do you girls dance?” he asks the table.

  “Darlin’, you haven’t seen anything until you’ve seen us dance.” Melissa, who’s usually so quiet, lights up when it comes to dancing. I love that about her!

  “Y’all have gotta be better than Peter and Noah.” Randy laughs. “These boys can’t feel the beat.”

  “Sounds like we’ll have to have a dance contest.” Gracie smiles.

  “I’m in, but just as a judge.” Noah laughs. “I’ll leave the cha-cha-cha-ing up to you!” He pecks me on the cheek and stands up. “See ya tonight, ladies.” He winks and walks away with his friends.

  My skin tingles, like I’ve just applied astringent on my face.

  “See ya tonight, ladies,” Emma echoes in a high-pitched nasally voice.

  I don’t know why she’s being cruel, but I can’t take it. “What’s up, Em? Something bugging you?”

  “Yeah, Miss Perfect. It may be all well and good that Prince Charming is singing you love songs and ready to dance with you at the royal ball, but it’s not like that for all of us ugly stepsisters.”

  My anger turns to confusion. “Em?” I ask. The rest of the table is silent. Emma and I go way back. This is our battle.

  Emma slouches in her chair with her eyes averted to the floor.

  “Em?” I ask again. She doesn’t answer. “First of all, you are not an ugly stepsister. You are beautiful and talented, and I would kill for your hair! Secondly, if you don’t speak, Ariel, we’ll never know which prince you want to dance with.”

  Emma’s lips curl in the slightest smile. She always pretended she was the Little Mermaid when we were little. Her eyes, however, stay focused on the dingy floor.

  “Well, Peter is fairly cute, and I thought we kind of hit it off when the two of us defaulted on your and Noah’s parade,” she spits out the real issue, then shrugs. Fire creeps across her pale skin to match her hair.

  “You like Peter!” Raven practically screams.

  Emma rolls her eyes.

  “Okay, girls.” Gracie steps in. “This is the deal.” She shifts her gaze around the table to recruit us into her plan. “We need to get Emma and Peter alone at the dance. Peter’s kind of quiet, and he always seems glued to Noah.” Gracie narrows her black eyes. “So, let’s push Lindsey and Noah together and off to the side. That gives Linds some time with her new flame, but more importantly, by getting Noah away from the crowd, it will give us a chance to nudge Peter toward Emma. It at least gives them a shot.” She wiggles her lower jaw back and forth. “Melissa, Raven, and I have to forfeit our own love lives — at least until we get Peter to dance with you, Emma.”

  “What love life?” Raven picks up the remains of her lunch and takes it over to the trash can.

  “Poor, Rav.” I sigh dramatically. “The most athletic, exotic beauty in school with the enchanting drawl of a Southern belle. We really feel sorry for you.” I place my arm across my face in mock pity.

  “Well, someone has to get the scholarships and play for the Olympic team.” Raven flashes a huge smile. “I guess it’s all about sacrifice, just like Scarlett O’Hara.” She sits back down at the table.

  “Okay, Miss O’Hara.” Melissa giggles at Raven, then turns to the rest of us. “We need a plan.”

  “We have to sit with the dance team for the first half of the game. We perform at halftime.” I take a sip of Diet Coke. “Mel and I can meet up with you during the second half, but I’ll need a major shower and primp session before the dance.”

  “After third quarter we’ll hit the locker room.” Melissa nods.

  “What are you wearing?” Gracie asks.

  “I have this completely wild top I tricked my dad into paying for.” Emma leans back in her chair.

  The bell rings. I love my friends, but I think I might really love Noah. In the middle of lunch in front of all the school, did he really put his arms around me? Did he really just take a bite of my pizza? Only people in my family do that! The dance is just hours away, and I have to perform before then.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Beep beep beep.

  I open the microwave and pull out my leftover pasta. Kristine walks into the kitchen smelling like an ashtray.

  “Make some for me, too?” she asks.

  “Sure. What time do you have to be at the game?”

  “I don’t know. Six?” She stretches in a big yawn, which somehow accentuates her perfect body. “You?”

  “Not until six thirty for inspection. We have to be in the gym at seven when the varsity game starts.” I open the microwave, pull out my pasta, and put a plate in for Kristine. “Are you going to the dance?”

  “Mom thinks I am.” Kristine plops on a barstool and clanks a fork on the counter. “But I think Wes and I are going to find a place to be alone. You know?”

  “Mmmm.” I nod, keeping my back to her. I can guess what they’ll do in their alone space, wherever that is. I think of Noah’s body pressing against mine on his couch. I flash to Pastor Ed’s match. I feel woozy.

  “How are things with your hotshot hockey player?” Steam pours over Kristine’s face as she lifts the plastic wrap from her plate. It veils her expression.

  “Good.” I can’t conceal my grin. I sit down next to her and taste a bite of pasta layered with tangy artichokes and sundried tomatoes. “We’re meeting at the dance.”

  “I know it’s
kind of weird to talk about . . .” Kristine looks at me. “But if you’re going to sleep with him or if you already are, you really need to use protection.”

  “I’m not going to — it’s not, it’s not like that,” I stammer. My face feels enveloped in steam too, but not from my pasta.

  “Alright.” Kristine shrugs. “If I were you, I’d want to get my hands all over that hot hockey bod. But when it is like that, let me know. I’ll help you get what you need. Okay?”

  I know Kristine is trying to be big sisterly and look out for me. She’s clearly not waiting until she’s married. Is Wes the right guy for her? Why and when did she decide to give up her virginity to him? Or did she sleep with someone else before him? I’m half-tempted to ask her what sex is like, but then I envision Ed’s fire and say a quick prayer under my breath. Dear God, please keep Kristine from getting burned. I feel the invisible imprints Noah’s hands left on my back and stand to get a fork.

  “Okay,” I answer.

  At school I rush into the music room with a plate of brownies. The thick cloud of aerosol hairspray and boot polish makes me cough.

  “Wow, the Barbie doll brought in brownies,” Jill announces to the team. I bite my tongue. It’s not worth snapping back at her.

  Girls crowd around the plate and thank me. I grab two brownies and scan the room for Melissa. She’s in the corner, zipping her boots.

  “Hey.” She smiles.

  “Want one?” I ask, holding out a brownie.

  “No thanks. If there are any left, I’ll have one afterward.” She switches feet. “My luck, I’d get brownie all over my uniform and not pass inspection.”

  I look over to the swarm. “The odds of you getting one afterward look slim.” I smile, but I don’t want to push her. Melissa has enough issues with food. She doesn’t need me complicating things for her. The rich fudgy smell wafting from the napkin is too enticing for me. I take a gooey, chocolaty bite.

  “Mmmmmm. So . . .” I finish chewing my brownie. “I’ve been in such a rush to get dressed and polish my boots and iron and bake, I’m a little nervous.” I place my hand on my chest. “I can’t get my heart to slow down.”