Life in the No-Dating Zone (8 page)

Gray

Amy and Nyssa hung on to me as if they were afraid I might try to escape. Pretty smart of them. We stood in front of the doughnut display counter, a warm sugary-cinnamon smell battling with Nyssa’s perfume for dominance. Too bad the perfume was winning.

“So,” Amy said, “what do you think?”

“About what?” I didn’t look at her, just stared at the doughnuts. Chocolate iced, with and without sprinkles, glazed, powdered—amazing there were still so many doughnuts in the case at almost eleven in the morning.

“What would you like?” Nyssa said. “My treat.”

Oh great. Now she wanted to buy me something. “I don’t need anything. Really. But thanks.”

“No, seriously,” she said. “Amy and I came to get doughnuts. I’m happy to get you one too.”

My phone buzzed in my shorts pocket. Probably Claire. But neither Amy nor Nyssa seemed to have heard. “Uh, hang on. Just got a text.”

I started to wriggle my arm free, but Amy held on. “It can wait. Let’s get your order first.”

This was getting irritating. “I—”

“Anything you want,” Nyssa said and smiled. Her black curls moved with almost a life of their own. Was she standing in a draft? She really
was
a nice-looking girl. Too bad I wasn’t interested.

Just make a decision and get it over with
. “A cinnamon roll, I guess.”

“Great!” Nyssa said.

Amy released me and moved toward the counter to order, but Nyssa still held on. “This is fun, isn’t it? I’m so glad we ran into you.”

Yeah, that seemed to be happening a lot lately. Was she turning into a real stalker? That would be seriously creepy. Amy swung back around. “How many glazed, Nyssa?”

“Three.” She edged forward, taking me with her. I stared back across the grocery store. Could I create some kind of distraction? Anyone I knew I could talk to? I needed to get out of there. Mrs. Nealey was going to bust an artery if I didn’t pick up Travis and Marcus on time. And I only had about twenty-five minutes left. But I’d let myself be dragged into this situation and all I could do now was wait it out.

Two gray-haired ladies in tennis dresses talked next to tables decked out with cookies, cupcakes, and loaves of bread from the bakery. Behind them, the produce section was busy with people selecting fruits and vegetables while employees scuttled through with carts of fresh stuff. I didn’t know anybody here.

I was just turning back when a sudden movement caught my attention. At first I didn’t see anyone, but then I noticed a small hunched figure on the floor near the oranges stand. It was Claire, squatting down as though she were tying her shoe. Only she was wearing sandals. I coughed to hide my laugh. What was she doing? Trying to sneak up on us?

She stood, then looked around slowly like she was waiting for a bus and was bored to death. When she saw me watching her, she raised her eyebrows and pointed at the girls behind me. I glanced at Amy and Nyssa, but they were still ordering doughnuts and probably hadn’t seen her. Not yet anyway.

Claire pointed toward the front of the grocery store. She moved her lips exaggeratedly, but I had no clue what she was saying. I shook my head and frowned, hoping she could tell I didn’t understand. She sagged her shoulders like she was sighing. The laughter I’d been fighting almost broke out again, so I cleared my throat.

Why the heck didn’t she just come over to us? It wasn’t that big of a deal. She could just let loose one of her famous explanations and— That must be it. She couldn’t think of a story to tell them. That was a first.

She gestured toward the store’s exit again. I shook my head. She pressed her palm to her forehead as though I were a complete idiot. I smiled. I couldn’t help it. The whole situation was crazy. But Claire was still trying to get me to understand. In a sudden, wild move she motioned hard to the left. Her arm connected with the biceps of a guy carrying a container full of limes, which hit the floor with an awesome racket. Limes rolled everywhere. I burst out laughing.

“What happened?” Nyssa asked.

I pulled my arm out from under hers. “Claire needs a little help.”

“Claire?”

People scrambled around picking up limes. I joined them. Claire’s face burned bright red. “I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean— It was an accident. I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right, miss,” the guy said, scooping up the limes nearest him. “Don’t worry.”

I slid in closer to Claire, who was on her hands and knees. “Nice one,” I whispered.

“Shut up,” she whispered back.

I chuckled. “At least you didn’t hit him in the face.”

She dropped two more limes in the container. “Stop laughing. It’s not funny.”

“Sorry, but it is. It really, really is.”

Her lips quirked into a smile, but she forced it away. “Just help me pick these up.”

I found one more underneath the oranges display, but with all the people chatting and lime chasing, the job was pretty much done. I helped Claire to her feet, surprised by how tightly she gripped my hand. Maybe she was more upset than she looked.

“Again,” she said to the man, “I’m so, so sorry.”

He smiled. “It’s okay, really.” He moved on, giving Claire a wide berth.

“So, Claire,” Amy said, “shopping for limes?”

Whoa. Snarky much?
We turned. Amy carried a box of doughnuts and a mocking smile.

“Yes, actually,” Claire said. “My dad wanted them.”

“Limes,” Amy said as though she didn’t believe her.

“Yeah, he loves them. He uses them in his limeade and his tea and his … beer.”

Okay. Close to rambling now. I should probably bring this show to a close
. “Well, I’ll leave you to your lime shopping. I need to pick up my brothers.”

Nyssa offered me a bag. “Don’t forget your cinnamon roll.”

“Hey, thanks a lot. See y’all later.” I stared hard at Claire for a second to make sure she understood I’d be waiting in the car. She’d drawn her brows together in a thinking frown. I hoped she got it because I really couldn’t wait long.

I headed out.

“Bye!” the girls called, but I was pretty sure Claire’s voice wasn’t among them. I waved.

Once in the car I cranked the AC to combat the oven-like heat and checked the time. I had eighteen minutes. Plenty of time if Claire could get there fast. Just then, Amy and Nyssa came out of the store and looked around. I slumped down in my seat. Could they possibly know what kind of car I drove? They headed across the parking lot. Toward me. I’d parked pretty far away, but if they kept going they were going to see me.

Fourteen

Gray

What could I say if they came over? I was supposed to be in a hurry. I slumped down farther in the driver’s seat.
Right, Gray. Like they’re not going to notice a driverless car idling in the parking lot.
There was only one thing to do. I’d have to leave, then come back and pick up Claire.

But just as I was about to put the car in first gear, the girls veered off toward a different row.
Whew
. I slid the shift into neutral. Then took out my toy pull-back-and-go car and let it spin.

C’mon, Claire, get out here.

And, as if responding to my Jedi summons, Claire came out of the store, swinging a plastic grocery sack. A dark blue Ford honked as it drove by and she waved. Man, I hoped that was Amy and Nyssa. It’d be better if they didn’t see where she went. She speed-walked to my car and got in.

For half a second we just stared at each other, then we both busted out laughing. And Claire’s laugh didn’t match her petite body. No delicate, feminine laugh for her. Instead, it was a loud, belly-clinching sound. Which only made me laugh harder.

“Guess your dad really likes limes,” I said, once the laughter had drifted away.

She held up the bag. “He’d better. I bought twenty of them ’cause I felt so guilty.”

I suddenly realized I was sitting there with a toy car in between my fingers.
No sudden moves, Gray. Just slide it into your pocket. Yup. Almost there. And—

“What’s with the tiny car?” Claire asked.

Great. So much for stealth. “Nothing.”

“I’ve seen you play with it before.”

I put the
real
car in gear and drove out of the parking lot. “It helps me think.”

“Oh.”

She inhaled sharply like she was about launch into questions. But I felt stupid enough as it was. New subject. “That was absolutely crazy. Why didn’t you come over to us?”

“Because I couldn’t think of anything to say.”

“That’s what I thought.”

She covered her glasses with her hands for a couple of seconds. “I can’t believe that whole thing happened. Everything had been so perfect. Why did you let them take you into the store, anyway?”

“What was I going to do, yank my arms away? They just wanted to buy me a doughnut.” I motioned to the small bag on the cup holder. “Want some cinnamon roll?”

“Yes.” She grabbed the bag and ripped off a chunk from the pastry. “Watch the road.”

“I am. Didn’t you eat breakfast?”

“Yeah, but something about covert operations makes me ravenous.”

I laughed. “Covert operations? What, are we spies now?”

“And that’s another thing,” she said through a mouthful, “who goes to the grocery store to buy doughnuts? Why not Krispy Kreme or Dunkin’ Donuts?”

“Don’t talk with food in your mouth,” I said in my best Claire imitation, which was a high-pitched girly voice.

“Ha, ha. No, really. They must have seen you and made that story up.”

I stopped at a red light. “You don’t think they followed us this morning, do you?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. They probably had your house staked out.”

“They couldn’t have. It’s too insane.”

“I don’t know. I wouldn’t put it past Amy.”

The light changed and I drove on. “Yeah, she does seem kind of psycho.”

We drove in silence for a couple more minutes, Claire happily eating most of my cinnamon roll. “Ugh,” she said, “now I’m thirsty.”

I pointed to a can of Coke from yesterday. “I think there’s some left of that.”

“Eww. No, thanks. We’re almost to my house—I can survive until then. Tell me about talking to Lindsey.”

“I oozed charm.”

She laughed. “No, really. It looked like you had a little trouble at first.”

I turned the car onto Claire’s street. “Of course I did. I mean, she’s Lindsey Taylor.”

“The most intimidating girl in town.”

“But once we got started it was good.”

“Glad to hear it. Now we need y’all to hang out together.”

I pulled over in front of her house. “How’re we gonna do that?”

“I don’t know yet. I need to call and see what she’s got going on. When do you work?”

“Tonight, tomorrow night, and Saturday afternoon.” I bit into the last quarter piece of the cinnamon roll. “When does Adam get back?”

“Late Sunday night, I think.” Claire licked one of her fingers. She had crumbs on her lips and almost a full icing mustache.

“You know, for such a careful eater you’re making one holy mess.”

“Some things are just meant to be eaten that way,” she said, but pulled a tissue out of her purse and wiped her face. “Don’t worry. I’ll get the crumbs off the seat.”

She still had a smudge of icing at the corner of her mouth. “You missed a spot.”

“Where?”

She started to pull down the visor to look in the mirror, but I spoke without thinking. “I’ll get it.”

“I can—”

“No, it’s okay.” And as I reached for her face, a voice screamed in my head.
What are you doing? You’re about to touch a girl’s face! The wrong girl’s face.
But it was too late. My hand was already there. I brushed at the icing with my thumb. And, of course, I brushed it toward her lips. What guy wouldn’t?

Claire’s breath puffed out across my fingers, but I didn’t make eye contact. I couldn’t. I was too focused on her lips. They were seriously soft. I wanted to run my thumb back and forth across them. But no way. I couldn’t. At least I had enough mental capacity to realize that. But not much more.

The moment stretched out. It was probably only a few seconds, but it felt longer. She finally pulled away from my hand—not far, like she was mad or anything, just an inch or so. “Did you get it?” she asked, a slight squeak to her voice.

“Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “But you’ll probably want to wash your face.”

“Thanks. I’d better go.”

“Okay.”

“Oh. I almost forgot.” She handed me a DVD box from her purse. “Your homework.”

Homework? What was she talking about? I needed to stop staring at her mouth. “
The Phantom of the Opera?
”

“It’s Lindsey’s favorite musical. There’s a CD in there too.”

Lindsey?
Yes, Lindsey, you idiot. The girl you’re supposedly in love with.
“I don’t even know if we have a CD player in the house.”

Claire opened the door. “Well, if you do, you can get more familiar with the music. She’ll be impressed. I promise.”

“If you say so.”

She got out and brushed crumbs off the seat. “I’ll text you when I know anything.”

“Okay.”

“Bye.”

“See ya.”

Claire went toward the house, her hair swinging as she walked. I’d never realized how long it was—all the way to the middle of her back. She usually wore it in a ponytail. The door closed behind her with a sturdy thump. I jerked, then rubbed my forehead with the heel of my hand. Why was I noticing her hair? It was the wrong hair. Wrong color. Wrong girl.

Lindsey. This was all about Lindsey. That’s why I was spending so much time with Claire. I’d just gotten used to her, that’s all. It only made sense I’d start noticing things about her. But she wasn’t Lindsey. And now that I might have a chance to start a relationship with Lindsey, I wasn’t about to blow it by staring at some other girl’s hair or body.

Or by thinking about her soft lips.

I drove away, wishing I’d never touched her.

Fifteen