Promposal (11 page)

He nodded. “Same. But the fighting was the hardest part for me. I knew it was fake, but I still got caught up in it a couple of times.”

“Me too. I even found my body starting to do the fight-or-flight response.”

Thinking of our fake fights made me think of . . . I saw his gaze drop down to my mouth for a split second. The pulse in my throat stuttered. I knew what he was thinking about right now, could tell by the way his pupils flared.

Sure didn't look like regret in his eyes right now.

My lips parted on their own, and I swallowed. Drew in a steadying breath and tried to focus on something else. “Um. So, reading anything good?” I asked with a nod toward the thin paperback in his lap.

“
The Outsiders
,” he said as he held it up.

“Oh, cool. I read that one. ‘Stay gold, Ponyboy,' ” I quipped.

He gave me a crooked smile, and my heart flipped in my chest. “This is one of my favorite books.”

“What makes you like reading so much?” I mean, I liked books too, but Benjamin seemed to devour them like they were oxygen.

He paused, lips pressed as he thought. “I enjoy diving into other worlds, I guess. I like experiencing life through someone else's point of view. I like books that challenge me—banned books, edgy books, ones that make you stop and think.”

Funny how talking about books made him open up more. A
smile crept along my face. “You make me want to run to the library right now.”

“Schoolwork is overrated.”

“I'll say.”

There was another pause between us, but this one felt comfortable. Our shared smiles were easy and relaxed. Finally, Benjamin glanced down at his paper. Cleared his throat. “Well. Our conversations derail off-topic far too easily.”

“Guess we should stop being so engaging.” I grinned, and he did the same.

The bell rang.

“Okay, folks,” Mrs. Brandwright called out over the sound of people gathering their stuff to run out of class. “Make sure you guys find time outside of class to wrap up your discussions, please. I'll see you tomorrow.”

Neither Benjamin nor I moved. Just sat in place as the room emptied around us.

“We should finish this soon,” I said.

“Yes.”

“When are you free?” My heart began to beat hard against my rib cage.

“Tonight?”

“Sure. Yeah. Let's do that. Then we can get it done.” Gah, I couldn't stop my bobblehead nodding or verbal vomiting.

He gave me that sexy crooked grin as he stood, and my heart raced harder. “I'll call you later to finalize details.”

We gathered our stuff and headed out of class. It felt like my body was homed to him; I was aware of how far behind me he stood, the soft rasps of his breath. My cheeks burned, and my hands trembled.

I practically ran to my locker, then flicked it open and stuck my head inside.
Knock it off,
I ordered myself.
Stop being such a doofus around him.
I dragged in a few slow breaths, then withdrew my head and gathered my stuff.

Now to go home, finish my homework, and find the perfect casual outfit that screams “sexy” but doesn't try too hard. Yeah, no biggie.

“What toppings do you like?” I asked Benjamin.

He shrugged. “I'm not picky.”

The crown of his dark blond hair glowed in the soft light of the pizza place where we sat, notebooks spread across the table. We'd decided to snag a bite to eat and finish our group reporting at the same time. I knew it wasn't a date—of course not. It was basically an extension of our classroom.

But it sure seemed like a date on the outside. From the intimate glow of the small pendant light above us, to being seated at the quiet table back in the corner, to the way both of us had changed from our school outfits into something fresh. This didn't look like just another school project.

Neither of us had thought to ask Carter if he wanted to meet either. Of course, after griping about him so much, I felt bad that maybe he was sick, which would explain his absence. Still, he needed to work that out with Mrs. Brandwright; we couldn't put everything on hold, wondering where he was.

I nibbled on my thumbnail. Stared at the extensive menu. “Do you like traditional pizza more, or are you open to trying something else? This barbeque chicken pizza sounds really good.”

“Let's do that.” He closed his menu, waved at the nearby
waitress, and placed our order. Then he turned his attention back to our notes. “Okay, so we have our results broken down by age and gender now. Is there anything else we're forgetting?”

I flipped through my pages. “I don't think so.”

“Then let's go ahead and start drafting the group portion of the report.”

For the next twenty minutes, we spent a lot of back-and-forth time refining our introductory paragraphs. I wrote hasty notes down as we haggled about word choice here and there. Still, it went rather smoothly.

The pizza arrived on a large round silver tray. I shoved my notes to the side and pressed a hand to my stomach. “I'm starving.”

It tasted even better than I'd thought it would, which made it really hard to take my time and eat slowly, like a lady, instead of inhaling three slices and freaking him out with my appetite. Joshua called me a vacuum. He was just jealous of my metabolism.

We ate and talked more, both of us focused on getting the paragraphs written. I rubbed my fingers on my napkin when I saw a couple of small grease stains on the paper. “Don't worry,” I said with a laugh. “I'll have clean hands when I type and print this out for us.” We'd decided I'd type the intro and he'd make the corresponding charts.

“Not worried at all,” he replied smoothly.

When the last sentence was done, I dropped my pencil and held my hands over my head. “Victory!” Done on time. Pretty good for me. I gave myself a congratulatory pat on the back, then grabbed another slice.

I heard a soft giggle a couple of tables away and saw a teen couple leaning toward each other, hands held over the table. The
guy lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, and her cheeks got a pretty pink flush.

Benjamin glanced over at them, and his face flashed an emotion I couldn't place. “Monday isn't a typical date night,” he finally said.

I gave a nervous laugh. “No, I suppose not.”

He sipped his water. “What's the worst date you've ever been on?”

I bit my lip and pondered the question. I hadn't been on a lot of dates, to be honest. But I didn't want to look lame, so I dug through my brain for the one that was the worst. “Well, last year this guy asked me out to a really nice restaurant. Then ‘forgot' his wallet at home. I didn't have enough money to cover it, so I had to call my dad to bail us out.”

“Wow.” He cringed. “That's pretty bad.”

“Yeah. Needless to say, it was also our last date.” The saddest part was, the guy didn't seem to even care that he'd been a total douche. He still waved at me in the hallways sometimes. I just shook my head. “But Joshua has an even better one. He went on a date with a guy who showed up dressed just like him, down to hairstyle and shoes. Even talked like him. It was so creepy that Joshua faked stomach cramps about ten minutes in and bailed.”

Benjamin laughed. “That's a first.”

“How about you?”

“I've been lucky to not really have had any bad dates.”

I wasn't sure what to say to that, so I just nodded.

He chewed on his lower lip and shot me a surprisingly shy look. “Actually, I haven't been on a lot of dates at all. In case you haven't noticed, I'm rather awkward.”

My chest swelled; Benjamin was opening up to me. I reached
over and patted his hand in what was supposed to be a friendly gesture, but once my fingers touched his, I found myself stroking them. Just once, just to touch his skin.

He flipped his hand over and, with his index finger, stroked my palm. A smooth slide that sent shivers dancing across my flesh. My lips parted, and his eyes grew dark and hooded.

“Here's your check,” the waitress said, and we jerked away from each other, the mood broken. My cheeks burned, and I tried to recover by digging into my purse while she walked away.

“I got it,” Benjamin said.

“No, it's okay. I—”

“Seriously. It's fine.” The quiet firmness in his voice drew my attention. I peered into his eyes and saw flickers in his pupils. “I can pay for pizza, Camilla.”

I gave a hesitant nod and put my wallet away. “That's really sweet of you. Thanks.”

“It's not.”

“What?”

Benjamin leaned forward. His face was lean and shadowed because of the dim light above us, and his eyes were all intensity, locked on mine. “I'm not a sweet guy. I'm abrupt. People say I'm off-putting. But you keep trying to talk to me anyway. Why?”

There was so much genuine questioning in his eyes that I couldn't look away. “Why? Because I think you're interesting,” I admitted. I dropped my hands in my lap so I wouldn't be tempted to brush my fingers along his hair. “You see the world in a way I don't. You're quiet, yes, but there's a depth to you that isn't in most guys in our school.”

I was drawn to Benjamin. And the more he dropped those
walls and let me in, the more he revealed these surprising snippets about himself, the more I wanted to get closer. To taste that mouth again, to let this raging emotion in my chest burst free.

But he was so hard to read, and I was afraid. One minute it seemed like he liked me. The next, he was pushing me away. Was he just too afraid to rush into it, given the confession about not dating a lot? Or was he still sorting out how he felt?

“I think you're interesting too.” His words were quiet, but they stirred something in my soul.

Benjamin found me interesting. Perhaps there was hope after all.

T
his cheeseburger makes me happy to be alive.” Ethan took a huge bite of his burger, a blissful smile on his face as he chewed.

I nodded, then polished off the last bite of mine. “It was cooked perfectly.” The guys at Rustic Burgers didn't joke around with hamburgers. There weren't a ton of fancy toppings, no gourmet offerings. What you got were amazing, regular burgers for dirt cheap. No wonder so many high schoolers hung out here.

For a Wednesday-night crowd, it was pretty packed. Ethan and I were sitting at a small table near the middle of the room, surrounded by a huge group of jocks who were laughing and shoving burgers into their faces.

Ethan put his burger down and snagged a fry from the overfilled basket we were sharing. “Okay. Ideas. Let's start brainstorming.”

I made myself snag a fry and casually eat it. The moment I'd been dreading. I reminded myself to think of it as a project, nothing more. Nothing personal. “I need to know more about him first. Did you do your research?”

He nodded and dug out a folded piece of paper from his back pocket. Smoothed it on the table. “Here's what I found. Noah has three younger sisters. He likes science and acting. Enjoys most pop music, though he prefers electronica.” He stopped to draw in a quick breath, eyes scanning the page. “He prefers khakis over jeans. He's a vegetarian—”

“You're in love with a vegetarian?” I blurted out.

Ethan blinked. “I, uh, what?”

Shit. Hadn't meant to say that out loud. But I was a little surprised by that—Ethan loved red meat like
whoa
. I waved my hand. “Nothing. Go on.”

He looked at me for a long beat, then turned his attention back to the paper. “That's about it. It's not a lot, is it?” His mouth turned down and his eyes dimmed.

“Hey, it gives us somewhere to start,” I rushed to say. “We'll make it work. Okay, so music and science and acting are strong interests. Sounds like you might want to dress up a bit to do this.”

“Oh! Yes, probably not in a tux,” Ethan said with a chuckle. A subtle reference to poor Camilla's promposal. “But dressed nicely. Maybe you could compose a song I could sing to him?”

My lungs seized, and my face froze.

Luckily, Ethan didn't notice my reaction. “Nah, that's not quite right,” he continued. Rubbed his brow for a moment, deep in thought. “I wonder if I could get the school in on something. Like a fake scene from a musical? Maybe the theater teacher could help.” He ate a handful of fries and kept talking. “Or I could take him to a concert and get the DJ to play something special for him.”

“I think—”

“We could go to the amusement park and sit at the top of the
Ferris wheel, and when we looked down, there could be people spelling out the word ‘prom' with their bodies!”

Oh, wow. Okay, this was getting a bit crazy. “Maybe—”

“No, no, wait! I could hire a skywriter to spell it out. We'd just need to make sure it's a clear day, and I could get him to stand outside on the front lawn—”