Stealing Parker (20 page)

“I get why you needed to wait to talk to Drew,” Will says. “About me, I mean.”

“I understand that you were hurt about Brian and me, but I wish you could’ve trusted me and let me have the time to figure that stuff out. I was going to say yes to prom. I wanted to go with you so bad.”

His expression fades to soft. There’s a long pause before he says, “About that dance?” He rubs his palms together.

I glance over my shoulder at Mom. “Just a sec,” I tell him. Gathering my skirts up in my hands, I zip over to her. “He wants to dance. Can we get ice cream tomorrow instead?”

She fluffs my hair. “I’ll be waiting up. I’ll want all the details, understand?” She gives me a mischievous smile and a hug.

“Definitely,” I whisper into her shoulder.

I break away from her to find Will crossing his arms over his stomach and a rush of shame washes through me because I hurt him so much. But all I can do is try to be the best me I can be.

“I’d love to dance,” I say.

We don’t touch each other until we reach center court in the gym, where it feels like hundreds of eyes are focused on us. But I shut them out. This is my dance, and they can’t stop me from enjoying it. A Kenny Chesney song is playing as I stretch my arms around his neck. He sets his hands on my hips, and like in eighth grade, his hands are trembling. We sway back and forth, finding a beat (which is hard ’cause his toga is basically a dress and his legs keep getting tangled). I inch closer and closer to him, to rest my head against his partially-covered chest. His hands shake. I pull my arms from around his neck, and he scrunches his eyebrows at me before I place my hands over his, on my waist, to still them. Our eyes meet. I run my fingers up his arms to his neck.

I catch Drew and Tate checking us out. Drew waves at me, a meek, sincere smile on his face, and goes back to chatting with Tate.

“Hey,” I whisper to Will.

“Hey.” A smile edges on his mouth.

“Can we go outside? I don’t want Drew to have to watch us dancing together.”

He takes my hand and leads me out back into the school parking lot, behind the gym. “You’re a sweet girl. And a good friend.” Under the street lamps, beside the Dumpsters, he pulls me into a clumsy waltz, the best he can do in his silly toga. He gets a grossed out look on his face.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask.

He glances around at the pavement. “I was wondering where exactly Henry found that hot pink dildo.”

I slap his chest, making him laugh, and we move closer and closer.

When we stop, I say, “I kinda lied.”

He loosens his grip on me, and begins to pull away, looking hurt, so I get up on tiptoes and lightly peck his lips. Because I want to. Tingles rush over my skin, and he moans from deep in his throat. We break apart and smile at each other.

“More?” Will whispers, then gives me another quick kiss. My hands are in his hair, and his eyes are hazy with happiness. “What did you lie about?”

I adjust his crown of ivy. “I wasn’t just falling for you…I think I loved you.”

He digs fingers into my waist and yanks me closer, acting all sexy alpha male.

“I was getting there,” he replies with a husky voice, sweeping his hands over my back. “Love, I mean.”

“You think you could get back to that place?”

He nods, brushing his lips against mine. “Could you get back?”

I can do whatever I want.

Thank you, as always, to Sara Megibow and everyone at Nelson Literary Agency for their support, enthusiasm, and advice. Much gratitude to my editor, Leah Hultenschmidt. I’ll never forget the look on your face when I told you what this book is about. Your eyes popped open wide and you looked so excited! I am so grateful to Trish Doller—I’m glad you love Corndog, and thanks for your help in making this book strong. Many thanks to Allison Bridgewater, Sarah Cloots, Rekha Radhakrishnan, Maria Cari Soto, Andrea Coulter, Tiffany Schmidt, Christy Maier, Holly Longstreth, Rebecca Sutton, Madeleine Rex, Erica Haglund, Kari Olson, Jessica Wallace, Robin Talley, and Jessica Spotswood for reading my work and offering great advice. Dad, thanks for loving this book, even though it’s something you normally would never, ever read in a bazillion years. Thank you to Sourcebooks for giving my books a great home.

Thank you to my husband, Don, for reading every word I write and always supporting me. I could not do this without you.

And finally, many, many thanks to my readers! I am humbled by the feedback and support you have given me. You rock.

Miranda Kenneally grew up in Manchester, Tennessee, a quaint little town where nothing cool ever happened until after she left. Now Manchester is the home of Bonnaroo. Growing up, Miranda wanted to become an author, a Major League Baseball player, a country music singer, or an interpreter for the United Nations. Instead she became an author who works for the US Department of State in Washington, DC, and once acted as George W. Bush’s armrest during a meeting. She has a degree in International Relations from American University. She enjoys reading and writing young adult literature and loves
Star
Trek
, music, sports, Mexican food, Twitter, coffee, and her husband. Visit
www.mirandakenneally.com
.