The Sweetest Thing (24 page)

I lengthen my stride, and as I near the boathouse, I hear him. “Hey.” It’s Ethan, early. “What’s up?”

He walks up behind me and puts his strong arms around my waist, holds me tight. He kisses my ear, and the tingle gets going. But I find myself wishing he’d look me in the eye first, maybe ask me about Nanny.

I turn toward him and feel the strength in his shoulders.

When I look at his face, I see nothing but confidence. He is sure of me. He leans in for a kiss.

Maybe I’m being paranoid, but the first thing I think is that I taste some sort of flavor on his lips. Like lipstick.

“I can’t believe you’re actually here,” he says. “I was sure you’d cancel.”

“Nope.” I try to act happy. I know I should be happy.

This is what I wanted.

He grabs my hand and pulls me along.

“Let’s go down there,” he says, pointing to my family’s dock.

“That’s ours.”

“I know.”

“How’d you know that?”

“I asked around.”

When we arrive, I see a soft-sided cooler waiting. “Shall we?” he says, sweeping his arm down in a low bow. Romantic. He takes a blanket from under the cooler and spreads it out for us.

Once we’re settled, he unzips the cooler and lifts out a 251

tiny bottle. “You like wine?” he asks.

“I don’t know.” I shift uncomfortably; Dad has definite rules about drinking.

“Really?” he says, surprised. “I would have thought you’d have a glass now and then. Nothing better than good food paired with good wine. Not that
this
is good wine.” He laughs. “But I wanted to do something special. This is kind of our first official date.”

“Is it?” I peer behind me.

Ethan nods his head, brings out a container. When he pulls the top off, the aroma of garlic and basil wafts into the air. Next comes a baggie full of baguette slices.

“Pesto. It’s my special recipe.”

“You made this?”

“Yes, I did.” He spreads some on a piece of bread and hands it to me. “I figured the only way I’d have a chance to cook for you anytime soon was to do it picnic-style.” He unscrews the wine bottle, empties it into a short plastic glass.

I take a bite of the bread.

“Wow, this is good,” I say, trying to cover my mouth.

He takes a sip from another bottle and leans over to kiss my neck.

“This is nothing.” He kisses me again. “Once I get out of high school, I’m off to Paris. Then someday I’ll open a restaurant. Maybe even be on TV like your dad.”

I take another bite. This
is
good. “Hmph …” I swallow and wipe my mouth with one of the creased linen napkins 252

he’s brought. “Trust me, though—you don’t want to be like my dad.”

“Why not? He’s a great chef. That’s what I want to be.”

He is serious.

“Well, he’d probably hire you at the restaurant, if you want to see what it’s really like.” I snicker. “They’re always hiring busboys. He might even let you help in the kitchen after a while, if you’re lucky.” I roll my eyes.

Ethan shrugs. “I don’t want to be a busboy. I just want to cook.” He slathers more pesto on another piece of bread, and I am so hungry I completely scarf it down. “And you should be at least a little excited. I mean, you’ve got it made. Your dad is going to be famous.” I look at him; I’m ready to bust up laughing. But he’s serious.

“Sounds like you’d rather have him here than me.” I smile.

He reaches around my waist. “Not by a long shot.” He leans in and runs a finger along my jawline. But all of a sudden, a clear vision of Jack materializes in my mind. I can feel Jack’s touch, his kiss, and I pull away from Ethan.

“So. Did Haley stay long? The other night?”

He sits up straight, pulls his arm away. “I thought we settled that.” He finishes his mini-bottle in one big gulp.

“Look,” he says. “I’m sorry. I know you guys have a history.

But me and her . . . we’re through. So you don’t have to worry.”

He tries to kiss me, but I back away again.

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“Good.” I wonder what she’s told him. “Because she is not a nice person. I can’t stand her.”

“Wow, Sheridan Wells actually dislikes someone? And all along I thought you were the town sweetheart?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He laughs. “Relax. Haley, she’s just wicked jealous of you.”

“Of me?”

“Well. You are the most famous person in St. Mary, next to your dad. Everyone knows Cake Girl. She hates that.”

“No one
knows
me.” I pick up the cup of wine, put it back down. Look up at the sky, where the stars are shining again, like they always seem to do whenever Ethan is around.

“Well, I’d like to get to know you better.” He leans backward onto his elbow and tugs at my sleeve until I follow.

Now I’m lying on my back, with Ethan gazing down at me like I’m some treasure he’s just discovered. He reaches across my body, grabs my hand, laces his fingers through mine.

I can see his profile in the moonlight, and I realize that a month ago, a date with Ethan Murphy was a fantasy. I never imagined it could really happen, or that if it did happen, I’d spend the whole time thinking of Jack.

Ethan presses his lips on top of mine. His mouth tastes like wine, which isn’t entirely unpleasant, and now he’s kissing me harder. I try desperately to focus on the hot boy whose mouth is exploring mine. He moves on to my neck, and I start feeling tingly and floaty. This is nice. He un-254

tangles his fingers from mine and touches my stomach, then moves to the bottom of my coat. I feel his hand on my bare skin. It tickles me and then moves upward. When he gets to my bra, I reach up and gently push his hand back down.

“Ethan.”

“What?”

“Stop.” I laugh.

He kisses me again, more insistent this time. I wonder if he notices that our lips always seem to be just a tiny bit out of sync. “Come on.” His hand is searching for skin again.

“Let’s go to my house.”

“And?”

He shrugs, kisses my face. “Let’s just see.”

No. We can’t just see.

“Ethan,” I say, surprised by how sure I sound. “I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

He kisses me again. “Oh, come on. Why not?”

“I don’t know. I’m just not.”

He stops, leans back on his elbows. “Okay. Fine.” He sits up quickly, pulls his knees in against his chest. Like he’s having a tantrum.

I sit up next to him and wonder what just happened.

“Look, I think we make a great couple,” he says sharply.

“Me, too. I mean, maybe this is just moving a little fast.”

“Okay.” He takes a deep breath, turns to me. “Why don’t you tell me how fast you want to go.”

“I don’t know. Not this fast.”

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He stands up, stretches his legs in that wonderful Ethan fashion. “Well, I can’t read your mind. I’m trying here.”

When I stand up, he grabs the blanket. “Maybe we should do this again after the show.”

“Really?” I ask.

“Yeah, maybe the party is making you tense.” He moves forward and gives me a quick kiss, a boring one, like we’ve been married for ninety years. “I’ll call you,” he says, and walks away, leaving me alone in the dark. I watch those long legs until they disappear.

My mouth hangs open. When it finally closes, I look out onto the water in shock. Maybe Lori was right, and this whole romance thing shouldn’t be easy. But should it really be this hard?

Before I start home, I bend down to touch the initials my parents carved into the board beneath my feet, because it always makes me feel better. But this time, I feel nothing.

Just a big empty nothing.

I walk home, the temperature dropping, my face stinging from the cold. Our house is completely dark and unwelcoming, so I pass it and walk toward the alley, digging the keys out of my coat. I let myself into the bakery, lock the door behind me, and grab my supplies. I dump everything onto the table and work a mass of gum paste until I start to relax. Soon the small clump resembles the ruffled edge of a hibiscus petal. I’ve got about thirty flowers completed already, which is probably more than enough. But I need a 256

distraction, and let’s face it, you can never have enough gum paste flowers.

I settle down and let the bakery envelop me. Think of Nanny wanting me to dream big. I look around, at the shelves full of cake boxes, at the pink polka-dotted aprons hanging on their hooks, at the clipboard bursting with orders. I am part of this place. How could I exist without it?

This is where I belong, this is where I belong, this is where I
belong.
I repeat this mantra to myself until it is like a song in my head.

This cake will be my best ever. Just spectacular. The Suits will love it. Even Dad will have to admit it’s a masterpiece.

It’s just after midnight when the doorknob jiggles and I jump. I hear a key in the lock, and the door swings open.

It’s Dad.

“Been looking for you.”

“Here I am,” I say, keeping my eyes on my work. I’m glad that I am
here
, and not still on the dock with Ethan, about to get busted with empty wine bottles and his hand up my shirt.

He walks over and inspects my drying petals with a scowl. “You think you need more?”

I grunt. “I’m the cake. You’re the other stuff. This is mine. Remember?” I know that sounds rude, but I’ve had a long day. I just want him to go before it gets worse.

He seems to read my mind, and I am relieved. “Don’t stay too late,” he says. “And lock the door behind me.” Then, 257

instead of heading for the door, he walks over to where I’m sitting, puts his arm around my shoulder, and kisses the side of my head. “Good-night,” he says, and leaves.

Jeesh. What a day.

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spoils the whole bunch

A muffled thump from downstairs wakes me. I can’t focus.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

I jump up and stumble down the stairs. Through the door I see Lori pointing to an imaginary watch, and I let her in.

“What’s going on with you? What are you, alarm-clock challenged?”

“Calm down.” I look at the clock and see that, once again, I will have to make a mad dash to school. I run up the stairs and Lori follows.

“I’m sorry. Just go without me. Yesterday was seriously the most messed-up day of my entire life.” I pull a bra under the T-shirt I slept in, clasp it, toss on the first shirt I pull out of the closet, and run to the bathroom. “Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse.”

My jeans lie in the middle of the floor. Do I dare wear them again? It’s nasty, for sure, but I force my legs in, one at a time. There’s always more Febreze.

“Yeah, like I’m gonna go without you. I want details, sister.”

She has a white paper bag in her hand and thrusts it toward me. “I didn’t know what you’d want. They’re out of lemon poppy seed, so I got you a blueberry crumble. Roz seems a little overwhelmed over there. When’s Nanny coming back?”

“I don’t know.” I find a pair of socks in my drawer (bonus—they’re clean!) and head downstairs. “Maybe I shouldn’t go to school today. I could help him.”

“Shut up, you have to go to school. French test? Remember? Art project? Chem lab? Any of these things ring a bel ?”

“This day is already total crap.” I throw my hair up and grab my makeup bag, which will have to wait until I get to the restroom at school.

“Seriously. You’re gonna have to repeat sophomore year if you don’t get yourself together. Between that nuthouse bakery and this freak-show party and meeting up with lover boy . . .”

I shove everything into my bag. “It’s not that bad. And I’m pretty sure that Ethan and I are over.”

I reach into my front pocket, where Mom’s note has been 260

stuck for days. I put it in my jewelry box, her punishment for not calling me back.

A car honks out front, and Lori walks to my bedroom window. “Over, huh?” I cross the room and stare out into the parking lot. Ethan’s getting out of the Volvo, a bouquet of red roses in one hand.

I’m speechless. Last night was so bizarre; it all happened so fast. He seemed so pissed off. By the time I went to bed last night, I’d convinced myself that we were over.

“Well, heartbreaker, what’s the plan now?” Lori smiles, enjoying this. She runs downstairs, and I hightail it into the bathroom to put on my makeup after all.

I hear Lori fling open the front door. “Ethan! Hey, Ethan!” she calls like a spaz. I watch myself put concealer on a zit. Line my lid with black pencil. There’s a stirring in my gut, and it’s not hunger. What am I doing with someone like Ethan? He might make me swoon. He
does
make me swoon. When he touches me, there’s definitely a spark. But

. . . there’s always a but.

But he left me alone by the harbor last night. But he didn’t even make sure I got home safe. But he tried to make out with me in front of my teacher. But Haley Haversham answered his door. But I’m not ready to go to his house and do
whatever
.

I turn off the light. Stand in the darkness. I know what I have to do. I feel it in my stomach, in my head, in my bones.

My heart, I think for the first time ever, is speaking clearly.

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I grab my messenger bag, walk to the stairs. Ethan is inside now, and he watches me as I descend. His whole face lights up. I swear, it does. It’s like I’m the most amazing thing he’s ever seen.

“Hi,” I say as he holds out the flowers.

“Hey. I’m not sure what happened last night. But I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” I take them. “They’re beautiful.” He gives me a kiss, a nice kiss. But something has changed. My knees aren’t shaking. I don’t feel dizzy at all.

Lori coughs. “We might want to get to school, kiddies, or it’s detention for all of us.”

“I can drive us,” Ethan says, and looks at Lori like he’s seeing her for the first time. “Leslie, right?” She looks at me, then back to him. Her eyebrows lift.