Мэг Кэбот - Pants on Fire

“Katie.” He looked mock-offended. “I’m a narc, it’s true. But only when it’s for the common good. Your sneaking around with Eric Fluteley behind your boyfriend’s back hurts no one but your boyfriend — and possibly Eric. It’s entirely your business.”

I nearly sagged with relief. “Oh,” I said. “Good.”

I was about to say that no, of course I wouldn’t be one of the people giving him the cold shoulder in the halls of Eastport High next week…that I would do everything I possibly could to help him try to assimilate…when he went on, as if I hadn’t even said anything:

“Of course, I do think you might want to ask yourselfwhy it is that you can’t seem to be satisfied with just one guy. Or even with two, if all that hair twirling and looking up at me from underneath your eyelashes means what I think it means.”

I gaped up at him in total shock. No. Noway. Had he just…had he just implied — more than implied, flat-out stated — that I’ve beenflirting with him?

Flushing beet red — with anger, I told myself. Not embarrassment. Because I hadn’t been flirting with him. Ihadn’t …much — I took a step backward, away from him, preparing to head back toward the pier, away from Tommy Sullivan and those bright ever-changing eyes of his. That’s how NOT interested in flirting with Tommy Sullivan I was. I couldn’t believe he had the gall to even hint that I might have been doing any such thing.

Well, I’d show him. I’d leave my dad’s boat without another word. And as for not giving him the cold shoulder next week in the halls of Eastport High, well, noway was I going to give him the satisfaction of being friendly. Since he was obviously the kind of person who mistook friendliness for romantic overtures—

Except that the first step I took as I backed away from him landed on my bicycle helmet, and I completely lost my balance and would have landed flat on my butt at the bottom of Dad’s boat…

…if Tommy hadn’t thrown out his arms and caught me just before I hit the deck.

It was only natural that I flung both ofmy arms around his neck. Not that I thought he was going to drop me — he seemed to have the situation well in hand — but, you know. You can never be too careful.

How long we stood like that — our arms around each other in the moonlight, with the sound of the lapping water in our ears, and our gazes locked on the other’s — I’ll probably never know. Long enough for me to start feeling positively light-headed — although that could have been the Dramamine.

Which is the only explanation I can give for why my own eyes started drifting closed, and my mouth started getting closer and closer to Tommy’s, until suddenly he broke the silence between us by whispering, his breath warm on my face, “Katie.”

“Hmmmm?” I asked, fluttering my eyelids.

“Do you think I’m going to kiss you, or something?”

“Oh,Tommy,” I sighed, and closed my eyes in anticipation of an intense, soul-searing lip-lock.

Except that the next thing I knew, Tommy Sullivan had let go of me.

Seriously.

Oh, he didn’t drop me, or anything. It’s just that one minute I was lying in his arms, and the next, I was completely vertical and on my own two feet again.

As I blinked up at him in confusion, Tommy said, with a wry smile, “I think you’ve had enough kissing for one day, Katie. Come on. Let me drive you home.”

Obviously, I was totally insulted. Not to mention completely mortified. What iswrong with me?

I had no choice, of course, but to refuse his offer of a ride. Even if I hadn’t had my bike with me, I’d sooner havewalked than ridden home with a cretin like Tommy Sullivan.

Except that it was pretty hard to keep thinking of him as a cretin when he insisted on cruising along behind me in his car — the Jeep Wrangler, it turned out — to make sure I got home in one piece. Because, he said, even with lights and a helmet, he didn’t think it was safe for me to ride a bike in the dark, what with all the drunk drivers they bust on Post Road every night.

Which — okay, I’ll admit — was totally sweet of him. Seth doesn’t even follow me when I’m on my bike to make sure I get home all right. And he’s myboyfriend, not my mortal enemy.

But then Tommy had to blow any warm feelings I might have been harboring for him by stage-whispering my name when I was halfway across the dew-dampened lawn to the front door after parking my bike.

I didn’t want to turn around. I didn’t want to speak to — let alone see — him ever again.

But it had been nice of him to follow me home.

And — well, whatever. He really does have totally cute lips.

So I stopped, then turned.

“What?” I demanded in my least friendly voice.

“There’ll be plenty of time for kissing later,” he had the gall to assure me, in a voice that made it clear he was doing everything possible to keep from bursting out laughing.

I was so mad, I practically hurled my bag at his head, wet bathing suit and all.

“I wouldn’t kiss you,” I informed him acidly, not even caring if Mrs. Hall, our snoopy neighbor from next door, overheard me, “if you were the last guy on earth!”

But Tommy didn’t even have the sense to be insulted. He just laughed and drove off.

And it was definitely aMWA ha ha ha evil laugh, and not theha ha kind.

“Honey, are you feeling all right?” Mom wanted to know, poking her head into my room before she went off to work the next morning.

“Yeah,” I said, in some surprise. It’s not often my parents ask after my health, which is exemplary, aside from the motion sickness thing. Usually they’re more worried about Liam, who has a tendency toward sports-related injuries. “Why?”

“Well, honey,” Mom said. “It’s almost nine o’clock in the morning, and you’re usually up and out the door by now. You have to admit, being in bed at this hour is highly unusual behavior. For you.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I was just…thinking.”

That my life is officially over.

“Without your iPod on?” Mom smiled. Because I can’t think — much less do homework — without listening to music. Preferably loud rock music. “Heavens, it must be about something serious. You’re not even on the phone with Sidney.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Well, this isn’t something I can really talk to Sidney about.”

“Oh,” Mom said. “I see. What, about Seth?”

Oh, God. I shook my head quickly. “No. Not really.”

“Well,” Mom said. I could tell she was totally hesitating — do her parental duty, and open a whole can of worms she’d probably be happier not knowing about, and risk possible lateness to work? Or just sayHave a nice day, and keep moving? She seemed to remember Dr. Phil’s Step-by-Step Plan for Creating a Phenomenal Family, and said, “You know you can always talk to me, don’t you, Katie? Is it something to do with”—she lowered her voice, even though Liam was already outside with my dad, tossing around a football before Dad left for work, and couldn’t overhear—“boys?”

“You could say that,” I said miserably. “Aboy, anyway.”

“Is it Seth?” Mom asked, dropping the smile and looking worried. “Katie, is he pressuring you to—”

“Oh, God, Mom,” I cried with a groan, realizing belatedly what she was getting at. “I am not having sex with Seth. Or anyone else, for that matter. I don’t evenlike Seth enough to—”

Oh, God. I dropped my pillow over my face. I couldn’t believe I’d even said that. Of course I liked Seth. Iloved Seth. It’s just that…well, Tommy had sort of had a point: If I loved Seth so much, what the heck was I doing out there behind the emergency generator with Eric Fluteley every day?