Мэг Кэбот - Pants on Fire

“Why not?” he asked, apparently in reference to my having a photography show. “You should. Those photographs are really good, Katie. Well, the ones with people in them.”

Okay. Now this was just too weird. He was giving mepageant tips?

“First of all,” I said, bending down to yank my bike lock from the rack, “since when do you know anything about photography? And second of all, you have toperform something at a beauty pageant. You have to sing or dance or something.”

Tommy’s eyebrows went up. “Wait…you’re singing?”

I glared at him. I can’t believe he remembered that I’m tone deaf.

No. Wait. I can, actually. Leave it to Tommy Sullivan to remember everynegative thing there is to know about me.

“I’m not,” I said. “I’m playing piano.”

His eyebrows went up even further. “Oh, God. Not ‘I’ve Got Rhythm.’”

I couldn’t believe it. Truly. I couldn’tbelieve he remembered.

“What?” I demanded. “I’ve gotten a lot better at it since eighth grade, you know.”

“I’ve never understood your obsession with that song,” Tommy said, shaking his head. “Especially since you don’t have any.”

“Any what?” I asked.

“Rhythm,” he said.

“I do so!” Now Ireally couldn’t believe it. “God, Tommy! And for your information, I didnot want you to kiss me last night, okay? I already have a boyfriend.”

“Two of them,” Tommy reminded me.

“Exactly. Whatever you think was going on last night…well, it wasn’t. It was all in your imagination. I mean, don’t even flatter yourself.”

“And here comes one of them now,” Tommy said.

“One of what?”

“Your boyfriends.”

I followed his gaze, and nearly choked on my own spit. Eric Fluteley was pulling up beside us in his dad’s convertible BMW.

“Katie,” he said, when he’d come up alongside the sidewalk. “There you are. I’ve been calling you all morning. Don’t you have your phone on?”

I said my favorite curse word (inside my head, though, since Quahog Princesses don’t swear), and reached into my bag. My phone was off. As usual.

“Sorry,” I said, pressing thePOWER button. “I forgot.”

“Thought so,” Eric said, with a friendly smile at Tommy, as if to say,Isn’t she cute? It was clear he had no idea who Tommy was, even though the three of us had been in many of the same classes in middle school. “I was wondering if you were going to be around later. I’m having trouble figuring out which of those headshots you took to use with my college apps, and was hoping you could come over to help me figure it out.”

Which was Eric Fluteley code forcome over to make out with me while my parents aren’t home.

“Uh,” I said, flushing. Because all this was doing was giving Tommy more ammunition to use against me. Even though he was unfamiliar with Eric Fluteley code. Still, I figured he wouldn’t have any trouble figuring it out, since college apps weren’t due for months. “I can’t today, Eric. I’ve got Quahog Princess rehearsal.”

“Oh, right,” Eric said, laughing in a very fakey way. “How could I forget? I guess I’ll see you there. Morgan Castle asked me to be her escort, you know.”

“I know,” I said flatly. Really, he was enjoying this whole make-Katie-jealous-by-hanging-out-with-Morgan-Castle thing a little too much.

“But you’ll be at the Gulp later, won’t you?” Eric asked in a way-too-casual voice.

“Uh.” I couldn’t believe this was happening. That the guy I was cheating on my boyfriend with was trying to make an appointment for more cheating…right in front of Tommy Sullivan. And he didn’t even know it. “Yeah. But. Um.”

To my astonishment, Tommy Sullivan came to my rescue.

“Is this the Z4?” he asked Eric, indicating the car Eric was driving.

“Uh,” Eric said, looking at him. “Yeah, it is. It’s my dad’s. Hey…do I know you from somewhere, dude? You look familiar.”

And before I could stop him, Tommy was leaning over the side of Eric’s car with his right hand extended. “Sure, you know me, Eric. Tom Sullivan.”

I closed my eyes. I closed them because I was pretty certain a gigantic chasm-size void had just opened up beneath my feet, and that I was about to be sucked down into it.

Because Eric Fluteley only has the biggest mouth in the entire town (well, except for Sidney). The only reason he hasn’t told everyone in Eastport about our extracurricular activities behind the emergency generator is because I told him if he did, he’d have to pay a professional photographer to do his headshots. And that could run into thousands of dollars.

But when I opened my eyes again a second later, I saw there was no chasm-size void before me…just Post Road, Eastport’s main drag, with Eric Fluteley in his BMW, and Tommy Sullivan standing on the sidewalk next to me.

“Tommy?”Eric actually tipped down his sunglasses to get a better look at the guy whose hand he was shaking.“Sullivan?”

“It’s Tom now, actually,” Tommy said, sounding amused by Eric’s stunned tone. “But yeah. It’s me.”

“Holy—” Eric said one of the words I, as a candidate for Quahog Princess, have forbidden myself from using. “What are you doing back in town, man?”

“He’s going to be enrolling at Eastport High in the fall,” I said quickly, before Tommy could volunteer the information.

“Really?” The corners of Eric’s mouth twitched. You could tell he was totally enjoying this. Eric, being concerned only with Eric, doesn’t have any sort of feelings for the Quahogs either way. To him, the whole football thing is just a nuisance that takes people’s attention away from him. “Well, things get rough, and you need a hand, let me know. I took self-defense at the Y this summer, to help hone my stage-fighting techniques.”

Seriously. Sometimes I wonder why I even let him kiss me.

Although at least when we’re busy making out, he can’t say anything, as his tongue is otherwise occupied.

“Uh, I think I’ll be all right,” Tommy said, obviously trying not to laugh. Because the idea of Eric Fluteley fighting anyone is patently absurd. He’d be so afraid of getting his — admittedly gorgeous — face damaged, he’d be of no practical use.

“Well, you’re a braver man than I. I’ll give you that,” Eric said with a hearty laugh.

A PT Cruiser pulled up behind Eric’s BMW and, because he wasn’t moving, honked. Eric looked behind him, then said, “I better get going. See you at rehearsal, Katie. Nice seeing you again, Tommy. Good luck. You’re going to need it.”

“Thanks,” Tommy said, as a still-grinning Eric cruised away. As soon as he was out of earshot, Tommy turned to me and said, “Seriously. You actuallylike that guy?”

“He appreciates my skills with a camera,” I insisted. “Which is more than I can say for a lot of people in this town, who wouldn’t know the difference between a headshot and a seascape.”

“I’m kind of doubting it’s your skills with acamera he appreciates most,” Tommy said dryly.

Giving him a dirty look, I tugged on my bike helmet and, climbing onto my seat, said, as regally as possible for someone straddling a three-speed, “For your information, I amnot that type of girl. I don’t know what youthink you saw behind that emergency generator, but it was only kissing. Something you’re not going to be doing any of with me, by the way.”

“You bring up kissing me an awful lot for someone who claims not to be interested in actually doing it,” Tommy said, looking highly amused. “‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks.’”

Furious, I yanked my bike around so it was facing in the opposite direction. I meant to start pedaling away from him without another word. But something made me turn around and ask him angrily, “Tommy, just tell me what you’re doing back here. Is it because you want revenge?”