Мэг Кэбот - Pants on Fire

“You’re insane,” Tommy said. “Have any of your other many boyfriends ever mentioned that to you before?”

“Don’t try to change the subject,” I said, more than a little conscious that he was still holding on to my hand. “I want to know the truth. I think I have aright to know it. What were you doing in Mr. Gatch’s office yesterday?”

“You know I can’t tell you that,” he said, shaking his head.

Because it was none of my business. Mr. Gatch had already made that more than clear.

“Fine,” I said, between gritted teeth. Gritted in frustration because he was being so close-mouthed. Not because I was trying to keep myself from throwing my arms around his neck and kissing him again. Not at all. “Then just tell me this: What are youreally doing back in Eastport? And if it’s not to ruin my life, thenwhy did you come back?”

“Katie,” he said, looking down at my hand in his. He seemed upset. He really did. Like he wanted to tell me, but he just…couldn’t.

Of course, that might have been part of the act. You know, the act to make me fall in love with him, then get his revenge by ripping my heart out and smearing it all over Eastport.

But I had to hand it to him. Because the act? It was totally working.

“Oh, who even cares?” I said finally, and wrenched my hand from his.

But only so I could throw my arms around his neck and start kissing him again.

Oh, yes. I was leaning against a tree in Eastport Park, kissing Tommy Sullivan behind the Quahog Princess pageant tent. Not even leaning against the tree so much as being pressed against it by Tommy, who didn’t seem to mind at all that I’d ended our conversation so abruptly…not to mention somewhat unconventionally. Well, I guess it would have been unconventional if it had been anybody but me. But since it was me, well, what else was I going to do but kiss him?

And it wasn’t like Tommy wasn’t kissing me back. He was…and like he really meant it, I might add. His hands were on my waist, his chest pressed up against mine, his mouth hot on my mouth. In all, it was a very excellent moment.

Except that that’s how long it lasted. Just a moment, before Tommy lifted his head and said in a funny, unsteady voice, “Katie.”

“Stop talking, please,” I said, and dragged his head so that his mouth was back down where it belonged: on mine.

But he didn’t keep it there long enough. For me, anyway.

“Katie,” he lifted his head to say again. “I mean it. We can’t keep doing this.”

“Why?” I demanded, dragging him again.

But he resisted!

“Because,” he said firmly, giving my waist a little shake. “We have totalk.”

“Talking is way overrated,” I said. Because, seriously, talking was thelast thing I wanted to do with him. Especially when he was standing so close to me, and I could smell his sunscreen and feel his muscles and all I wanted to do was wrap my legs around himagain.

“Seriously, Katie,” Tommy murmured into my hair. Which I had a feeling was escaping from its updo, on account of all the bark that had just been rubbed against the back of it. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Okay,” I said. Though it was an effort to speak. On account of all the throbbing that was going on in various parts of my body. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Us,” Tommy said. “I don’t want to do this, Katie.”

“What?” I asked, surprised. Because he certainly hadn’t been acting like someone who didn’t want to do this. “Make out with me in parking lots and public parks?”

“Exactly,” Tommy said. “That may have been all right for Eric Fluteley. But it’s not all right with me. You should know up front that I’m not going to be the guy you sneak around with behind your boyfriend’s back. I’m either the boyfriend, or I’m gone. So you’re going to have to make a choice, Katie. It’s me…or them.”

I narrowed my eyes as I stared up at him. Mostly I was thinking about how close his mouth was to mine, and how easy it would be to just start kissing him again.

But even I, the Ado Annie of Eastport, knew that wouldn’t solve anything (although it might make the bits of me that were throbbing feel happy).

Instead I tried to focus on what he had just said. Make a choice. Him or them.

Hadn’t that been the exact same choice I’d had to make four years ago? Granted, we hadn’t been making out behind restaurants and pageant tents back then. But it had been the same problem, really: support Tommy Sullivan, and face social pariahdom forever as the class brainiac and Quahog hater. Or reject Tommy Sullivan, and end up playing spin the bottle with Seth Turner.

How could anyone have decided otherwise?

Except that now…four years later…I couldn’t help wondering: Had I made theright choice?

Or had I just made theeasiest one?

I blinked at him. I didn’t know what to say. I needed a time out. This was too hard to decide on the spur of the moment like this.

Especially given the throbbing bits.

Tommy, almost as if he’d read my mind, reached up and touched the tip of my nose.

“Why don’t you think about it,” he said. There was a trace of laughter in his voice. “You look confused. I’ll be in the audience if you want to let me know after the pageant what you’ve decided.”

I blinked some more. “You’re…you’re going to watch the pageant?”

“Oh,” Tommy said, with a chuckle. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“But.” Why was my brain digesting this information so slowly? “Seth is my escort. Seth will see you. Seth might try to—”

“Well, I guess Mr. Gatch will have something to report about in tomorrow’s Sunday edition then, won’t he?” Tommy kissed the top of my forehead, then turned around to start walking away.

And I realized, as he did so, that he’d done it again. Really. He’d rendered me into a quivering mass of girly flesh with his kisses, so that I couldn’t think straight, and I’d just let him do all the talking. I hadn’t had a chance to tell him what I thought about him and his stupid theory about how I don’t like or understand myself. Which was so far from the truth, it wasn’t even funny. I totally love myself. Hadn’t I entered myself in the Quahog Princess pageant?

And I don’t evenlike quahogs.

“Katie?”

I’d only staggered a few feet out from behind the tree when I heard the horrified voice coming from the tent flap. I glanced toward it, and saw Sidney standing there, looking shocked.

Because she saw Tommy walking away.

Worse, Tommy saw her. And he had the nerve to wink. And say, “How you doing, Sidney?” as he went by, around to the front of the stage.

Sidney murmured, “Fine, thanks.” Then, as soon as he’d rounded the side of the tent, she hobbled through the grass to me (her heels were sinking into the soil), crying, “Oh my God, Katie! Oh my God!”

I knew the jig was up.

And I also knew Tommy had won. He had straight up won.

It was over.I was over.

Weirdly, all I felt was relieved. Well, except for the part about Sidney hating me. Because the truth is, even though she’s totally shallow, Sidney’s always been a good friend to me. Bossy, but fun.

“Sidney,” I said. “Look. I can explain—”

“Oh my God,” Sidney said for a third time, reaching up to pull bits of bark out of my hair. “You look like you were just making out with some guy against a tree. Probably because — surprise! — you were just making out with some guy against a tree.”

“I know,” I said gravely. “I’m a horrible person. I guess you’re going to have to tell Seth.”

“Are you mental?” Sidney wanted to know, tugging on the hem of my skirt, which had mysteriously ridden up a little. “Get back in that tent and put some lipstick on. I don’t know what you were thinking, macking with Mr. Football Camp five minutes before you’re supposed to get out on stage. Is he really that good of a kisser? And how did he know my name, anyway?”