Page 10 of Crazy for this Girl

“C’mon.” He twitches his fingers persistently again. “Give me.”

I point at him in warning. “No deleting anything.”

He pulls back his lips in an exaggerated smile. “Not sure if I can promise that because these songs might malfunction the device already, and—”

“Cal.”

He chuckles and rolls his eyes. “Alright, alright. No deleting… just adding.”

“Promise?”

He bows his head. “I promise.”

The first set of fireworks begins to go off then, splaying gold and reds over the lake. I glance toward the pontoon boat a few houses down that Mom, Dad, and Jonah are on with one of their friends. Mom wanted me to join them so we could all watch the show together, but I told her I was going to hang out with friends.

Whether she bought it or not is still up for debate.

I’m bound to hear something from her about Cal tomorrow if she sees me with him alone tonight. And with the number of fireworks going off in the sky, we’re a clear shot to see sitting on the dock together.

“I think this is my favorite holiday,” Cal emits, staring up at all the various displays in the sky.

“Over Christmas?”

“Yeah.”

“This is my second. Christmas is fun with all the lights and music. Not so much the Christmas cookies because Mom can’t bake, but mine aren’t bad.”

“Eh, not really around my house. My parents throw a bunch of parties and stuff, but they’re just a bunch of businesspeople. They get boring.”

“None of them have kids they bring around?”

“Some do, but they’re lame.”

“Cal…”

He leans back on his palms, keeping his gaze on the show. “They are. All rich kids.”

“Aren’t you a rich kid? You told me you had a nanny.”

“I haven’t had a nanny since I learned how to wipe my own ass.”

“So last year?” A wad of green grass flies at my face, and I stick my tongue out to get the innocent greenery off my lips. Cal shows no side of remorse—shocker—as his attention remains on the bursts of colors in the sky. “Too soon?”

“Keep it up, Tone Deaf,” he coos. “And I won’t come to save you next time my mom asks you to mop the floors.”

He’s not lying.

Earlier, she asked me if I could show her how to run the dishwasher. Cal had to remind her that I wasn’t the help after she pulled out an iron before that, and began inquiring how to get wrinkles out of her dress. He didn’t catch her last week when she asked me if I could wash her car. Why she’d bother having it done in the first place when we’re on a dirt road is beyond me.

“After the fireworks, do you wanna go get some more pizza?”

I chortle over a scoff, because for the hundredth time, this kid can put food away like no one I’ve ever known. “How are you not a thousand pounds?”

“Quick metabolism.”

“I need that.”

“Why? You’re not fat.” I hum in uncertainty because I’m a little curvier than the girls at my old school, and they used to point it out quite a bit. “You’re not.”

---