Page 41 of Revved up & Ready

“This is so embarrassing,” she groans.

I sit on her bed so we’re facing each other, gently pulling her pink-and-purple-tipped hands away from her wide eyes. “Are you okay?” I ask.

“I’m fine. I’m being ridiculous.” She shakes her head, dropping her hands to her lap, revealing a thin yellow shirt thatdoes nothing to conceal the shape of her pointed nipples.Fuck. I can’t be thinking about her like that right now.“I shouldn’t have screamed when I heard the front door,” she admits.

“That’s why you screamed?” I ask, confused. “What am I missing?”

She sighs, the tension leaving her shoulders. “It might not have been thebestidea to get high and watch the scariest movie I’ve ever seen.”

I fight back the urge to laugh at the most adorable thing she could have said. “The movie freaked you out?”

“Yes, don’t judge me,” she says, pouting.

“I’m not. I would never.” My brow furrows. “Which movie was it?”

“The Shining. I wanted to checkwatch a scary movieoff my list.”

“And did you?” I ask.

“Not yet, but I should,” she says, leaning over to her nightstand. Her tank top hangs loosely around her cleavage, which I try very hard not to stare at. She slides open the top drawer, eyeing it like something might leap out at her. When nothing does, she pulls out a pink-and-white checkered notebook. “I don’t like being scared.At all,”she explains. “Even a little bit. But a lot of the best things I’ve done, I did while I was scared.” Sitting back down, she adjusts her tank top, exposing even more cleavage.Was that intentional?“So, I’m trying to do more of it. Being scared. A scary movie seemed like a less aggressive way to… I don’t know… build that skill?”

“That’s admirable,” I say, forcing my gaze to stay locked on her eyes. “A lot of people aren’t willing to do anything that scares them.”

“Don’t admire me too much,” she laughs. “Mostly, I’ve always wanted to watchThe Shiningbecause it plays at the drive-in during that one scene inTwister.”

“That’s adorable.”

“No one’s around to hear you say sweet things to me, you know,” she sighs. “Anyway, I was trying to sleep, and I kept hearing sounds. Or maybe justthinkingI heard them. For all I know, it was just Boo running around the backyard.” Her eyes dart over my shoulder to the dark L-shaped hallway beyond her open bedroom door. I look, too, but there’s nothing there. “I can’t stop thinking about the creepy ghosts, and feeling like they’re going toget me,” she whispers, the last two words barely audible.

“I won’t let anyone get you,” I say, pulling her fluffy blanket tighter around her hips.

“You can’t protect me from ghosts,” she murmurs. “No one can.”

“First of all, watch me,” I say, resting my hand on the bed beside her legs. “Secondly, I don’t think the ghosts in that movie actually hurt anyone, do they?”

She shakes her head.

“Maybe they were there to warn her of the real danger.”

“Pretty sure that wasn’t it,” she laughs, her voice light again. “If theywere, they were really creepy about it.” She flips open her notebook and starts browsing the pages. “This isn’t in any order. I just write them as I think of them. So, it always takes me a while to find the right one to cross off.” She pauses on a page. “I should probably just remove‘see a ghost’altogether at this point.” Her voice drops, sounding more to herself than to me. “I forgot that was evenonhere. I should probably start bowling if I ever want to bowl a perfect game. It’s not a full moon, is it?”

“It was last night, so almost,” I answer.

“Hmmm, I don’t think that would count,” she taps her pen on the page.

“Plus, I’m too scared to go outside right now.”

Struggling to follow her logic, I ask, “What does that have to do with bowling?”

“Oh, that’s not about bowling.” She cuts herself off. “It’s something else.”

“Now I’m dying to know,” I lean forward. “But you’re not gonna tell me, are you?”

“No, of course not,” she laughs, pulling the comforter over her face.

Wanting to be closer to her, I move fully onto her bed and lean back against the headboard. When I place my arm on the pillows behind her, she drops the comforter and stares at me silently for a long moment, eyes narrowed, jaw firm.

I almost break the silence, but there’s something happening behind her eyes that I can’t quite place. Her face is clear of makeup, and what I thought were a few light freckles turns out to be a lot more. Her lashes are soft, her brows almost unnoticeable. The waves in her hair have fallen by this time of night, and her pink-tipped blonde hair now reaches her shoulders.She looks soft and beautiful like this.

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