Page 47 of Kiss Collector
“Of course.” He uncrosses his arms to tweak my chin. “Glad you guys could come.”
My heart picks up speed as I look at him. “Dean?”
“Yeah?”
I have to go for it. I really wish there was a beer in my system, but I’m sober, and I have to push forward in a rush. “Did you write those poems? The ones Mrs. Warfield read out loud?”
He grins. “The ones about the girl making out with the straw?”
I roll my eyes with a smile. “Yeah, those.”
He shakes his head slowly, and I narrow my gaze, trying to figure out if he’s lying. He’s still looking straight at me, like he’s trying to figure me out, too.
“Why? Did you like them?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say quietly as he continues to ponder me.
“I know you wrote that one about your parents.” His face turns somber as my stomach wobbles. I look down at my feet. “It was good, Zae. But...” I look back up at him as he chooses his words. “Maybe when you’re hurting it’s best not to...”
“Best not to what?” I grit my teeth. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
He looks away, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not saying that. It’s just... not every guy’s an asshole, okay?”
“I know that,” I say, softer. ButdoI know that? Because lately all I can see is the negative. All I can see is that even guys like Dean and Vincent will hurt a girl at some point, like my dad did. And maybe I’m mad at myself because I still feel drawn to Dean—I still crave love—knowing it won’t last. Itcan’tlast. I still desperately want the impossible, and I hate it.
“I need to go check on Kenzie,” I say. He nods, and I turn away, swallowing back all the emotion he brought out in me. That did not go as planned. And I still don’t know if I buythe fact that he’s not the poet, though he has no reason not to admit it. Unless he’s waiting until the perfect moment to tell me. Ugh. I want it to be him.
As I’m walking with my head down I see a pair of black boots and I stop, looking up into the gorgeous face of Rex Morino, all sharp edges and darkness. My insides seize as I jolt to a stop.
“Zae.” His voice is nonchalant. Uncaring. But the interest in his eyes gives him away. I am not in the mood for this.
“Do you remember the eighth-grade dance?” I blurt.
His eyes scrunch. “What?”
“The eighth-grade dance. You danced with me. Do you remember that? And you said you’d be right back, that you were going to get us drinks, and then you left with another girl. Remember?”
He stares at me for a long time, and then his brow smooths. “Kind of.”
“Well, I remember it clearly.”
“Wait...” The corner of his mouth goes up in a smirk. “Is that what this is about? You’re trying to get revenge for something that happened when we were kids? Something I barely remember?”
“I don’t want revenge, Rex. I wanted a kiss. Just like you wanted a quick rub up against me at the dance and nothing more. No biggie. Let’s both move on, okay?”
His eyes harden. “Damn, you’re a bitch.”
“And you’re a dick. So we’re even.”
I push past him, feeling a heavy load fall off my back, making me walk taller. Hopefully I squashed his stupid, fakepuppy love once and for all.
I find Lin and Kenzie dancing with a ton of other people by the truck, and I join them. Some of the kids from school are staring at me, and lean together to whisper. They must have seen me and Rex talking. When I get closer to my girls, Lin’s eyes widen and she pulls me aside.
“Listen, don’t freak out okay?”
My body tenses with an oncoming freak-out. “About what?”
“Kenz was really upset when we left you, and she was crying and people were, like, what’s wrong? and she told them you were mad at her for talking about your kiss list.”
