Page 69 of My Debacle with De Lorenzo

I stop on the stairs to kiss my sister. “Don’t wait up for me. I told mom I’m studying at Lana’s tonight.” I stick my hand in Scott’s hair and ruffle it a bit. “Later, Dipshit.”

I close the gap between us and tentatively loop my arm around his as we walk to his car. “I’m...I’m sorry for being an asshole,” I whisper. “I shouldn’t have?”

He places his hand over mine. “The fight’s over. We’re just going to enjoy ourselves tonight.”

“Yo, Isa,” Scott calls out from behind me. “Go easy on my boy. He’s a sensitive soul.”

Seems like he’s as wary of me as I am of him. I half turn to wink at him. “I only know how to gohard, Scott,” I reply just to taunt him, and he shakes his head at my response.

Dylan waits for me to climb into the front seat of his Jeep and as soon as he closes the door, I hear a beep, and the buttons on the doors snap down. He walks around to the driver’s side and the car beeps twice.

“You locked me in the car again,” I say when he gets in.

“Did I? That’s weird.”

I’m not sure what to make of that. This is the second time that’s happened, so it can’t be a coincidence, yet he sounds like it was unintentional. It’s a silly thing, so I don’t say anything about it.

“So, who are you supposed to be? You’re not even dressed up.”

“Oh.” He reaches to the backseat and grabs a gray hoodie. He pulls it on and that tousles his hair and makes him look even sexier. The hoodie has a picture of spaghetti Bolognese on the front. “It’s abstract. My parents own an Italian restaurant,Piatto Pieno.” He shows me the logo on the bottom corner. “And my mom’s Bolognese is the most popular thing on the menu. So, this is supposed to be vomit on my sweater. Get it? Mom’s spaghetti.”

“Ohhh! You’re supposed to be Eminem fromEight Mile. Clever.”

He nods, looking proud of himself. “I wish Peter could see how tough I look tonight.”

“So tough. Nothing screams male dominance more than a picture of spaghetti. That is the attire that wins wars.”

“And I’m also really smart...for thinking of this whole...abstract concept of mom’s spaghetti.”

“Nobel prizes are waiting for you. Your intelligence is such a turn-on.” I shift a little and look down. “Shit, do you have some wipes because I am just gushing all over your fancy leather seats?”

Laughter bubbles out of him, and this feels like...us. It’s nice to not have that heavy tension hanging between us anymore. He pulls away from the curb, but we don’t even get to the end of the street when he abruptly stops in the middle of the road.

“I...uh...” He stares at the steering wheel for a few seconds before he sneaks a quick look at me. “I missed you.”

Oh, no, he didn’t. No, this motherfucker did not just turn me into a steaming pile of mush inside with three words. My heart is racing, and I’m...shy all of a sudden. I glare at him, trying to convert this uncomfortable warmth and excitement into anger, or at the very least, annoyance, but I can’t get it right. I continue to melt like a snowman in July.

“That was so cheesy,” I say with an equal amount of disdain and disappointment.

A small simper dances on his face but he doesn’t look at me when he starts driving again.

“Don’t make it worse by smiling,” I warn, and those cherry-red lips quirk up further. “Don’t!” Then a full-on grin breaks out on his face, and I just burst. “And did you have to stop the car just to say that? It wasn’t necessary.”

Staying focused on the road, he pulls his lips in to stop smiling, but it doesn’t work, and he ends up silently snickering to himself. It reaches a point where it’s more cuteness than I can bear, so I lean over, grasp his face, and slap a kiss on his cheek.

“Ugh!” I make a show of wiping off my mouth and chin. “Now I got cheese all over me.”

He erupts, his laughter not silent anymore. “Why do you like giving me so much shit?”

“I believe Louisa May said it best in Little Women.”

“Whatever you’re about to say, don’t say it.”

“He who grows up without shit also grows up with a small penis.”

“No one in the history of time haseversaid that, least of all Louisa May.”

“Read the book again, De Lorenzo. It’s in there somewhere.”

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