Page 9 of A Longtime (and at one point Illegal) Crush

They were trying to tease away her embarrassment, but it didn’t help. She wanted to slide under the table. Could this dinner possibly be more uncomfortable?

As it turned out…yes, it could.

They weren’t even halfway through the meal when Mrs. Clark thanked Kye—again—for protecting Elsie during the Mathematics Decathlon. Carson asked about what happened, which meant Elsie had to sit there at the table and relive the whole thing again: how she’d broken the rules and gone outside with a hoodlum, how Kye had rescued her, how he’d called the police so she could file a report. Kye left out the part about the kiss, but it was there anyway. It was there in the way Elsie’s heart beat faster every time she was forced to look at Kye. It was there in the sympathetic way he kept gazing at her, slightly amused at times, as though he already thought their kiss was something she would look back at and laugh about someday.

Not likely.

Carson gave Elsie another lecture on safety—she never got tired of those after her brush with danger—and threatened to do several illegal things to Bono. Then he turned to Kye. “Thanks for saving my kid sister’s neck.”

“I’m glad I could be there for Elsie…for all of it.” Kye’s lips quirked up into an almost smile as he said the last part. It was so subtle Carson probably didn’t notice, let alone wonder what it meant. But Elsie couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Did he mean he was glad he was there for the kiss even though he’d rebuffed her? No, that wasn’t it. She was still reading things into his actions, although now the book was one penned with rejection. Kye meant he was glad he could set her straight. He’d known about her crush all along but had never had an opportunity to properly deflate it. Now he had.

She was literally going to start a countdown of how many hours were left until she graduated and didn’t have to see him again.

Elsie hadn’t expected to have any time alone with Kye and certainly didn’t want any, but as he was leaving, Mrs. Clark instructed Elsie to get a box of the rhubarb applesauce and give it to him.

“You don’t have to do that,” Kye told Mrs. Clark. “If you keep giving it to me, you won’t have any left for yourself.”

Mrs. Clark waved away his protest. “We still have plenty, and Elsie won’t help me eat the jars with the rhubarb—no appreciation of zing.”

Kye nodded, acquiescing, and Elsie was sent to get applesauce from the basement pantry. While she pulled a box from the shelf, she heard someone coming down the stairs. Kye. Had to be him. Carson wouldn’t have come to help her.

She left the pantry, tramped over to him, and shoved the box into his outstretched arms. “Here’s your zing. I hope you like it.”

“Elsie…”

“By the way, I didn’t know you were coming to dinner tonight.”

He shifted the box so he could hold it with one arm. “Yeah, that was pretty obvious by the way you threw your lamp at me.”

“I didn’t throw it at you. I dropped it in shock.”

Kye held one hand up as though she was being overly touchy—as though he had every right to hang out at her house, and it shouldn’t upset her to run into him when she was barely dressed. “I’m just kidding,” he said. “I didn’t really think you tried to club me with a random appliance.”

She was getting sick of his amused tone. She glanced at the stairs to make sure they were alone, then lowered her voice. “How could you come to dinner at my house?”

“How could I not?” he whispered back. “Your mother kept asking me for a day that worked with my schedule.”

Elsie let out a huff of exasperation. He was right. Her mother had most likely hounded Kye into coming. Applesauce wasn’t enough of a thank you for the man who’d saved Elsie from a hoodlum. Prime rib was required for that task.

Kye leaned closer to Elsie, so close she caught the scent of his aftershave. “Look, when you’re older, we’ll talk about all of this.”

He meant when she was mature enough to realize how stupid she’d been to throw herself at a teacher. It wasn’t a conversation she ever planned on having. “Have a nice night, Mr. McBride.” She walked around him and pounded up the stairs without waiting for a response. All the way to her room it bothered her that she hadn’t been able to come up with a better parting line.

4

After the graduation ceremony, while Elsie’s parents snapped pictures of her holding her diploma, Kye emerged from a group of black-cloaked faculty. He strolled up to her, waited for her parents to finish with their photo shoot, then shook her hand. “Congratulations. I know you’ll go far.”

“I plan to,” she said, meeting his eyes. “I’m going as far away from Lark Field as I can get.”

He looked at her questioningly, as though he wasn’t sure if she meant it.

She pulled her hand away from his. She meant it. But just so that her parents wouldn’t think she was being rude, she smiled the entire time she said it. “Thanks for being my teacher. I learned a lot from you.” She’d learned she wasn’t pretty enough or charming enough to tempt Kye into kissing her. She’d learned that age mattered much more than personality.

“Did you?” he asked, his expression unchanged. “Good. I hope my lessons stick.”

And then he was gone, leaving her with only frustration and a vague underlying humiliation rattling around in her chest.

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