“If you really wanted that, Sierra, all you had to do was ask. And way to keep a guy in misery. If I’d have known a little strokin’ would’ve gotten me out of this, I would have offered weeks ago.”
I was frozen at his implication. I couldn’t tell if we were still kidding or stepping over a line that had never been breached. And then a goofy grin crossed his lips. He was kidding, of course. I should’ve known. That’s how Jeremy was. How we were. Always teasing. Never serious. As much as I’d always loved the dynamic, I was starting to hate it, too.
“But seriously, Sierra. Thank you. I love you. You’re the best.”
It was probably cliché, but I think another little part of me fell for Jeremy Banks right then and there. We’d said those three little words countless times. This was different, though. This time, those words brought on a whole flock of butterflies. This time, I wanted to rise on my tiptoes and kiss his lips.
A throat cleared, and I turned to see Mr. Turoff’s head inclined towards us, a single eyebrow lifted and his lips cocked in a lopsided, knowing smile. I jumped back from Jeremy and picked up the scalpel. His brow was raised, and a rush of embarrassment surged through me that my teacher had witnessed the interaction.
I turned my concentration to the little amphibian lying on my table. With less-than-expert precision, I placed the scalpel on the skin and held my breath all the way through the first incision. Surprisingly, it didn’t freak me out. When I glanced over at Jeremy, he wasn’t even paying attention. Rolling my eyes, I looked back down.
“What’s next?” I asked him.
A burst of exhilaration passed through me as he led me through the next few steps.
“Oh my God!” I declared. A thrilling sensation washed over me when the bones snapped beneath my fingertips.
“What?!” Jeremy asked, sounding distressed. He was holding his hands over his eyes, watching me through a tiny slit between his fingers.
“That was… that was amazing,” I breathed out.
“What?!” he repeated, his eyes widening behind his hands.
“Cutting into the sternum… It was…so freaking cool!” I exclaimed. “The crack and the pop. I feel so in control right now.”
The rest of the class went by rather quickly. I was lost in the dissection of that frog, fascinated with every step. Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t about to apply to medical school or anything, and it was probably the last time I’d ever cut anything open. Still, it was such a rush. I hadn’t even realized I was in such deep concentration until the taste of blood tore me from my examination.
I cursed and wiped the lip I’d bitten into, looking up to find Jeremy staring at me. His eyebrows were lifted, one slightly more than the other, while his eyes were focused on me, watching intently. I didn't miss the way his lips were parted or how his face was flushed. So I narrowed my eyes and lifted the safety goggles up on my head.
“What? Do I have frog guts on me or something?”
He cleared his throat and shook his head as if trying to erase a thought. “Umm. No. No, you’re good. I’ve just never seen you so focused before. You were in your element. As gross as this whole thing is, I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
My eyes widened, and my heart starting beating erratically. I told myself to calm down and not read too much into it. I needed to change the subject.
Taking the scalpel, I pointed to two bean-shaped organs inside the frog. “Congratulations, Daddy. It’s a boy! Check out the testes on this guy!”
He paled again.
This time, I was the moment ruiner, and I hated myself for it.
Freaking frog testes.
THE BUZZ IN THE air surrounding Navarre High School was similar to the one on the first day of school. This one, however, was more electric. More excited. We were one assembly away from stepping out into the sunshine and enjoying the next three months on the beach, not worrying about a single thing.
I, however, wasn’t excited in the least bit. Not even close.
Frankly, this summer was going to blow.
I scowled when I saw Sierra leaning back against the wall outside the field house. Danny Moyer, quarterback and asshole extraordinaire, was next to her with his arm over her head, pressed against the building. He was gazing down at her and standing far too close for my taste. I was waiting for Sierra to roll her eyes at his obvious flirtations and push him away, but she didn’t. No, Sierra did the opposite. My stomach clenched tight when she fluttered her lashes and smiled up at him. The bright, shining, wide smile that was usually reserved for me.
Fuck.
One of my buddies and teammates, Jace McAllister, shoulder-bumped me and grinned. “You better go save the day, Banks, before Moyer sinks his claws into your best friend.”
I frowned, wrinkling my brow. “What are you talking about?”
He chuckled. “Somehow Sierra’s completely flown under the Moyer radar all year, but after the way she cheered for you at our last baseball game? Not anymore. And, since he and Heather broke up, he’s on the hunt for his next piece of arm candy.”
“He and Heather broke up?” That was news to me. It made sense though, since I’d found a note with her number in my locker last week. Not that I’d ever use it. Heather Perkinson was a little too…perky for my taste.
“Yep,” he said, popping the P. “And the other word on the street is that she’s ready to move from the quarterback to his star receiver. Wouldn’t that be something? You and Heather, Sierra and Danny? You two could double-date!” He laughed as if he’d just said the most hilarious thing.
“Jesus Chris, McAllister. Do you still have your man card, or did you lose it when you were playing bingo with the gossiping old ladies last night?”
He just shook his head. “I’m just giving you a fair warning, Banks. You may be quick on the football field, but you’re clearly slow when it comes to matters of the heart.”
I turned to gape at him. “Matters of the heart? Seriously, McAllister. Where do you come up with this shit?”
He started to speak, but I held a hand up to interrupt him.
“Wait. Don’t tell me. You spend your free time watching Titanic and crying every single time Rose lets Jack go.”
His face turned red, and I knew I was right. But he shrugged me off. “It takes a real man to be comfortable watching that shit. You just may learn a thing or two if you do.”
I was about to remind him that we were fifteen—for me, almost sixteen—year-old dudes. I wasn’t, for any reason, watching that shit.
“Jace, don’t let Jeremy fool you. When I made him go see Message in a Bottle, I caught him shedding a few tears. There’s a soft heart underneath all that brawn.”
My eyes widened when Sierra’s voice chimed in. God, how long had she been there?
“Nice to know, Sierra. I’m manly enough to admit I did the same. Damn Nicholas Sparks,” he said, shaking his head as if the memory were painful.
Which, indeed, it was. I had vowed that it was the last time Sierra got to drag me to a chick flick.
Jace turned back to me. “Think about what I said, Banks. Don’t strike out before you even have a chance to get up to bat.”
With that, he left us alone.
“What was that cryptic baseball metaphor in reference to?” she asked, staring at his back as he walked away from us.
“I have no idea. You know how that guy is. Romantic quips and all that shit. It’s a shock he doesn’t have a girlfriend.”
“I know you’re being sarcastic, but you’re actually right. He’s super cute, and in those baseball pants? Whew,” she said, fanning herself.
My jealousy flared. “Seriously? You have a thing for Jace McAllister?” I asked, trying not to seethe.