Don't Go Stealing My Heart - Kelly Siskind Page 0,51
she hadn’t used his preferred name. He wasn’t even sure she’d known he existed. Stomach swooping like an X-wing fighter, he chanced a glance up. “Sorry.” One word was easier than two.
“Why are you sorry? That prick”—she nodded down the hall—“is the one with shoulders too big for his body. You’re the one who stopped to help.”
He half-smiled, hiding his braces best he could, and silently thanked his granddad for his top-notch advice. They packed the rest of her things, hands brushing a few times. He’d never felt anything so soft. When they were done, she stood, and he was forced to do the same, with more difficulty. He maneuvered his bag in front of his groin.
“So,” she said.
He offered a tight-lipped smile.
“You don’t talk much.”
He shook his head.
“Is it the stutter?”
There was only so long he could play the silent card. Sighing, he said, “Yeah.”
Charlotte’s big eyes went soft. “I had a lisp as a kid. Not as bad as your stutter, but it was embarrassing. Kids made fun of me.”
“I w-w-wouldn’t have.” He wished he’d known her then, but she’d moved here a couple of years ago. Swept in with her red-apple cheeks and Cinderella eyes, upending his life without even knowing it.
“Thing is,” she said, “I still talked. I didn’t let it stop me.”
Because you’re nice and beautiful and your hair looks like a bed of sunshine.
The hall emptied out. She sassed out her hip and raised an eyebrow.
He diverted his eyes to the ground. “The guys are d-d-dicks. And you can c-c-call me Jack.”
“Okay, Jack. They can be douches, but they’re not all bad. And they’re not here now.”
No, they weren’t. The hall was almost empty. Jack should head to math. He’d never skipped a class before. He didn’t want to miss today’s geometry lesson, but he was standing in a candy hallway with a sunshine girl, who wasn’t cough-shaming him.
Charlotte tapped her heels, then her toes, doing an impromptu dance. “I took tap classes until it wasn’t cool anymore, but I loved it.”
“You’re good.”
“Whatever. I’m fine. Now tell me one thing about yourself, Jack David.” He opened his mouth, but she held up her hand. “And you have to use actual sentences. I won’t tease you.”
Five minutes ago he would have given his model airplane collection to get Charlotte alone, be allowed to watch her pink lips form her consonants and vowels. Now he wanted to disappear. He eyed the fire alarm. Could he pull it without her knowing?
“Times a tickin’, Jack. Tell me something. Ask me a question. I’m not moving ’til you do.”
Sweat slicked his armpits. The fluorescent lights felt like blasts of heat radiation. Why did she even care? She’d never said a word to him, let alone waved hello. Yet here she was, wide stance, arms crossed, staring him down.
His eyes flicked to the fire alarm again, to the sheet tacked beside it. A promotion for the dance, which was a week and a half away. They planned to play old fifties tunes at it, the type of music Jack loved. Elvis Presley. The Everly Brothers. Dean Martin. He liked dancing, too, moving and singing, his body and tongue loosened by the beats. He’d rather swing Charlotte around the gymnasium than string together three words for her.
She waved in front of his face. “I’ve heard you talk, Jack. Just ask me a stupid question.”
A door slammed shut. His saliva was practically glue. When she huffed and moved to leave, he blurted, “Will you go to the d-d-dance with me?”
Her mouth dropped open. He almost reached for that damn alarm. Go to the dance with him? He couldn’t look at her without his dick hitting warp speed. Dance with her? Yeah, right. Not like she’d say yes anyway. All he’d done was invite ridicule and rejection when she was just being nice.
“Sorry. Forget it.” He turned, bag still guarding his crotch, and hurried toward the stairwell, needing to get away and inhale fresh air. He’d skip math after all. Get notes from Marco. He leaned his shoulder into the door, gave it shove.
A quiet “Yes” stopped him cold.
He glanced back. Charlotte hadn’t moved. She chewed her lip and bounced her knee and rolled her eyes. “Yes,” she said louder. “I’ll go with you. It’ll be fun. But don’t wear that preppy stuff. It does you no favors.”
She strutted the opposite way, like she hadn’t just changed his life. Like she hadn’t elated and terrified him with equal measure. Jack was taking Charlotte