Moment of Truth - Kasie West Page 0,40
farthest leaps.
Amelia looked up at the leaderboard with his mention of a competition. “Hey, you’re number three.”
My eyes went to the board as well, and sure enough, J. Holt was in the number three spot, which of course made me want to strap on some gear and go charging off the bridge.
“Is that from tonight?” Amelia asked.
“Last summer. Think you can beat me, Moore?”
This time I was going to ignore the desire. “I would, but you probably cheated.”
He gave a small chuckle.
“Why were you hanging out with Hadley’s parents today?” Amelia asked.
I shot her a hard look.
“They seem to like me. I can’t help that I’m so likable.” He met my eyes as if challenging me to contradict him. I couldn’t this time. Even though I had avoided my parents so they couldn’t tell me that very thing today, I knew it was true—they did like him.
Amelia let out a small yelp. “Look who’s here.”
I followed her outstretched finger to see DJ standing by a group sitting on a plaid blanket.
“Did you invite him again?” I asked.
“No, I swear. But I better go claim my territory before Naomi does.” She skipped off, leaving me behind with Jackson.
“Isn’t that guy like thirty or something?”
“He’s eighteen. He graduated last year.”
“Oh. I was way off.”
A girl stood on the jump platform of the bridge, all strapped in, her ponytail sticking out from beneath the helmet. She stepped up to the edge, then over it, a scream echoing behind her the whole way down.
“It’s not very hot,” he said.
I paused. “What?”
He nodded toward my drink. “You’re not drinking it. I thought maybe you thought it was too hot.”
“Oh. No . . .”
“You don’t like hot chocolate? Are you more of a hot cider girl?”
“Ew. No. Only people over eighty like hot cider.”
He smiled big. “I love hot cider, but I can never find it around here.”
“That’s because nobody likes it.”
He laughed. “You’re probably right.”
“Have you tried Starbucks?” I suggested.
“They only sell hot apple juice. Not the same thing.”
“If you say so.”
His attention was drawn to my cup again. “So, seriously, why aren’t you drinking it?”
Why didn’t I want to tell him? Maybe because people had been making me feel weird about my strict commitment to swimming lately. There was nothing wrong with commitment, sacrifice. “I avoid sugar when I can.”
A horrified expression came onto his face. “Why?”
“It helps me swim better.”
“Wow” was his only response, and I couldn’t tell if it was an impressed wow or a patronizing one.
I gripped the cup a little tighter. The heat seeping into my palms felt good.
“Don’t you want to know something about me now?” he asked. When I only lowered my brows, he said, “I found out something about you. Now you ask me something. It’s what friends do.”
“I found out about your cider preference. That was a friendship deal breaker for me.”
He smiled, but I could tell my indifference was really bugging him. He was used to everyone liking him, and I didn’t. Was this why he couldn’t just walk away from me: He really was determined to make me his friend? To prove he could? I almost laughed out loud at this realization. He needed everyone to like him. I could ask him one question about himself. That wouldn’t be hard. I stared at him for a moment.
His brown hair was a curly mop on his head. It was short on the sides and longer on top. Did his dad have curly hair? His mom? Had he ever grown it out long? No, those weren’t questions I could really ask, so I continued down to his face. Like I’d noted before, he had green eyes. But he was lucky: instead of having my pale skin, he had an olive undertone to his. His lashes were thick and curled up. Did guys curl their lashes or was that natural? My hand reached into my pocket only to find it empty. I’d left my earphones at home. Not that I was going to put them in right now, but just feeling them in my pocket helped me relax.
His lips were on the thin side and his teeth were very white. I could tell that because he was smiling big right now. “Did you have braces?” I finally decided on.
“Yes, I did.”
There. I’d asked him a question. My eyes were on the leaderboard again, seeing his name and the distance he’d jumped. “Why don’t you do any sports, Holt?” I emphasized his last name with my question. He