Playing Hurt - By Holly Schindler Page 0,15

my mouth, strengthening my lips against his, stretching our kiss from one moment to another, another.

“At this rate,” I say when we finally do come up for air, “it’ll take all night to get to twenty-one.”

“That’s just fine with me,” Gabe whispers.

As Gabe kisses me again, my eye wanders up to the sky. Our kiss cools as I realize that the Chelsea Keyes Star doesn’t look one bit brighter than any other star out tonight.

Clint

goaltending

You want to know what heaven is?” Kenzie asks as she comes banging out the kitchen door. She pauses to dim the lights in the dining room. She’s starting up right where she left off last summer. Even though I’d hoped that nine months apart would have cooled the ridiculous crush she developed last Fourth of July.

Her big hiking boots clomp against the floor as she sashays across the dining room of the lodge, which is empty by now except for the two of us. Candlelight and her hope wash over the walls. When she approaches the table where I’m sitting, her hips start working overtime, swiveling like seesaws.

I’m afraid of her question, but I don’t want to hurt her feelings, either. So I decide to play along. “Heaven … a never-ending line of pine trees on the horizon.”

“No,” she says, her voice all singsong.

“What, then?” I ask, folding my hands behind my head.

“Fried morel mushrooms, of course.” She plops a plate down on the table. “Handpicked by yours truly this afternoon. The chilled bottle of Coke is compliments of Chef Charlie, who has just retired for the evening.”

I nod, staring into the candle that flickers in the center of the table. We really are alone, then. Me and Kenzie, whose wavy chestnut hair is going all crazy down her chest, making arrows that point directly at her breasts.

Okay, Kenzie. I get it. I notice. I just choose not to do anything about it.

She slips into the chair on the opposite side of my table, props her elbows on the tablecloth, leans forward.

I push the camera she’s loaned me across the table. “There you go,” I say. I tell myself to pretend not to notice her little seduction scene. “Wildflowers and sunsets galore—black silhouettes of pine trees.”

“Postcards galore,” Kenzie corrects me with a smile, an adoring twinkle springing into her eye. “You always take the best shots around here. I swear, you single-handedly keep the gift shop in the black. Don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“Yeah—you poor helpless techie,” I say. “Updating the resort’s website, keeping all the vacationers from blowing their tops by maintaining their Wi-Fi connection.” I cringe, just like I always do when I think about Earl’s great Wi-Fi-In-Every-Cabin idea. If you ask me, it kind of spoils things a bit. “You’d never be able to take a few pictures with a digital camera.”

Kenzie sticks her tongue out at me, clutching onto the fact that I’ve teased her, that I’m playing. I know she’s decided to take it as an indication that I’m interested, and I instantly regret it. “Takes an artistic eye,” she insists. “Techies aren’t born with one.”

Her adoring stare is giving me the willies. I pick up the soda and guzzle about half of it all at once, to keep from having to say anything.

“Go on,” she says, pushing the plate of morels closer to me. “You get the first bite.”

I stare at the triangle-shaped slices that’ve been fried a perfect golden brown. “Heaven,” I mumble. My mouth waters. But I know if I take one, I’ll just be egging her on. I stare at her, wondering what my excuse is going to be this year. Last summer, I’d thwarted her advances with a shrug and a thanks for asking, Kenz, but I’ve just got too much to get done before I head down to the U. This summer? She’ll never buy it.

But it’s late in the day—I’m too tired to fight her. So I finally put one of the morel slices on my tongue.

“Good?” Kenzie says, the first of a whole round of questions she already knows the answers to. “Way to a man’s heart, right? Through his stomach? One of those clichés that really does turn out to be true?” She pops a morel into her mouth, her smile curling up from the edges while she chews.

Her voice hangs in the air above us. I don’t want to hurt Kenzie. But at this point, it’s painfully obvious she’ll never get bored with my disinterest. I’m beginning to