Playing Hurt - By Holly Schindler Page 0,76

“Probably look different than the last time you saw me.”

He shrugs. “No—I mean, yeah, a little. And you’re really tan. But it’s still you. You could shave your head and wear a burlap sack and I’d still think you’re beautiful.”

Okay, daggers are flying straight into my heart and tearing out enormous chunks.

“Hey, Gabe,” Brandon says, jumping from the car. For the first time in my entire life, I feel grateful the little nitwit’s around. “I’ve got some pictures of my band. I’ll show you when I unearth my camera.”

“He’s really serious,” Gabe says, wagging his thumb at Brandon. “I mean, I always heard him and his friends playing when I came over, and they seemed pretty good and all, but—a real band? You guys were gone only three weeks.”

I nod. “He’s on fire now. He’ll probably get another band together around here before summer’s over. Good thing I’ll be in a dorm room in a matter of weeks,” I add with a roll of my eyes.

“Gabe, hon, we haven’t eaten yet,” Mom calls. “You want to stay for a late dinner? I could go to the store—”

What I wouldn’t give right now for a Mother Vaporizer …

“No way, Mrs. Keyes,” Gabe says. I’ve just started to breathe a sigh of relief when he adds, “You guys’ve been on the road all day. I thought Chelsea and I could drive to Hill Toppers’, bring back a couple of deep dishes. How’s that sound?”

By this point my heart is so torn apart, I’m not quite sure how it could still be beating. “That’s really sweet,” I say truthfully. How could I forget how sweet Gabe Ross really is? What the hell have I done?

“Come on, Chelse,” Gabe urges.

“I’ll throw your bags in your room for you,” Dad offers.

Gabe smiles as we head toward his ’Stang. “Get a bomb diffused over your vacation, too?” he asks, nodding back toward Dad.

“Yeah,” I say, watching Dad carry my bag inside. “Maybe so.”

I reach for the handle on the passenger side door of Gabe’s car. But I stop, my eyes trailing across the immaculate automobile. I remember Clint’s old GMC, all scuffed and banged. Rust spots. Torn seats. Roll-down windows instead of AC. The two vehicles suddenly seem as different as a wildflower in a field and a rose in a vase.

I climb in, aching for the sweet smell of something wild.

Gabe drives around the corner, veers the car straight toward the curb and shifts into park. “Come here and say hello to me like you couldn’t with your parents watching,” he whispers.

I lean in to kiss Gabe, shocked by the taste of his lips. I’ve grown so used to Clint, who tasted like sweat and heat and passion and sun and sex, that the taste of Gabe surprises me. He tastes like sweetness and comfort and safety and even, somehow—innocence.

I give in to Gabe’s kiss, letting it linger as long as possible. I refuse to pull away—until the thought crosses my mind that maybe I kiss differently now, after Clint.

“I missed you so much, Chelse,” Gabe says, running his fingers down my cheek.

He doesn’t suspect a thing—which relieves me and also makes me feel absolutely sick.

Clint

substitution

Shouldn’t be cooped up in here,” I say, sticking my head into the office of the Lake of the Woods main lodge. Kenzie looks up, the glow from her computer screen washing her face harshly. Or maybe it’s the frown that washes harshly across her face.

“Must have bumped your head in that fall, Morgan,” she grumbles, then turns back toward the screen.

“Girl like you,” I stutter. “Shouldn’t—ah—shouldn’t—” I can feel my cheeks flaming.

“What’s the matter with you?” she asks.

I rub my face. This is harder than I thought it’d be.

“I’m—I’m finally taking you up on your offer,” I say. “Or—I’m—you’ve always seemed like you were open—I mean—”

“Where’s this coming from?” she asks, leaning back in her chair. “I’m not stupid. And I’m not deaf, either. I’ve heard all the gossip around here. You and that basketball player. Talk exploded after that little accident of yours. Just confirmed every single thing I already knew was going on after I saw you two at Willie Walleye Day—and when I was out there sitting on the dock, watching you coming back from her cabin.” She grimaces, like she’s kicking herself internally.

My instinct is to just nod and tuck my tail between my legs as I slip back out of the office. But my promise to Chelsea keeps bouncing around inside my head—no more