School Spirits - By Rachel Hawkins Page 0,48

was literally all I knew about my dad. Men don’t tend to stick around in the Brannick family.

Dex nodded slowly. “Sucks, doesn’t it?”

I hadn’t known my dad, so I didn’t miss him the way I missed Finn, but still I replied, “It does.”

A silence fell over the table, and I mentally kicked myself. I was supposed to be getting information out of him, not sharing personal feelings.

Ignoring the tiny voice that said maybe my interest in Dex was less than Brannick-y, I reached out and took his wrist. This time I was prepared for the little buzz that went through me. “You know, I actually like this man-bracelet,” I said, turning his wrist for a better look. I hoped it came off as jokey and kind of flirty, but really I was inspecting it for…well, anything. Maybe there were runes or something carved into the links.

Preening a little, Dexter leaned closer to me. “That’s because you’re a woman of taste. My Nana gave this to me. I have very strict instructions never to take it off.”

I looked up sharply at that. “Seriously? Never? Why?”

For the first time since I’d met him, Dex seemed a little uncomfortable. Taking his hand back, he shrugged. “Superstitious thing, I think. Nana, like you, has a touch of the Irish in her.” He turned his wrist, the silver gleaming in the fluorescent lights. “Supposed to be lucky, I guess.” And then he flashed that grin again. “And clearly it has been lucky, because I was wearing it when I met you.” He grabbed another fry from my plate. “My new best friend.”

In spite of myself, I laughed. “Oh, so now we’re best friends?”

He nodded very seriously. “Two fries I’ve stolen from you. That cements it.”

By the time Dex drove me home, I was thinking less about his bracelet and his Nana and whatever it was I felt when I touched him and more about how nice it was talking and laughing with a boy. Leslie and Everton didn’t seem to do much laughing. Mostly they were either crying or angsting or making overly dramatic declarations of love to one another. That had seemed kind of fun on the show, but I thought maybe this was better.

But those kinds of thoughts were pointless and stupid (and I clearly needed to stop watching Ivy Springs). It’s a job, I reminded myself as Dex opened the passenger door for me. He is a job. You don’t get to think things like how soft his hair looks. Or how nice his eyes are.

Dex walked me as far as the front door, and when he stopped there, my heart pounded in my throat. Oh, God, this was the part where kissing happened. I may never have been on a date, but I’d watched enough TV and read enough books to know that when you eat food with a boy and then he takes you to your door, kissing will occur.

And I was in no way ready for that. Kissing was another one of those things I’d meant to do more research on, just in case. Like, how did you know which way to turn your head? And what about teeth placement? What if there was a spit issue? Should I have taken Torin up on his offer to help me practice? Trying to keep the panic off my face, I turned toward Dex. “Right. So. Good night, then.”

He gave a little bow. “Until tomorrow, Fair Isolde.”

And then he leaned forward.

My heart was in my ears, and my hands were shaking. Okay, I could do this. It was just lips. Just lips pressing together, hopefully without spit. And tongues… tongues… Okay, actually, no. I could not do this.

I was just about to pull back when Dex reached out and…ruffled my hair. “Sleep tight!” he called cheerfully as he jogged down the front steps.

“Um. You too,” I replied, but I was so dazed that I didn’t get that out until he was already in the car, pulling away.

Was he going to ruffle my hair all along? Had I just imagined the way he’d looked at my mouth? Or had he seen the naked panic on my face and changed his mind?

I walked into the house and turned to face the little mirror in the hallway. At least that confirmed that, yup, hair and face, totally the same shade. “Magazines,” I whispered firmly at myself. “Tomorrow.”

Torin’s face suddenly appeared, frowning. “Are you talking to me? And why are you all beet colored?”

Luckily, Mom