A Bad Day for Sunshine (Sunshine Vicram #1) - Darynda Jones Page 0,62
for her.”
Auri beamed at him. “Thank you.”
“We have a school project to work on. Is that okay?”
The man narrowed his eyes on his son, then agreed. He signed something really fast, and Cruz said, “Okay, fine.”
They walked past him and to Cruz’s room.
“What did your dad say?”
Cruz was busy picking up clothes and tossing them into a hamper. He moved a pile of books so she could sit at his desk. “He told me I’m still grounded until the stars burn out.”
“Oh. Wow. That sucks. What happened?”
“Nothing. A fight. Not even a fight. An almost fight. It’s all good.”
“An almost fight? Who’d you almost fight?” Then she remembered the kid in the hall. “Oh yeah. That kid from this morning. You weren’t suspended.”
“The kid told Jacobs we weren’t fighting.”
“Were you?”
He shrugged and sat on the edge of his bed. He’d been watching TV in his room with the captions on.
“Do you always watch TV with the captions on?”
He lifted a shoulder. “I got used to it. Dad thinks it helped me learn to read at such an early age.”
“Really? How old were you?”
“Is that part of the interview?” He seemed almost as uncomfortable as she was.
Embarrassed, she took out her notebook. “It’s a great hook. Especially with how incredible your poetry is.”
“You a writer or something?”
“I want to be. Or a detective like my mom. Or a brain surgeon.”
He didn’t smile when she said it.
“I’m just kidding. The last thing I want to do is play with people’s brains.”
“So, no zombie apocalypse for you.”
She giggled as the tension in the room eased. “I’m sorry I didn’t call first. I mean, I tried.”
“Yeah, still grounded.”
“Oh.” She shook her head. “I thought—”
“That I was ghosting you?”
“Something like that.” Of course, one had to be dating or in some kind of relationship prior to being ghosted to actually be ghosted, but she didn’t point that out.
He got up and walked out of the room, only to come back with a bottle of baby oil.
She gaped at him. “Um, I don’t know what you think is going to happen here, but—”
“You have pizza sauce.”
Once again, her cheeks heated to the red-hot level of habanero salsa.
He took a tissue and poured some baby oil on it, then leaned in, his face barely inches from hers, and wiped at the corners of her mouth.
She closed her eyes, both humiliated and intrigued, and let him. While his touch on her face was gentle, soothing, it was his other touch, his left hand on her knee, that sent tendrils of electricity lacing through her body.
He pulled the tissue back and showed her the red streaks. “All gone.”
“Um, thanks, but why baby oil?”
He shrugged. “Pizza sauce is very acidic. And your lips are already chapped.”
Embarrassed yet again, she covered her mouth with a hand, but he didn’t notice. He got a clean tissue, poured another couple of drops, then lifted it to her face again. When she didn’t lower her hand, he tugged it off her face and ran the tissue over her lips, the act feather soft.
His coffee-colored eyes studied her as he did it, and a warmth she hadn’t expected flooded every cell in her body. Then she noticed a scar on his arm.
She took his hand to maneuver his arm for a better look.
He pulled it back, and said softly, “Stop.”
She leaned away from him. “I’m sorry.” She stood and grabbed her backpack. “I’m . . . I should go.”
He stood, too, and put a hand on her arm. “Please, don’t.”
“Look, if you’re mad at me, just say so.”
“Mad? Why would I be mad at you?”
She really had no answer. “Be . . . cause.”
He stared at her a long moment, spending an inordinate amount of time on her mouth, before saying, “Great reason.”
“I thought so.”
“Look,” he said, sitting on the bed again, “I don’t always have the best social skills. I was raised in the deaf world. Their cultural norms are a little different from the hearing world’s.”
She sat at the desk again. “That is the coolest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
Smothering his confused expression, he asked, “Their cultural norms are a little different?”
“No, that you were raised in the deaf world. That’s just so cool.”
He cast her a soft scowl of doubt.
“Of course, that’s easy for me to say. As an outsider looking in. It must be challenging.”
“In some ways, it is.”
“Is your mom deaf, too?”
He stood and grabbed his backpack off the floor beside her. “No, she was hearing.”