Play On - Michelle Smith Page 0,76
“Babe, your voice is beautiful and angelic and sounds like a heavenly chorus, but if I hear one more word out of that book tonight, I’ll yell.”
She cocks an eyebrow. “Really?” she asks sarcastically. “You know everything?”
I sit up all the way. “Everything. All of it. I know all the things in that there book.”
“You’re so full of crap that I can actually smell it.”
“That’s kind of disgusting.”
She stares at me for a moment with her lips pursed, like she’s trying to decide if I am, in fact, full of crap. Finally, she cracks a smile and says, “All right.” She pulls my study guide sheet from the back of the book. “I’ll quiz you. If you get all my questions right, we’ll stop for the night.”
Fair enough. “And then what?”
“Winner’s choice.”
The girl’s a pro at motivational tactics. I lace my fingers behind my head and lean back against her pillows. Bring it on.
She holds the paper up, shielding her face. “Name three of the most common strong acids,” she says.
Easy. “Hydrochloric acid, hydrobromic acid, sulfuric acid.”
“Next, define a weak base.”
Just as easy. “It’s a chemical base that doesn’t fully ionize in an aqueous solution. Boom.”
She lowers the paper. “Really?”
“I can go all night, Marlowe.”
“Did you forget who you’re talking to?” She crawls up the bed until she’s sitting beside me, then flops back against the pillows and stretches her legs alongside mine. She glances at me out the corner of her eye, her lips twisting into a smirk.
She’s not playing fair. This is distracting, damn it.
“I can go all night, too,” she says. “Plenty of questions on here. Neutral pH is—?”
I drape my arm across her shoulder. “Seven. You could at least try and make it hard.”
She looks back to the paper, and her smirk grows into a grin. She sits up a little straighter. “’Kay. True or false: your tongue is a great indicator as to whether something is an acid or base.”
My jaw drops. “What the hell?”
She bursts out laughing. “I swear, it’s an actual question.”
I snatch the study guide from her and scan the page. Yep. Number eight, talking about tongues and crap. Shaking my head, I hand it back to her. “True. But I know you picked that one to throw me.”
“Well, that’s a gimme since you saw the answer.” She places the guide on her nightstand. “But you passed, you Chemistry genius.” She slides her hand across the back of my neck and pulls me down for a kiss.
Her bedroom door’s wide open. We’re on her bed. And the only light is coming from the lamp on her nightstand. If anyone walked by—
Screw it.
Closing my eyes, I kiss her back, slow and soft and, Lord have mercy, it’s hot in here. She slides down until she’s flat on the bed, giving me room to move on top of her. She tangles her fingers in my hair, holding me to her, not that she really has to.
Footsteps stomp up the stairs. And I’m suddenly on the floor beside the bed.
Ow.
I rub the back of my head, wincing as I sit up. Dr. Marlowe stands in the doorway, his arms crossed as his glare settles on me. “How’s it going in here?”
“Good,” Marisa and I both say, though I’m shocked I’m even conscious.
Her dad flips the light switch, turning on the overhead light. I wince at the sudden brightness. “Interested in that gun collection now, Austin? Because it’d be my pleasure.”
Marisa chucks a pillow across the room. “Bye, Dad.”
He slowly backs into the hallway with his eyes never leaving mine. And only now do I realize my heart’s racing faster than a NASCAR driver.
Rubbing my head again, I look up at Marisa, who’s leaning over the edge of her bed. “You really had to throw me off the bed? Really? That was a thing you had to do?”
She holds out her hand. “I’m sorry! I panicked. Are you okay?”
She helps tug me to my feet. I crawl back onto the bed, though that’s probably not the best idea. He didn’t see anything, but her dad’s not stupid. I’m pretty sure he’s cleaning one of those precious shotguns right about now. “This arm’s insured, you know. Coach’ll have your rear for that.”
She shoves me, making me laugh. “So what was winner’s choice?”
It’s a little late for that now. “Well, I wanted to drive out to the pond, but now I’m scared of your dad. How painful would my death be if I tried?”
She looks at the door.