sex in order to trick you.”
“Okay. Good, I guess.” He coughs into his fist. “Good. I’ve been doing a lot of research.”
My eyes fly to his face, which is slowly but surely going as red as the coffee berries. “You have?”
“It’s been very interesting.” He stares off at the ocean for a second. “I didn’t know girls were so . . . complicated.”
“Don’t feel bad. I didn’t, either. I haven’t done this before, you know.”
“I kind of figured,” he says with a shy smile.
But he doesn’t say it like he thinks I’m unfuckable or anything. Just like he recognizes that this is as much of a big deal for me as it is for him.
“I did see this really sexy episode of the Scottish show yesterday,” I tell him. “So that’s probably all the research I need, right?”
“Oh, the Scottish show?” he says lightly. “I’ve seen that. I get why the ladies like it. That guy is ripped.”
“Agreed. He’s almost unbearably hot.”
“How am I supposed to compete with that?”
“Better do some push-ups,” I say.
The corner of his mouth twitches. “But does this mean you like redheads?”
I bite my lip against a smile. “Go team ginger.”
Our eyes meet. Then we laugh, and the tension between us dissolves. We’re both blushing.
We’re flirting. I am surprisingly into it.
Abby comes running up. “Josie’s mom says the coffee lady said that the chef is whipping something up for us, but it may take a while. Which is bad because I’m so hun-gry!” She suddenly seems to notice I’m not alone. “Hi, Nick.”
“Hi, Abby. Hey, I’ve got something you might like.” He heaves his backpack onto the table and rummages around in the front pocket before he produces a granola bar. “Here. It’s chocolate chip.”
“Oh my dog! Thanks!” Abby gasps. “You just saved my life!” She tears off the wrapper and takes such a huge bite I worry that I’m going to end up doing the Heimlich.
“That’s me,” Nick says. “Casual superhero.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“Do you want one? I’ve got one more.”
My stomach makes a pterodactyl sound. “I shouldn’t. I mean, don’t you want it?”
“I’d be happy to give it to you.”
I take it and wolf it down. Nick sits watching me. I narrow my eyes at him. “What’s different about you?”
I scan down his body. Same long, messy hair. Same wrinkled video-game-themed shirt. Same baggy shorts and dirty white sneakers. Then I figure out what’s missing. “Where’s your phone?”
“My dad made me leave it back at the room.”
“Oh my dog!” I exclaim for Abby’s benefit. “Are you okay? Are you going through withdrawal yet?”
He smirks. “Ha ha. I’m surviving . . . barely. I don’t get to take any pictures, though, which sucks.” He gazes around at all the fabulous scenery that surrounds us.
“I can text you some of mine,” I offer.
“That’d be awesome. Thanks.”
“Are you Ada’s boyfriend?” Abby asks, propping her chin in her hand.
He glances from me to her. “No. But I am a boy who’s her friend.”
“But you like her. Like kissy like,” Abby says.
He looks at me again. “You got me. I guess I do.”
“And she likes you.”
“Does she?”
“Yep.” Abby takes another enthusiastic bite of the granola bar. “Trust me. She likes you a lot. Her last boyfriend was an asshole.”
“Abby!” I exclaim. I’m blushing. I rub the back of my neck. “She’s right, though.”
“That’s . . . good to know.”
“So you should be her boyfriend, and she should be your girlfriend,” Abby says. “Have you kissed her yet?”
“No,” he says slowly. “Not yet.”
“You should,” Abby says.
“I will if she wants me to.”
Shit. I want him to. The magic is back: my palms are sweaty and my heart is racing and there’s a suspicious fluttering in my stomach. Or maybe I’ve just had too much coffee.
He has nice lips, I observe. Not too small or too big. A good proportion between the top lip and the bottom. They look soft, too. I wonder what they would feel like.
I make a mental note to start our time tomorrow night with kissing.
“A-duh. You’re not listening to me, are you?”
I blink. I’ve been zoning out. Worse, I’ve been daydreaming about kissing Nick while I’m sitting right in front of him. “I’m sorry, Abby-cakes. What did you say?”
“I said, I’m still hungry. Almost enough to eat Peter, I think.”
“Oh. Well, you’re just going to have to—”
“Lunch is served!” calls out the coffee lady from the patio. “It’s a simple spaghetti and meatballs, but I think you’ll find it quite satisfactory.”
The group assembles into a line