Right at the moment that Kent McFuller walks through it.
We lock eyes, and in that second it’s like the classroom folds in two and all of the distance disappears between us. A zooming, rushing feeling comes over me, like I’m being beamed up into his bright-green eyes. Time collapses, too, and we’re back on my porch in the snow, his warm fingers brushing my neck, the soft pressure of his lips, the whisper of his voice in my ear. Nothing exists but him.
“Mr. McFuller. Care to take a seat?” Mr. Daimler’s voice is cold.
Kent turns away from me and the moment is lost. He mumbles a quick sorry to Mr. Daimler and then heads for his seat. I turn around, following him with my eyes. I love the way he slides into his seat without touching his desk. I love the way, when he pulls out his math textbook, a bunch of crumpled sketches come with it. I love the way he keeps nervously fiddling with his hair, running his hands through it even though it swings back into his eyes immediately.
“Miss Kingston. If I could trouble you for just a second of your precious time and attention.”
When I turn back to the front of the room, Mr. Daimler is glaring at me.
“I guess for a second,” I say loudly, and everybody laughs. Mr. Daimler folds his mouth into a thin white line but doesn’t say anything else.
I flip open my math textbook, but I can’t focus. I drum my fingers on the underside of the desk, feeling antsy and exhilarated now that I’ve seen Kent. I wish I could tell him exactly how I feel. I wish I could explain it somehow, that he could know. I watch the clock anxiously. I can’t wait for the Cupids to come.
Kent McFuller is getting an extra rose today.
After class I wait for Kent in the hall, butterflies making a mess of my stomach. When he comes out he’s carefully holding the rose I’ve sent him, like he’s afraid it will break. He glances up, serious and thoughtful, his eyes searching my face.
“You going to tell me what this is about?” He doesn’t smile, but there’s a teasing lilt to his voice and his eyes are bright.
I decide to tease him right back, even though being so close to him is making it hard to think. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He holds the rose out and flips the note open so I can read it, though, of course, I know what it says.
Tonight. Leave your phone on and your car out, and be my hero.
“Mysterious,” I say, holding back a smile. He looks ten times more adorable when he’s worried. “Secret admirer?”
“Not so secret.” His eyes are still roving over my face like there’s the answer to a puzzle written there, and I have to look away to keep from grabbing him and pulling him toward me. He pauses. “I’m having a party tonight, you know.”
“I know.” I rush on. “I mean, I heard.”
“So…?”
I give up on playing with him. “Listen, I may need you to pick me up from somewhere. Twenty minutes, tops. I wouldn’t ask unless it was important.”
He crooks one side of his mouth into a smile. “What’s in it for me?”
I lean forward so my mouth is inches away from the perfect shell of his ear. The smell of him—freshly cut grass and mint—is addictive. “I’ll tell you a secret.”
“Now?”
“Later.” I pull back. Otherwise I won’t be able to stop myself from kissing his neck. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I was never like this with Rob. I can barely keep my hands to myself around Kent. Maybe dying a few times messes with your hormones or something. I kind of like it.
His face gets serious again. “What you wrote here…” He fingers the note, folding it and unfolding it, his eyes dazzling, swirling with gold. “The last bit…the hero thing…how did you—?”
My heart is beating frantically, and for one second I think he knows—I think he remembers. The silence is heavy between us, everything past and remembered and forgotten and wanted swinging there like a pendulum. “How did I what?” I can barely breathe the words.
He sighs and shakes his head, gives me a weak smile. “Nothing. Forget it. It’s stupid.”
“Oh.” I realize I’ve been holding my breath, and I exhale, looking away so he won’t see how disappointed I am. “Thanks for your rose, by the way.”
Of all the roses I’ve gotten it’s the only one I kept. It’s my favorite, I’d said, when Marian Sykes delivered it to me.
She looked up at me, startled, and then looked around, as though I couldn’t possibly be talking to her. When she realized I was, she blushed and smiled.
You have so many, she said shyly.
The problem is I can never keep them alive, I said. I have, like, a black thumb.
You have to cut the stems on an angle, she said eagerly, then blushed again. My sister taught me that. She used to like to garden. She turned away, biting her lip.
You should take them, I said.
She stared at me for a second as though suspecting a joke. Like, to keep? she said, reminding me of Izzy.
I’m telling you, I can’t have any more flower homicides on my conscience, I said. You could take them home. Do you have a vase?
She paused for a fraction of a second more and then broke into a dazzling smile, transforming her whole face. I’ll keep them in my room, she said.
Kent cocks one eyebrow. “How do you know that I’m the one who sent it?”
“Come on.” I roll my eyes. “No one else draws weird cartoons for a living.”
He puts a hand on his chest, acting offended. “Not for a living. For the love of it. Besides, they’re not weird.”