“How… where did you learn to do that?” I tried to keep the surprise out of my voice but had no idea if I was actually successful.
He dropped the wet wrapper into the green waste. “Camp.” He stared at me like I should know what that meant. “I was gone most of the summer, Parker. I was a counselor at Etiwanda.”
“Oh,” I said, and nodded like I'd noticed he'd been gone. Maybe that explained how I'd missed his growth spurt? “Sure.”
“Not much to do there after lights- out. So the counselors got together in our cabins for some fun and games. You know?”
“What do you mean, kissing games?” I asked, sort of shocked at myself for getting so personal, and horrified at the prospect of what he might say.
He screwed up his face into a look that read: Uh … yeah. “Seven minutes in heaven, spin the bottle, truth or dare. And some I'm not even sure had names.” He studied my face. “Why? You think that's stupid?”
“No!” He gave me a “What's your problem?” look, so I took a breath and continued. “No,” I said again, calmer. “I don't suppose you know how to make a loop with a cherry stem, too?”
“Why?”
“Just asking.”
He pointed at my supermarket bag. “You got cherries in there?”
I nodded.
“I set the record. A loop in forty- eight seconds.”
Jeez, what kind of camp did he work at? And was it too late to sign up?
He leaned against the broom handle. “What's with the sudden interest in camp? Or, should I say kissing? Is your boyfriend complaining?”
I choked out a laugh. “No. No complaints.” From any guys. Yet. “Just—well, I mean, who couldn't stand to get a little better?”
He held my gaze long enough for me to realize that his eyes were dark blue—like the deepest part of a lake or the sapphire birthstone I was hoping to get set in my senior- class ring. But I couldn't decide if that color looked good in a person's face or not….
“You want me to show you my cherry looping?”
I considered it. Then I realized I wouldn't be able to see anything but the end result. So I shook my head, then shrugged as if this had been a silly conversation anyway and went back to my scraping.
He clearly got the message that we'd moved on, because he laid down his broom and set off toward his garage. Moments later, his return was announced by the rolling of trash- can wheels. Stopping in the street, he scooped a clump of grass into a dust pan, chucked it in the trash, then turned to me.
“So who is he?”
“Huh?”
“The new guy. When I left for camp, you and your boyfriend had broken up. Or so people were saying. Who's this one? A senior?”
I just stared at him.
First of all, incoming freshmen were talking about my love life? Really? I mean, I knew playing soccer gave me a certain visibility, and being friends with Chrissandra Hickey was only good for anyone's rep. But the idea that stats on my life had trickled down to the middle school level astonished me.
And then there was the problem of how to respond. There was no new guy. Luke didn't count. He was just… Luke. And no way was I explaining about Heartless and varsity. “I can't really talk about it,” I finally said, and did a Chrissandra- like hair toss that I hoped would shut him up.
“What, it's in the works?”
I frowned.
“You're trying to steal a guy away from someone?”
Wait a minute—I didn't want that kind of gossip going around about me. But would it really be worse than the plain truth? I just shrugged. Not a yes, not a no.
“You can probably pull it off.”
I didn't know how to respond to that, so I was just as happy that he kept talking.
“If you're looking to make real points with the guy, I can fill you in on some things. You know, like different techniques—Caterpillar Kisses, Butterfly Kisses. And the Steam Kiss—”
“Whoa,” I said, putting my hand up. It was starting to feel like he was the one about to be a junior all of a sudden, and I was the know- nothing ninth grader. Even if I did know nothing about these things.
“Oh, do you know all this stuff?” he asked, his gaze challenging mine as he rested his broom against the trash can.
“Sure.” I stood up to look him in the eye. I might have been a few inches shorter, but I'd had two years of drills from Heartless on how to stare down your opponent.
“Yeah, so what's a Steam Kiss?”
A no- brainer (probably). “A kiss that's so hot that imaginary steam comes out of your partner's ears.” Did I just say that?
He made an irritating sound like a game- show buzzer. “Wrong. What's a Caterpillar Kiss?”
I had to admit my confidence was slipping. All I could think was, two people lying stomach- down on the ground with their heads up so their mouths could meet.
Tristan must have seen the confusion in my eyes, because the next thing I knew, he was in my face.
“Tell you what, Parker. I'll show you.”
“Show me?” I wasn't at all sure I liked where this was going.
“Don't worry, our lips won't even touch. Just stay where you are, and don't move.”
I wanted to move, all right, to thrust my palms forward to keep this neighbor- boy froshie out of my body space. Who did he think he was?
But I was also hungry for knowledge. So I did a quick scan to make sure the street was empty and there would be no witnesses. And I told myself that as long as our lips stayed apart, it wouldn't count as an official kiss, which could come back to haunt me. Right?
I locked my limbs in cautious anticipation and looked up at Tristan Murphy's dark blue eyes as he stepped in closer. And closer.
He must have bent his knees, because his eyes suddenly were level with mine. Then his hands secured themselves on my upper arms, and he leaned in until his eyebrows were pushed up against mine. I thought I might laugh—not that anything was funny—but steeled myself into paying attention in case I decided to use this on Luke.
Tristan tilted his head so that our foreheads touched, then started this gentle crisscross motion, rubbing our eyebrows. It kind of tickled, and made me want to laugh, or at least smile—if not at the sensation, then at what we were doing.
But it also felt good—silky and soft. Making me forget the silliness, making me want to get closer, to snuggle up—
Wait. What was I thinking?
I should be pushing him back onto his property. Because—gah!—what was I doing in a face smush with the Murphy kid?
He must have sensed my change of heart, because he pulled back. Or maybe he was just finished.
“That,” he said, like some sort of campus professor on the subject, “was a Caterpillar Kiss. It's all about the eyebrows. And a Butterfly Kiss starts out the same, but it's the bringing together of eyelashes.”
“I'll take your word for it,” I said, shuffling on the pavement to regain my full balance. And to take back the power.
“And the Steam Kiss—”
“Enough,” I said sharply.
“Okay, well, we couldn't do that one outside, anyway.”
Something strangled in my throat. What? Like we'd only do it behind closed doors? Omigod, this was moving into out- of- hand territory. I shook my head and composed myself. “Look, you can finish up here without me, right?”
He shrugged.
“Because I gotta go.” I was suddenly incredibly uncomfortable.
“Okay,” he answered, as if he knew something I didn't. “But if there's anything I can do to help you with this guy, just ask. You know, I can be discreet.”
“Don't tell me,” I said flatly, “—you're cool like that?”
A frown settled slowly into his brow, and for a long moment, he just stared at me. “What, you're mad now? You're the one who brought the cherries and the Starburst over. You're the one who wanted to know about camp and kissing games.”
Crap—he was right. “Yeah, well,” I said, pulling my bike off the curb, “I guess I thought it was sort of cute. You know, how freshmen fill their time while waiting for their lives to begin.” I didn't intend to be mean; it just sort of spilled out of my mouth.
I could see anger spark in his eyes. “Like you can talk. Sixteen and never been kissed.”
“I've been kissed!” Suddenly I was okay with mean. I found my balance and set off on my bike, not even bothering with my helmet.
“The back of your hand does not count!”
I circled back around, not entirely sure what I was going to say, hoping it would somehow be brilliant.
But his voice cut through the air. “You'd better find someone to teach you this stuff, Parker, if you're ever going to keep a boyfriend. Because it sure won't be with your sparkling personality!”
I pedaled fast in a full circle, pretending not to hear. Little did Tristan know that keeping a boyfriend was the least of my worries. All I was concerned with was keeping my friends and my place on the team alongside them.
As well as keeping my cool. And the last thing I needed was my own neighbor feud.