How to Quit Your Crush Page 7

  “Don’t wear that shirt again,” I order.

  He stiffens, his eyes flashing. “Come again?”

  “I like that shirt. Don’t wear it again.”

  He pauses a heartbeat, and then a shit-eating grin works across his face. His dimple winks at me. “You do, huh?” He drapes one forearm over the wheel. “Just so I know, is it the color you like? The way…it fits?”

  My skin temperature shoots up another few degrees. “You are not being helpful. We’re trying to get over this.”

  “And the purple shirt is not helpful?”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  He nods agreeably. “Fine. If we’re making requests, I find it very sexy when you button your shirts up to your neck. It would help if you undid a few.”

  I roll my eyes. “Very funny.”

  “Speaking of clothes, I brought you something.” He leans into the backseat and comes up with something beige and floppy.

  “A hat?”

  “It’s my mom’s hiking hat. You can borrow it until the project is over.”

  “What’s wrong with mine?”

  “The brim is too wide and stiff. It’ll get in the way when we start work on the trail.”

  “Oh.” I study the hat. “Is it UV protected?”

  “Yep. And it’s made from recycled diapers.”

  I nod, and then his words sink in. “Wait—what?”

  His dimple appears. “Kidding.”

  I set it on my head, and it fits perfectly. “What do you think?”

  “You look hot in that.”

  “It’s your mother’s hat.”

  He winces. Then he jerks the hat off and tosses it in the backseat so quickly that I can’t help laughing. “I’m going to be scarred for life now.”

  “You’ll definitely need therapy.”

  “Don’t sound so happy about it. It’s your fault for being beautiful.”

  “You can’t call me beautiful. Inappropriate fling comment.”

  “I take it back. You’re a troll.” His eyes glitter. I feel like I’ve climbed into the car with a feral cat. He reaches over and slides his fingers through my hair.

  “Anthony!” I grab his hand to stop him.

  “Sorry. Wasn’t thinking.” He honestly looks as surprised as I am that his hand was in my hair. “It was sticking up from the hat.”

  “Oh.” I let go but not before he winces in pain. Startled, I look closer and see an angry red scrape down the side of his hand.

  “Ow,” I murmur. “How did you do that?” I gently turn his hand in both of mine. The side is streaked with red scrapes, and the soft new scabs tell me it’s just happened. “Did you do this today? Trying to get to me?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  I haven’t been able to forget those few minutes. Anthony flying up the trail, wild and intent, grabbing branches for hold and vaulting past the others. The way he planted himself in front of me. It was kind of impressive.

  And extremely hot.

  I’m having an unexpected Me, Jane, You, Tarzan type of reaction. I spent a good hour this afternoon convincing myself it only seemed awesome because of my fear. But now that I’m studying the scrape on his hand, I decide to admit the truth. It was awesome. He was awesome. “I was so embarrassed today. Now I feel worse.”

  “Don’t. I liked coming to your rescue.” His fingers slide across mine. His hands are calloused and marked with more scars than I can count. I’ve never held a hand like this. Never imagined I would.

  His thumb flickers across the center of my palm. My stomach tightens. I never imagined I’d feel like this, either. I pull my hand free. “No touching, remember?”

  “You started it.”

  Flustered, I tug at the hem of my shirt and raise my chin. “Because I was concerned for you. It was a health…thing.”

  “And that’s allowed? Good to know.”

  “The point,” I say, refocusing, “is that I don’t need rescuing.”

  His eyes dance, his mouth curving at one end. “Not even from sticks?”

  “That stick looked very lifelike.”

  “Don’t worry. I killed it.”

  I groan at the smile in his voice. “You must think I’m a wimp.”

  “What I think is that you’re scared of snakes.”

  I point to his hand. “Did you put antiseptic on it?”

  “Washed it out really good.”

  “You need antiseptic. And clean gauze to cover it. And wash your hands before you apply the antiseptic.”

  He laughs. “I’ll put some on tonight. And you don’t need to worry about snakes up there. As a group, we make a lot of noise, and most of them want to avoid us as much as we want to avoid them.”

  “It’s the ‘most’ that worries me.”

  “You always been afraid of snakes?”

  My mind takes the well-traveled path to the day I got lost. The grass rustling. The slithering movement not more than five feet from where I huddled. Was I afraid before then? Before then, was I afraid of anything? “I’m not sure, to be honest. But I know I need to work through it. It’s good for me to challenge myself.”

  I can feel him watching me. “Is that why you’re doing a trail project? To challenge yourself?”

  “Partly.”

  “Because you don’t seem comfortable out there.”

  I exhale a hollow laugh. Understatement. “It’s not my favorite place.”

  “And you think you’re a wimp?”

  “I am.”

  “Mai.” His voice is almost annoyed. “What you’re doing is brave. How do you not see that? Or are you so used to taking risks that it isn’t a big deal?”

  “Me? Ha!” I stare at him with what must be saucer eyeballs. “I never take risks.”

  “You’re having a fling with a knife-carrying delinquent, aren’t you?”

  “You haven’t robbed a convenience store or beat up an old lady, and we’re already ten minutes into our fling. Not much of a delinquent.” I shrug. “And for the record, I only do irrational things around you.”

  “You say irrational, I say brave.” He stares out the windshield for a minute. He’s seeing more than the row of bushes that line the lot. “What time do you need to be back?”

  “Library closes at nine. Summer hours.”

  He shifts in his seat and puts the car in drive. “Plenty of time.”

  “For what?”

  “Change of plans.”

  “What? No. I don’t like changes in plans.”

  He smiles again. “Then you’re really going to hate this.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Anthony

  “This is an awful plan. Mean and cruel and vile.” Mai adds a stomp of her foot as an exclamation point.

  Her reaction is even better than I hoped. “You said we should do something one of us would hate.”

  “This is not what I meant!” Her voice rises as she flings a hand toward the sign ahead of us: Reptile House.

  “Good thing I’m not trying to impress you.”

  “What are you trying to do? Kill me!”

  Heads turn, and a few people slow to make sure no one’s life is in danger before they walk past.

  The Phoenix Zoo is still crowded even though it’s dark—crowded because it’s dark. Summers here are brutally hot, and I can remember Mom bringing us at night or in the early mornings when Troy and I were kids. It was the only time you could see the animals awake and moving. I mostly remember the lions and the cinnamon churros, but it’s a cool place at night. The paths are well-lit, and they’ve got lanterns hanging in the trees, flowering bushes everywhere, and a big lake. It’d be a great place for a date. Romantic.

  Not that this thing with Mai is a date. Not that anything about tonight is romantic. Mai has a fear, and I’m going to
help her push past it. And she’s going to hate every minute of it.

  It’s a win-win.

  “I’m not going in,” she says, arms crossing over her chest.

  “Yeah, you are.”

  “In fourth grade, my teacher, Mr. Hoyer, also insisted I go inside during a field trip. I sat on the cement floor with my head between my knees and sang ‘Jingle Bells’ until it was time to leave.”

  “I hate that song.”

  “So did Mr. Hoyer.”

  I smile at the image of Mai in rebellion. I never pictured her acting out in school, but she’s got that stubborn, willful streak. Same one I was accused of more than once. “Did you get in trouble?”

  “Yes. My parents made me write a five hundred-word apology enumerating the ways in which I was disrespectful and might have handled the situation more appropriately.”

  “Of course they did,” I say drily. “But did they bring you back?”

  “No.”

  “Then how were you supposed to face your fears?”

  “This fear is exempt.”

  I frown. “Because?”

  She won’t meet my eyes.

  “You don’t have to tell me. We can just go in.”

  Her chin lifts, eyes glaring. But I know she’ll tell me if it means stalling.

  “Fine,” she says. “We did a family hiking trip when I was seven years old. I saw a snake.”

  “What kind of a snake?”

  “I’m not sure. I thought if I closed my eyes and didn’t see it, then it wouldn’t see me. But I could hear it. That was worse.”

  “A rattler,” I say. “What did your parents do?”

  “They weren’t there.” Her shoulders shudder, and she rubs her arms as if she’s cold. I step closer without thinking, my hands lifting to pull her to me before I remember I can’t. I stick my hands in my pockets instead.

  “It was my fault,” she adds. “I saw a deer trail and decided to explore. I ended up lost.”

  “For how long?”

  A couple strolls by, holding hands. Mai smiles at them as they pass.

  “How long, Mai?”

  “Can we move on, please?”

  “When you answer.”

  She sighs. Loudly. “Three hours.”

  “It took them three hours to find you?” My fingers curl into fists as I picture her alone in the desert. Lost. Freaking out. A snake hissing. I want to kill that snake with my bare hands, and I want to hug her. And I can’t do either. The snake is long since dead, and I’ve got Rule 5 to follow. I’m itching with frustration, and Mai looks like she’s barely holding it together.

  To hell with rules.

  I step in again, put my arms around her, and pull her against my chest. She lets out a startled breath of air. Her spine stiffens for a second…then relaxes.

  “You’re breaking the no-touching rule,” she says.

  “Yeah, I am.”

  There’s another breath and then her voice, muffled against my chest. “Fine. For one minute.”

  Smiling, I pull her closer. I slide my arms across the curve of her back, one hand lifting into the cool softness of her hair, cupping her head against my heart. The scent of flowers is strong in the air but nothing near as good as the sweet smell of her hair. “No wonder you were so scared today. How did they leave you alone all that time?”

  “It wasn’t their fault.” I feel the hesitant touch of her fingers at my waist. “They warned me it could be dangerous. I should’ve listened when they said to stay on the trail.” Her throat works over a swallow. “It’s okay, Anthony. It was years ago.”

  “It’s not years ago in your head, though, is it?”

  She sighs. Her hands slide all the way around me. “Two minutes,” she mutters.

  I smile again, glad to feel her relax.

  “I guess I was more tense from today than I realized.”

  “You’re spending every day in a place that scares you. Why wouldn’t you be?”

  “It gets easier every day. My parents are both so proud I’m doing this. But,” she finally steps back to put space between us, “they would never, ever make me face an actual snake.”

  I nod with understanding. “Then it’s a good thing they’re not here.” I grab her hand.

  She shrieks. “Wait—you’re not still—”

  “We’re going in.”

  “Let go of my hand. No touching!”

  “It’s for health reasons.”

  “I can’t go in there.”

  “You can with me. You do all kinds of out-of-character things with me. Remember? You just said so.” Still, I let her hand go. It has to be her choice. “You want to get over this?”

  “Yes.” She folds her arms over her chest like a grumpy child. “But not if it means going in.”

  “You know they’re behind thick glass. They can’t get you. They can’t touch you. Even if they could, I wouldn’t let them.”

  She closes her eyes on a groan. “I didn’t say it was a rational fear.”

  “Well. The best way to get over irrational fears is to face them in a safe, controlled environment.”

  When her eyes flash open, it’s with a challenging glare. “And what are you afraid of?”

  I tilt my head, thinking. “A girl I want to kiss. Constantly.”

  Her eyes soften in a way that makes me want to hold her again. “You’re only saying that to wear me down on Rule 5.”

  “Come on,” I say. “I’ll lead the way. I’ll even hold your hand, but only for health reasons.”

  Her lips lift in a tiny smile. She looks toward the door of the reptile house. At my hand. “Fine. For health reasons.”

  I slip my hand around hers and give it a light squeeze. “We’re going to do this, and it’s going to be no big deal.”

  She nods and squeezes back as if she’s drawing strength from me. “But if I need to leave, we leave.”

  “Absolutely.”

  The entryway is lit from above with small yellow globes so it feels darker inside and definitely cooler. Air conditioning buzzes, and the stone walls and pebbled path add to the chill. There are enclosures on both sides, glowing from within. She turns her face into my shoulder, but at least there’s no “Jingle Bells.” That’s a good sign.

  “We’ll start with the lizards. You got a thing about lizards?” I ask.

  “Yes.” Her breath catches, speeds up.

  I squeeze her fingers again, my mind scrambling for a way to help her relax.

  “Grant sort of has a lizard nose,” I say. “Don’t you think?”

  “What?” That makes her look up. “He does not.”

  I start us walking. “Squat. Weird discoloration on the end.”

  “That is such a lie.”

  “Amber has a nice nose,” I add.

  “I saw you flirting with her.”

  “She’s got a beautiful name. Amber. It’s my mom’s birthstone.”

  Her voice is a grumble. “It’s the color of over-vitamined urine.”

  I bark out a laugh, the sound echoing in the enclosure. Mai stops and looks around. She’s just now realized we’ve walked past three enclosures while we were talking and we’re standing in front of a snake. Multiple snakes. She turns her face into my shoulder again.

  “You okay?”

  “As long as I don’t look.” She pauses. “Are you wearing cologne?”

  “No. It’s my soap.”

  “I like it.”

  “I’ll throw it out.”

  She laughs into my shirt. Then she pulls back, her eyes wide with surprise. “I’m standing in front of snakes, and I’m laughing.”

  “Is that a good laugh or an I’m-losing-my-mind laugh?”

  She thinks a second. “It’s a good one.”

  A grin spreads acro
ss my own face. I made Mai laugh in the Reptile House. The thought puffs me up like I just hit a home run, and I want to take my stroll around the bases and soak up the applause. Jeez, grip a grip, Adams.

  I clear my throat and turn back to the snakes. “Let’s meet some more of these guys.”

  “It’s not that good of a laugh.” Her gaze shifts over the backlit enclosures. Her knees wobble.

  “I got you.” I tug her forward. “Come on. I want you to meet Felix.”

  “Felix?”

  I gesture to a diamondback rattler watching us from behind heavy glass. Its checkered body is draped over a thick branch, black eyes shining like marbles. “Think of a snake as having a name. A mom and dad. It’s not all that different from us.”

  “Oh right. Very similar. It has no arms or legs and yet, somehow, it can kill you faster than you can blink.”

  “Nah.” I squeeze her fingers. “It takes much longer than that to die of the venom.”

  “Anthony!” She smacks my shoulder with her free hand.

  It only makes me want to grin more.

  I’m not supposed to be grinning.

  I’m supposed to find her annoying. I’m supposed to be annoying. Would she be annoyed if I kissed her? Because I would really like to do that.

  I shake away the thought. The point is to get over this, not get in any deeper. Why should I care that she’s being all brave right now? Sure, I’m feeling protective of her—I’d feel that way with anyone. I’m just providing snake therapy. It’s a public service. She’ll get back on her high horse as soon as we’re out of here and I can go back to being annoyed.

  Refocusing, I nod to the diamondback. “Here’s what you need to know. This is the most dangerous type of snake we might come across. Most snakes aren’t venomous, and most people hike all their lives in the desert and never see a single one.”

  “Have you seen one?”

  “I have.”

  “And?”

  “And it saw me and slithered back the way it came. You have to remember snakes aren’t on the hunt for people. The trouble comes when a snake ventures out to catch a little sun and it doesn’t recognize the difference between a patch of dirt and a patch of dirt that’s a man-made trail.”