“I know!” Gah. I’m yelling at him. “I mean, I know.” I fight to keep my voice steady and low. “I wouldn’t think you’d hit on me or anything.”
He looks at me like he’s studying me. Like I’m a puzzle he’s trying to figure out. I want to wish him good luck because I’m not sure what’s going on with me right now either. I look down at his hand on me again and damn it, my cheeks are on fire.
I hear him chuckle and it only makes me burn more.
“You ready?” he says and I feel a quick squeeze of his hand. Caleb walks me down his driveway. Trying not to make it obvious that I want it to take six months for us to reach his cabin, I walk slowly. A girl’s got to get her kicks somehow.
When we reach his rickety stairs he puts his other hand on the opposite side of my waist and leads me up. A little slam of guilt hits me because I’m not dizzy anymore. My legs don’t feel rubbery like I could fall, but still I let him hold me.
Caleb manages to hold me and unlock his door at the same time. A second later, we’re walking into the darkened cabin.
He turns on a light. All sorts of warmth and tingles dance around inside me when his arm stays in place. I can’t believe this is happening. Too good to be true usually means that - Oh my God - It probably isn’t true. I’m probably lying outside, bleeding to death from Heather’s death push and imagining this whole thing.
“Are you sure you’re okay? You look like you’re about to pass out on me.”
I decide then this can’t be a dream. If I were dying and creating this in my head, I wouldn’t do stupid things like looking like I’m going to pass out and the sighing earlier. “Yep!” Way too peppy for a dying girl.
“Sorry ‘bout the mess,” Caleb mumbles.
His cabin is even smaller on the inside than it looks from the outside. We’re standing in a small living room with a couch, chair and an old TV sitting on an even older wooden stand. In the corner is a black wood stove. Right across from the living room is a kitchen with a small, two person table that has definitely seen better days. The wood is weathered and faded. I don’t see the mess he’s talking about, though. His things are old, but not dirty. Everything is in place. “It’s not a mess. It looks great!”
“Yeah, real great,” Caleb grumbles.
Okay, maybe great wasn’t the best word. At least I’m again reassured I’m not dying unless you count from idiotism.
Caleb steps away, but still holds onto me with one arm. “Come on. Sit at the table and I’ll get a washcloth.”
Oh, I’m hurt. I almost forgot. Whoa, wait. Hold the phone; does he plan on cleaning me up? Engage heart attack.
All thoughts of sneaking out his bathroom window are gone. A near fight with The LP is so worth this. With Caleb’s help, I sit down.
His eyes dart around the room like he’s looking for something, then he says, “I’ll be right back,” and stalks down the hallway.
My eyes trace the room. There are no pictures on the walls. No school shots of Caleb through the years. No family portraits. Nothing. Even though it’s just me and Mom, my house is full of pictures. Everywhere you look there’s some kind of family memorabilia. I never thought about how comforting it is until I saw Caleb’s empty walls. My heart starts to ache.
Caleb walks back in the room, not giving me a chance to think about it anymore. He’s carrying two washcloths, a bandage and a tube of ointment. He stops walking right in front of me and stares. I can’t help but stare back. It’s like he has some kind of magical hold on me. I can’t ever look away when Caleb is around.
When I look in his eyes, I don’t see the boy who gets into fights, who’s been suspended, who skips school. And it’s not even just good looks I see, I swear. He’s vulnerable.
When he drops to his knees in front of me, I smile. Nothing could hold my lips from it right now.
“Um, I’m just gonna wash your face off. That cool?”
Yes, please. “You don’t have to. I can do it myself.” My voice shakes.
“Nah, I’ve cleaned up plenty of cuts and scrapes. No biggie.”
I try not and look at him while he wipes my face with one of the washcloths. He’s not touching my wound so I assume my forehead is dirty. Nice. A bloody, dirty forehead. I love that look.
Caleb puts the rag on the table and uses the other one to clean my wound. It stings a little. Nothing bad, but for some reason the cabin feels thick with pain. I don’t really understand it myself, but it does.
Risking a glance at Caleb, I watch him wince as he takes care of me. After he cleans it, he puts the ointment on. Please don’t let him hear my heart beating like crazy.
“I washed my hands.” He continues to spread the ointment with his finger. It’s then I realize how much this boy I hardly know is taking care of me. Then I think about his dad and his reputation. I’ve never heard anything about his mom so I don’t know where she is. I remember his comment about all the wounds he’s cleaned. I can’t help but wonder whose they were. If they were his, I wonder why no one was there to take care of him.
It doesn’t take much time for him to bandage my forehead. He hasn’t spoken since he told me he washed his hands. Words won’t come out of my mouth, but I know I should say something.
Caleb stands. “I’m going to put this stuff up real quick.”
While he’s gone I try taking a couple deep, quick breaths to calm myself. It only makes my nerves worse. He glances around his cabin before saying, “I’ll walk you home.”
At the same time, I say, “Thanks.” I smile, he half smiles. “Thanks for the help. Not the walk home. I mean, I would say thanks for the walk, but you don’t have to walk me. I do it all the time.”
Like he doesn’t know that. Gah, what’s wrong with me? He sees me walking all the time.
Caleb moves toward the door. “Not anymore, Kitten. Cavanaugh’s going to be pissed.”
The tingling is back and my mind is fighting over which comment to dissect. The fact that he’s making it sound like he plans to walk me home all the time because he doesn’t want The LP to bother me or that he called me Kitten. I have no idea why he’d call me that, but it sounds cute and I like it.
Biting the inside of my cheeks, I try not to break into a cheesy smile. I walk out the door. On the way, I see a trashcan on his porch with a half-full pack of cigarettes inside.
Chapter Six
A girl can only have so much back luck, and if I didn’t know better I would think I finally reached my peak. I’m still in shock Caleb plans to walk me home today. Yes, Caleb freakin’ Evans is meeting me at the line of trees in about forty-five seconds if my calculation is correct.
The icing on my good luck cake? Stacy missed school again today. Which is weird. The queen bee doesn’t usually leave her hive unattended so often, but I’m sure she’s evilly plotting her revenge or something. That’s what mean girls do, right?
See? I totally have good luck. Two boys, absentee bullies and a new job. Of course, that’s forgetting the fact that not long ago I was circled by a gang of Lipstick Nazi’s, but still.
I push through the door and pretty much skip down the hill. Not literally because I’m not a complete idiot, but it’s hard to keep the bounce out of my step.
Quickly, I glance behind me to make sure no one is watching and then pick up my speed a little. Caleb steps out from behind a tree and my stupid heart gets all giddy and dance-y again. Which then makes my even stupider feet start moving too fast and, yep, you guessed it, they get tangled and pretty soon I’m taking my second Caleb-witnessed nose dive into the ground.
I’m calling it a bad luck flashback.
Ignoring the sinking feeling in my chest, I push to my feet. Roll with it, Abbs. Act normal. Not like I have much choice because Caleb’s eyes are firmly on me and that ex-sexy, now annoying half-smile is tilting his lips.
Head high, I walk, much more slowly this time until I reach him and up close, annoying is gone and he’s sexy again.
“Have a nice trip?” he asks with a smirk.
My cheeks burn which is getting really old. I need to do something about this blushing thing. “Ha, ha. Very funny.”
Caleb shrugs and I memorize the way his shoulders rise and fall. “I thought it was.”
I try to act like it doesn’t bother me that I’m a complete idiot. “Hey, I’m the one with the comedy hour, remember? Stop trying to be funny.” Hmm, pretty good. I’m proud of myself considering most of the time, it’s hard to talk in complete sentences around him.
“You definitely provide the entertainment.”
I reach out and smack his arm, surprising myself. Wow. When did I become so good with boys? “Whatever.”
He turns and starts walking through the woods. I file in beside him, running different sentences through my head like crazy, vetoing all the really lame ones. Okay, so maybe I’m not good with boys yet, but I’m working on it.
Pretty soon the sound of our feet shuffling through the leaves starts echoing so loudly I fear I might go insane. I say the first thing that pops into my head. “What’s your last class? You always seem to get home early and today, you beat me down here.”
He shrugs again. It’s like his trademark or something.
“Open period.”
There’s more to it than that. The only people who have open periods are those who have enough credits to graduate without them. Usually that’s saved for the honor roll kids who took extra credits during the first few years. No offense to Caleb, but he doesn’t strike me as the type. My tongue is begging me to ask, but I don’t. Didn’t need a secret decoder ring to figure out the topic is closed for him.
I wrack my brain for something else to say a little disappointed he took the wind out of my sails, when I remember what I had wanted to tell him the other day. “I got a job! Tonight’s my first night.” Gabe pops into my head. Oh, and this really cute guy might come and see me! Somehow, I didn’t think Caleb would care about that and for some reason; I don’t want him to know anyway.