Slow Burn (17 page)

“Oh, shit.”  She gasps weakly when we’re in the parking lot.  She drags her feet dramatically.  “That was epic.”

“Hi-lo?” I laugh.  “Really?  What are you, a
Muppet?  Hi-lo, everybody, I’m Heather the Frog.”

She buries her face
in her hands, giggling.  “I was flustered!” she says, her voice muffled.  She drops her hands, and steps up to me.  “Juliet, you have to tell me every single thing you know about her.”

I could have sworn I parked down this row, but I don’t see my dark blue car anywhere.  “I don’t know that much,” I answer Heather, leading her down another row.  “I have her in my AP Lit class
.  She doesn’t talk a whole lot—not to me, at least.  I don’t know if she’s ever dating anyone.  Um…she hangs out with Dean sometimes, but they’re not together.  I can ask around for you—and don’t worry, I’ll be subtle about it.”

“I don’t care if you are.”  Heather shrugs matter-of-factly.  Then her face turns thoughtful as she looks off into the distance.  “How do you spell her last name?  I want
to look up her on online.”

I give her my best guess as we wander around, looking for my lost car.  Did it get stolen?  My phone beeps with an incoming text message, and I glare at it.

Heather laughs at me.  “Is that Johnny again, and his one hundred and fifty-seven reasons why you guys should get back together?”

I frown down at the phone in my hand.  “
No, he’s been really quiet since the whole serenading mess.”

“Oh, my god, the look on your face!  I’m so glad someone posted it on their profile.
”

“Damn it,
” I huff in exasperation.  “It’s hard enough seeing him almost every day.  Sometimes, when we’re just talking to each other like before, I forget, and I want to…I don’t know.  But then I see
her
—or I replay what happened in my head—and I get so pissed off.  Oh!  There’s the car!”

“Jule.”  Heather hurries to keep up with me.  She touches my arm.  “You could forgive him, you know.  You guys could work through it.”

“No.”  My voice hardens.  “I can’t.  I can’t even stand to look at him, sometimes.”

Heather opens her mouth, then clamps it shut.  She shakes her head.  “You’re right.  Why would I try to convince you to take him back?  He’s a disaster.  Let’s get some ice cream and forget this conversation ever happened.  Except the part about Sloane, because I really want to know
everything there is to know about that foxy bitch.”

“I don’t even know if she swings that way, Heather.
”

“It’s okay.  If she’s i
nto dudes, I’ll make it work.”

I don’t even know what she means by that.  Really don’t want to
.

******

Chapter 12

I get back from Dad’s around two in the afternoon, and immediately head into the kitchen
.  Mack texts me to let me know Nick will be hanging out with us, so I double everything I make.  I really only mean to make the lasagna, but somehow I end up with sausage paella and banana muffins as side dishes.  I tend to cook like a fiend when I have a lot on my mind.  I’m sure it won’t go to waste, not with those guys around.

Mack
texts me that he’s back from church, so I load up my car with the steaming hot dishes, and head over to his house.  I’ve never been there before, but I know the area, so I’m confident I can find it.

The Aina house is a spra
wling ranch style property, not too far from Nick’s place.  Mack gives me a tour of the inside, and I have to fight to keep my expression neutral.  The house is cluttered with knick knacks!  There are Precious Moments figurines displayed everywhere:  in huge glass cases, over the mantel, on shelves running along the walls of the living room—on almost every available surface of the kitchen.  There are Precious Moments salt and pepper shakers!  A boy and a girl stare at me with dead eyes when I pick them up to examine them.

Speaking of
Mack’s kitchen.  No wonder he always wants me to cook for him.  He shows me the contents of his refrigerator and pantry, and I think there must be some kind of mistake—is this where they keep their animal feed?

“Alfalfa,”
Mack says in an injured tone of voice.  “Now how the hell am I suppose to feed these bad boys eating nothing but rabbit food all day?”  He flexes his massive arms, muscles bulging and veins popping.  Yeah, they look hungry.

He leads me outside to the pool area, and it more than makes up for the inside. 
The large kidney-shaped pool is surrounded by palm trees, and Tiki torches staked into the planter bordering the area.  There is the cutest Tiki bar set up in the corner, and I swear I smell coconut-scented sunscreen in the air.  If I had a set up like this, I would spend every day on one of the chaise lounges, basking in the sun and my wealth.

We put my covered dishes on a large glass table that
Mack has already set with plates and silverware.  Boys never seem to remember napkins, though, so I go into the kitchen to grab some.

When I come back out, Nick is letting himself in from the side gate.
  He looks so relaxed and cheerful, I’m almost willing to forgive him for his part in Johnny’s boy band scheme.

“Ouch,” I say when I spot the huge yellowing bruise on his
calf.  “What’s that from?”

“That’s a souvenir from Friday’s game,” he says wryly, lifting his foot and examining the bruise.  “Courtesy of Number 23.”

Mack snorts, placing a pitcher of iced tea in the center of the table.  “Little punk.  Me and Johnny got him back good for you, though, huh?”

Nick grins.  “Yeah, you did.  Never saw a guy cry for his mommy like that.”  He plops down at the table, settling the backwards baseball cap on his head more securely.

“Rough game?” I ask sympathetically.

Nick shrugs.  “Larrabee’s pretty tough.  They really stepped up their defense this year.  I think they could make the playoffs.”

“So, what?  We’ll still stomp their asses, like we did Friday,” Mack says with complete confidence.  He stares intently at the Mexican lasagna as he lovingly unwraps the foil covering.

“Did, uh, anyone else get hurt?” I try to ask casually.

“Nah, Adler’s the only pussy on the team,” Mack says with a sly grin.

“Excuse me, did you se
e the size of the guy who took me down?  He made
you
look delicate.”

I have to laugh at
Mack’s unamused expression.  “Let’s eat before the food gets cold,” I suggest quickly.

Mack
immediately brightens.  It’s a good thing I made so much, because they guys just inhale everything.  I’m ridiculously pleased with their over-the-top compliments on my cooking skills—which is just mediocre, to tell the truth. 

“Oh, shit,” Nick groans, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his flat stomach. 
“I ate so much, I can’t breathe.”

Mack
leans forward, peering into the lasagna pan.  He immediately glares at Nick.  “Tell me you didn’t eat that last piece.”

Nick tilts his head to look at him.  “Are you kidding me,
Mack?  You ate, like, half the pan.”

“Maybe I was saving that last piece for a late night snack.”

“Mack, I can make you more,” I say.  I hand him a banana muffin as a peace offering.

He flashes me a brilliant smile, brown eyes glowing as he accepts the muffin.
  “Thank you, beautiful girl.  If I could move right now, I would give you a big ol’ sloppy kiss.”

I laugh, leaning back and basking in the
late afternoon sun like a lizard on a rock.  “You could always serenade me again.”

Mack
chuckles, while Nick shakes his head in embarrassment.

“Yeah, sorry about that,”
Nick says sheepishly, scratching at the light stubble on his chin.  “It was a bad idea.”

“What are you talking about?”
Mack protests in a deep jolly voice.  “Man, it was awesome.  Everyone loved us!  I still think we should form a group.  Check it out—we could call it ‘Mack and Those Other Guys.’”

He spreads his hands in the air as if conjuring those words in the space in front of him.  Nick and I look at each other and burst out laughing. 

“What?” Mack says, looking offended.  “That’s awesome, right?”

“I can totally see that,” I gasp, sitting up.  “And you could wear those super shiny suits and do this a lot.”  I get up and start doing my best boy band impression, clenching my fist and scrunching my face in angst-y passion. 

The smile drops from Mack’s face.  “No shiny suits.  Uh-uh.  Not on this island boy.”

Suddenly, a machine gun noise blasts through the air
.  Startled, I jump up, my full stomach forgotten.

“Sorry!” Nick apologizes, reaching into the pocket of his shorts.  He brings out his phone
, and squints at it.  He taps the screen several times, then grins big enough for the dimples in his cheeks to pop out.  “Oh, hell, yeah,” he  murmurs.

“What’s up?” 
Mack nods his chin at him.  “Angie send you a dirty pic?”

“Nah, Dean did,” Nick replies absently, still smiling d
own at his phone.  “It’s freaking hot.”

Mack
’s brow furrows, and he looks at me.  I give him wide eyes back.  “Dude, I know Youngblood’s real pretty, but he’s still a dude.  I didn’t know you had those kinds of feelings, man.”

“Huh?”  Nick, completely oblivious, looks up excitedly.  “Dude, he found my car.”

“Oh, shit—the Chevelle?”

“Cherry red, baby.”
  Nick looks so cute right now, his hazel eyes lit with pleasure.  He looks over at me, and explains.  “It’s my dream car.  Dean found a guy over in Covington whose got one.  It’s been sitting in his garage for, like, months—it belonged to his dad who died last year.  The old man was a car nut—the Chevelle was his baby.  He spent a shitload of money fixing it up, then just when he was about to fire up the ol’ V8—bam!  Dropped dead of a heart attack.”

“Poor guy.”

“I don’t know, man,” Mack says, running a hand over his shaved head.  “She could be bad luck.”

“I don’t care,
Mack.  I’ll have her blessed by a priest.  Look at her—she’s beautiful. I’ll carry a lucky rabbit’s foot, and bathe in holy water.” 

Nick slides his phone across the table to
Mack, who catches it, looks at the screen, and lets out a low whistle.

“Dean says the guy will meet us at eight tonight.  You in?”

“Covington, huh?”  Mack muses.  Then he shrugs.  “Sure.  Why the hell not.”

“Cool.  What about you, Juliet?” Nick asks me.

“Oh.”  Surprised to be included, I hesitate for a second.  “Who all is going?”

“Just us and Dean.”  Nick gestures to
Mack and himself.

“Oh,” I say again.  “Uh, I thi
nk I’ll sit this one out.”

“Okay, I’ve been meaning to ask,”
Mack says suddenly, peering at me.  “What’s the deal with you and Dean?  And don’t tell me nothing, ‘cause every time someone mentions his name, you get that look on your face.  Like you wanna stab yourself in the forehead with a fork.”

I start to deny it, but Nick chimes in before I can.  “Yeah, what’s up with that?  Girls usually get all giggly when his name is ment
ioned—but you…you just look pissed.”

“It’s nothing,” I say quickly.  They both just stare at me, raising their eyebrows.  I blow out a breath.  “No, it really is nothing.  It’s stupid.”

The guys exchange looks, then by some unspoken code, they both lean closer to me, intensifying their stare.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat.  “I don’t want to say.  I’ve never
even told Johnny because it’s too embarrassing.”

“Hey, whatever it is, it won’t leave this table,”
Mack promises solemnly, dark eyes serious. 

“Yeah, we swear.”

I tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear.  “I—it’s really stupid, guys.”

“Would it make you feel better if
Mack and I revealed something embarrassing about ourselves?” Nick asks.  “That way, you can be sure we won’t tell anyone, since you’ll have something on us.”

I pause, nosy enough to be intrigued.  My thing with Dean really is stupid, and I would probably have admitted it to them after a
bit more coaxing on their part.  But…I wonder if they have anything juicy to reveal?

“Okay,” I say slowly, trying to sound reluctant.  I look at Nick.  “What’s your big secret?”

Nick exhales softly.  He takes off his cap, and places it on the table, running a hand through his tousled chestnut hair.  “You know how I’m always late?  It’s because I get lost,” he blurts out.

“That’s it?” I say disappointed, and
Mack makes a disgusted noise in agreement.

Nick looks up.  “No, like…it’s really bad. 
If I didn’t have my phone, I’d be completely screwed, and even with it, I still get mixed up.  It’s like I’m dyslexic with directions.  I walk a block from my house, I get lost.  I get all turned around, and I don’t even know which direction I came from.  Once, I tried to take a different route home from school, and I ended up at a biker bar on Grand and Fifth.”

“
Moe’s?” Mack asks.  “My cousin Suli eats there all the time.  Never order their tacos.”

“That’s not so bad,” I say comfortingly to Nick.  He keeps his eyes lowered
, his tanned face showing tinges of pink on his cheeks.  “Lots of people are bad with directions.”

“Yeah, Nick,”
Mack adds with a little grin.  “You hear about five-year olds wandering away from home and getting lost all the time.”

“Thanks,
Mack,” Nick says dryly.  “So, what’s your big secret, huh?”

The smile wipes from
Mack’s face.  He looks down at his hands as if silently contemplating a difficult math problem, his huge shoulders rising and falling as he breathes in and out.  Finally, he looks up with a glare.  “This doesn’t leave this table, right?”

“I swear,” I say quickly, while Nick shakes his head in agreement.

“Alright.”  He gives us another warning look.  “IcrywhenI’mreallymad,” he says in a rush.

“Huh
?” Nick and I say in unison.

Mack
sighs.  He curls his huge hands into fists, and glares at us.  “I cry when I’m really mad,” he says through gritted teeth.

“You…cry?”

He transfers his glare to the table.  “I’ve always been like this.  When I get truly pissed, the tears start flowing.  I can’t turn them off.  It’s like damn water works.  I get so emotional, you know?  I can’t—I can’t stop it.”

I can’t stop staring at Big
Mack—the size of a mountain, an island unto himself.  I try to imagine tears dripping from his puppy dog eyes, a vulnerable look on his fiercely handsome features—and I just can’t do it.  It’s almost comical, but I don’t dare laugh.

It’s so cute, though!  Sweet.  It makes me want to cuddle him like a giant teddy bear.