Thursday, May 1, 2008


Brandi pulled up to my curb and I took a deep breath. Okay. Porch light was on. But my father wasn’t on the porch waiting. It was entirely possible that he went to bed.

No. He was waiting. I could feel his anger from here.

“Well, good luck,” Brandi said. It sounded like I was heading off to a firing squad. I nodded and climbed out. “By the way,” she called after me. “Becker is totally into you.”

My stomach fluttered. “I know. Too bad I’ll probably be grounded until I’m thirty five.”

Brandi laughed. “That would suck.”


We waited a moment and then she rolled up the window and pulled away. Slowly, I ascended my porch stairs. I tried to relax myself, not look so guilty. I mean, sure. I lied. I stole a little. But things could be so much worse. I could be--


I jumped and spun around. Conner was on my bottom stair looking up at me. My heart began to race.

“What are you--”

“Are you dating him?” he interrupted.

“Who? Wait. Becker? No. I’m not dating anyone.” It sort of bothered me to say that because it was only last weekend that I thought Conner was my date. But he hadn’t been. He’d been my lip-locking mistake.

He exhaled and smiled, making his way up toward me. I backed away, almost to my door. He looked hot. Too hot to be alone with me on my porch. My willpower wasn’t THAT good.

“I’m glad,” he whispered, reaching out to slide his arms around my waist. I widened my eyes, surprised, confused, freaking turned on. And I didn’t pull away. Shit. I totally should.


“Because I don’t want you to date other guys,” he said, leaning his mouth close to mine.

Seriously, Stella. Pull the hell away!

“I want you to date me,” he breathed as his mouth pressed against mine. I didn’t react at first, then I felt his tongue and I just about fainted. Why was I so weak? Why was--

“What the hell?” my father’s voice boomed. Conner and I jumped apart.

Then before I could even utter, ‘This was a huge mistake, Conner,’ my father took me by the elbow and yanked me into the house, slamming the door behind me. I stared up at him as his slippered foot tapped on the wood floor.

“Well?” he demanded.

“Uh….” This should be good.

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