Just Like Fate (ARC) by Patrick Cat & Young Suzanne

Author:Patrick, Cat & Young, Suzanne [Patrick, Cat & Young, Suzanne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General Fiction
ISBN: 9781442472730
Publisher: Simon Pulse
Published: 2013-01-01T07:00:00+00:00

S TAY

Climbing the steps to Joel’s front porch, I’m approaching basket case status. At only seven, it’s already midnight black—thanks, winter—which adds to my jumpiness.But mostly,it’s my thoughts that are poking and provoking me. Joel wants to draw me. He likes to make out. And his parents will be gone all night long.

I twist the bracelet on my wrist, hearing Gram tell me to take a belly breath to calm down. I put my right hand on my stomach and inhale, then quickly rip my hand away when the front door opens. Joel’s half smiling in a black T-shirt and jeans, sock footed and scruffy. He pretty much looks exactly how I picture him in daydreams.

“Ready to be immortalized?” he asks.

“As long as you’re not planning to bite my neck.” He looks at me funny as he shifts in the doorway. Then, “I

can’t promise anything.”

••• As it turns out, posing for a sketch is incredibly boring. “Stop moving,” Joel says seriously without looking at my

face—he’s focused on my hands. I’m sitting on the floor, arms

wrapped around my knees, regretting picking this particular

position. My butt hurts and my face itches and I’m getting

thirsty.

“How about that break?” I ask, trying to shift without him

noticing. I imagine myself scratching my cheek—it makes the

itch fade a little.

“In a minute,” he says, “promise. I just need to get your

fingers right.” That’s what he said a half an hour ago about my

wrists.

When a break finally comes at nine o’clock, I stand up,

creaky, and follow Joel to the kitchen. He offers me a beer, but I

reach around him into the fridge and grab a soda instead. Then

I wander, looking at the hanging décor and knickknacks. The

design is rustic country, and the whole house smells like Joel. “Want to go up to my room?” he asks, and I can tell from

his face that he’s really asking if I want to go roll around in

his bed with him. I’m sure that he and Lauren had buckets of

sex—maybe that’s why his version of getting acquainted tends

to skew dirty. Truthfully, the fact that his parents are gone all

night terrifies me: There’s no school bell to ring and tell us to

stop.

That would be my job.

“How about we just watch some TV,” I say. “I can’t stay

that much longer—I have to be home at ten.”

“You have to be home at ten on a Friday night?” he asks,

walking over to the couch and dropping onto it, then sighing

and running his hand through his short hair.

“Not usually,” I say. “But with everything that’s going

on with my family . . .” I feel guilty for lying—Mom wouldn’t

care if I stayed out until midnight—and for using Gram as an

excuse to leave.

I join Joel on the couch. He flips on the TV and changes

channels a few dozen times; finally he stops on a movie I don’t

recognize. He grabs my hand and kisses my palm gently. “You think this night was lame, don’t you?”

“No,” I say automatically, then, “well, maybe a little.” “Sorry,” he says, kissing the inside of my wrist and making

my whole arm tingle.

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