He’d long since emptied his bowl, but the spoon was still in his hand. He set it down. “Thanks. I’ll mention it.”

  This was the first I’d heard reference to him having folks; he’d only mentioned his mom so far. Which made me wonder why he didn’t tell me and if he was being polite or what with that response.

  Mom stood to her feet. “Well, as exciting as all this is, we’d better get going.” I knew that was our cue, so standing up I searched the room for my purse. Carter had drifted toward the door.

  It was as we were leaving that I remembered the dream. Mom came out, then me, then Carter. And she sauntered toward the stairs. I hooked a hand through his arm.

  “Hey,” I said. “I dreamed about you last night.”

  He glanced down at me. “You did?”

  I nodded.

  Mom’s sandals were slapping on the metal steps. Poing-poing. Poing-poing.

  “Yep,” I continued. “And you were holding my hand and everything. Problem was, you were among the living dead.”

  And he lost it.

  ***

  Kissing Daphne by the end of the week would be easy if she kept it up because Carter couldn’t remember ever laughing this much. But his reason would have to be right, because despite his overwhelming desire to kiss her, maybe gratitude for relieving his boredom wasn’t what she wanted.

  No, Daphne needed something more affirming. Something that told her just how great she was, and to give her that, he’d have to lay a bit more of himself on the line. Not the most comfortable thing.

  In that, they were a lot alike.

  She said anything that popped in her head, giving the impression she was tough as nails, but she was actually very sensitive, hiding behind the jokes and the chatter what was actually a very tender heart, one he’d bet no one saw much of. She was simply too good at tucking it away.

  He was the opposite, inclined not to talk at all, but his feeling about it was the same. He didn’t want to get hurt. He’d learned early on that people were cruel. His dad taking off and his mom acquiring a new boyfriend fairly quickly were largely responsible for that.

  Yet what caused Daphne’s fear? Not her folks. They obviously loved her, and she loved them. So there had to be something else, some event or mindset that made her like she is, and that might give him the reason he needed to kiss her.

  Because the more he thought on it, the more he knew this week couldn’t end until he did.

  ***

  “Now, don’t peek until I come out.” I called through the dressing room doors.

  Carter answered, “Okay.”

  I rechecked my image in the mirror, adjusted the bathing suit top, and took a deep breath. Then I pushed through the double doors.

  He was sitting on a stool just outside the room, his elbows propped on his knees, his hands clasped.

  “Okay, you can look.”

  His eyes popped open, and he tilted his head. “Too yellow.”

  I had figured that, but I liked the top.

  “You look like a daffodil.”

  I giggled at this.

  “Next,” he said. He’d taken to doing that all morning.

  I reentered the dressing room, shed the yellow, and reached for the polka dots. I actually liked the polka dots, but wasn’t sure how old-fashioned they’d make me look. It took me a minute to tie, strap, and fasten myself in, then I, once again, double-checked before walking out.

  This time he whistled. “That one,” he said.

  “Really?”

  I looked past him for my mom, but she’d wandered off.

  “Hubba hubba,” he said, wriggling his eyebrows.

  Which made me giggle again. “I’ll bet you didn’t know you were so good at swimsuit shopping,” I said.

  He grinned. “For you, I am, because I get to look at your cute little naval and feet.”

  I covered my mouth to suppress my laughter. “Carter Pruitt, you are a tease.”

  “You bring it out in me.”

  My face was hot at that point, so I returned to the dressing room and donned my clothes. I came out, the swimsuit wadded up in my hand, and grabbed his arm. Dutifully, he followed me, wandering through the racks until I located my mom. She was looking at shoes in the aisle.

  “You done already?” she asked.

  I nodded and held up the suit. “This one.”

  “That’s nice,” she said. She set down the shoes held in her hand, and we crossed the store to the checkout.

  Checkout took about ten minutes, the clerk being rather chatty. Then, the bag over my arm, I walked out behind Mom and in front of Carter. Mom took a deep breath outside the store. “I’m hungry,” she said. “Let’s go to the food court.”

  That sounded like a good idea, so we trekked after her, entering the press of people lining up for everything from fresh baked pretzels, to pizza, to five brands of Chinese food.

  Mom took a twenty from her wallet and stuck it in my hand. “You kids pick what you like, and we’ll meet over there.” She waved to the right.

  With that, we separated. Carter and I went left, and she made her usual beeline for the chicken place.

  “What do you want?” I said. “You can have Tang’s Chinese, Sue Lin’s Chinese, or New Chinese.”

  He nodded to the right. “Burgers.”

  Burgers were such a guy thing, but okay, his choice. We ordered; I paid, and we turned to find Mom. She was still in line, so we snagged a nearby table. Nothing was said much for a good while. Mom showed up. She ate; we ate.

  Carter suggested he and I go to the music store. Mom said okay, and she’d sit where she was.

  It was inside the music store that things all fell apart. But such is the story of my life.

  ***

  “Who do you like?” Carter asked.

  “Maroon 5. Adam Levine is hot,” Daphne replied.

  He half laughed at her. She would say something like that.

  “And besides them?”

  “Owl City. You know that’s not a band? I get so tired of people saying ‘the band’ Owl City. What about you?” She fixed her eyes on him.

  “Beyonce.” He kept a straight face.

  She wrinkled her nose. “You are not serious.”

  He wasn’t, but her reaction was worth saying it.

  “Demi Lavato,” he added.

  She punched him in the arm. “Stop. I don’t believe you.”

  Rubbing his arm, he turned away. “Actually, I’m more of a Phillip Phillips fan.”

  She drifted to his side. “He’s okay. I liked him on the show. What do you think his mom was thinking naming him that?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Just think. I could’ve been Pruitt Pruitt.”

  This made her giggle. She’d been doing a lot of that all morning. “Blaine Pruitt.”

  He snorted. “Sounds snotty.”

  Her sudden squeal whipped his neck around. She was holding her left butt cheek and gazing toward a group on the far side.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  From her washed out expression, she was upset. “That guy grabbed my butt.”

  “Seriously?” He stood taller and eyed the guy in question. Goth type. Black pants with multiple zippers, shaggy hair dyed black, dog collar.

  “I’ll go speak to him.”

  She grabbed his arm. “No, don’t. He didn’t hurt me.”

  But at that moment, the guy in question turned around, and the smirk on his face said it all. He had, in fact, grabbed her, and that was wrong. “Stay here,” Carter said, pushing her behind him.

  He measured himself against his opponent. He was considerably taller and broader in the shoulders than Goth dude, but that didn’t mean this was any safer or easier. No telling what the guy had in his pockets.

  Carter crossed his arms over his chest. “I think you owe the girl an apology,” he said. This seemed like the thing to say.

  Goth dude rolled his eyes. “For what? I never did anything to her.”

  “She says you did, and I believe her.”

  Goth dude snorted. “She ain’t even cute. Why would I?”

  Not cute? He’d insult Daphne now? Carter jabbed his fingers into the guy’s chest. “Apologize or I’ll make you.”

  Their conversation had by now drawn considerable attention; several of Goth dude’s friends gathered around, and Daphne moved closer.

  “Carter, let’s just go,” she said, tugging at his arm.

  But just going would mean turning his back, and he didn’t trust this guy. He shrugged her off.

  “I think you’d better listen to your sister,” the guy said.

  Sister? Taken aback, Carter paused, then blurted the first thing to come into his head. “She’s not my sister,” he said. “She’s my girlfriend, and you should’ve thought before you touched her.” With that, he hauled his fist back and smacked the guy in the eye.

  Goth dude stumbled, falling against a CD tower that toppled to the ground with a crash. The store clerk yelled, “Security!” And Carter, taking Daphne by the hand, calmly walked out the door and into the mall.

  Daphne was wide-eyed and glanced constantly behind them, and he was determined not to show how stupid he thought his action was. But then she yanked him to a halt by a donut stand.

  “Girlfriend?” she asked.

  He stared into her eyes, which had crinkled at the corners. “Well, you’re not my sister, which is what he thought.”

  “Yes, but …” she said. “Are we … I mean, am I …”

  He interrupted her. “I thought by saying that he’d leave you alone.” This made sense to him, though it wasn’t concrete. It also sounded lame.

  “So that’s the only reason you said it?”

  He took her hand, folding their fingers together. He’d said it, but now had no idea what to do with it.

  A slightly overweight security guard appeared in the mall corridor. He turned into the music store. Nervous, Carter pulled Daphne forward. She fell against him for a moment, and they both paused to register the brief embrace. Carter found his voice first.

  “We’d better get out of here,” he said, “before I’m in a world of trouble.”

  ***

  It bugged me that he hadn’t answered. Bugged me so bad I couldn’t think of anything else. I wasn’t given any time to ask though because after a stop at the grocery store, we arrived at the hotel and went separate ways. Carter went to tell his mom and a guy staying with them, apparently her boyfriend, about dinner, and Mom roped me into fixing salad.

  Later, he showed up, but we were too surrounded by people. And what with eating, talking to people – his mom was actually very nice and so was her boyfriend, though Carter didn’t seem so fond – I was forced to wait. All. Night.

  The next day, he didn’t show up. Not breakfast. Not later. Come eleven o’clock, I gave up and went to find him. My thinking was two-fold. I’d had some time to cool off about the girlfriend thing, though I still wanted to know what he’d been thinking. I also wanted to swim. After all, this was our third day there, and I hadn’t yet. So I knocked on his door. He opened it, but he looked at me weird.

  “Daph,” he said.

  “I haven’t seen you,” I said.

  He tossed his head, jerking his chin and his eyes to the side.

  I looked past him. What was he motioning at? “What is it?” I asked, me being my usual dumb self.

  And a man appeared in the door – uniform, gun belt, radio, badge. Cop. I gulped. “This have to do with … with …”

  Carter nodded. “Said they have it on tape.”

  Oh, gees. My heart pounded. Now, he was in trouble because of me, and that upset me so badly I started to cry, which made the cop look at me strange.

  “This her?” the cop asked.

  I was sobbing so bad I didn’t hear Carter’s answer, but the cop then asked if could he ask me some questions. This sobered me up, and wiping my runny nose, I choked out what seemed like a logical question.

  “Do I need to get my parents?” I asked.

  He seemed confused by that. “If you like.”

  I weighed this, in the end, deciding not to get them because Mom would only be upset and I’d have to explain. I hated explaining. I shook my head. “No, that’s all right. But officer, he was only defending me.”

  The confusion on the cop’s face grew. “Defending you from what?”

  Carter looked bewildered now, but he was staring at the cop.

  “The guy who grabbed me,” I said.

  “A guy grabbed you?” the cop said. “This look like him?” He held up a picture, and it was Goth dude.

  I nodded. He made a note on the notepad he held.

  “What do you mean he ‘defended’ you?” he asked. “We’ve been after that guy for shoplifting for months, and your boyfriend here is a witness. I understand you were in the music store yesterday?”

  “Then you’re not arresting him?” I asked.

  The cop ran a finger over his forehead. “No, ma’am.”

  With my insides lifting and joy bubbling up, I gave a squeal and threw myself in Carter’s arms.

  CHAPTER 4

  Carter staggered in catching me, then lowered me to the floor. Then it hit me. I’d just wrapped myself around Carter Pruitt. Embarrassing. Especially since his mom was right there with her boyfriend. But she was smiling and Carter was laughing, so I shoved my hands in my pockets and tried to look nonchalant.

  This turned out easier than I thought because the cop said he needed to get things clear on what’d happened at the mall, and that dragged everyone’s attention away. He said the Goth kid who’d grabbed my butt had stolen quite a number of CDs in those baggy pants of his, and since several people said we were there previous to this, he wanted to know what we saw.

  Carter explained how the kid had touched me, and he’d gone over to ask him to apologize. The cop said he should’ve called for help, but he understood how that’d not been Carter’s first thought. Carter said, after he and the kid argued we left. He hadn’t actually seen the guy steal anything, but he guessed it was possible.

  I noticed Carter left out the part about punching the guy in the eye. Could be he didn’t want to get in trouble for that, though I figured if they had video footage of the kid stealing, the probably had video footage of that, too. But the cop didn’t mention it and instead, asked a few more questions about Goth dude. Then I guess he was satisfied because he thanked us and left.

  I was super happy to see him go, but a little nervous being inside their apartment. Carter seemed to understand. He took my hand and looking at his mom, said we were going outside. There, he stopped and leaned against the wall. He had an expression that said he needed to tell me something, and for once, I stood there and didn’t speak. Whatever he needed to say would be best on his terms.

  “Daph, I don’t want to hurt you,” he said. He was toying with my fingers, rubbing them against his. “And yesterday, what I said … not that I didn’t mean it, but maybe it’s too quick. I’m not sure if I’m looking for a girlfriend.”

  My gut was getting all twisty then. It seemed like he was breaking up with me, only we weren’t together, so there was nothing to break up. Still, I didn’t say anything. I wanted to be sure I wasn’t misunderstanding.

  But he didn’t offer me anything else, so I asked him a question. “What if we talk hypotheticals?”

  “Hypotheticals?” he asked.

  “Yeah, say we were at home – you at your house and me at mine. Say we’d had these few days together, too. You know, talking and such?”

  “Okay.”

  I licked my lips. My mouth was getting dry. “Would you ask me out then?”

  He tilted his head. “Yes.”

  “Okay, still speaking hypothetical then. You would ask me out, so that means you like me on some level.”

  The corners of his mouth tipped a bit. “I do like you on some level.”

  He was repeating me now, which was cute.

  “And thinking that you like me enough to ask me out and with people knowing you were asking. Nothing in the dark about it, right?”

  He nodded.

  “Wouldn’t we be starting somewhere on this date? I mean, we wouldn’t jump straight to kissing. Would we?”

  “No,” he said.

  “So think. What would we do? Not movies because that’s third or fourth date.”

  “Go out to eat?” he asked.

  I’d pushed our locked hands up against his chest, where I was leaning against him. He tightened his grip on my fingers. “Of course, but after, then what?”

  “Well, I guess we could do something. Bowling?”

  I pursed my lips. “You’d trust me bowling?”

  He laughed. “No, maybe not.”

  I smiled.

  “We could play putt-putt. That’s safer,” he said.

  “Knowing me, I’d break my ankle stepping in a hole.”

  “I’d prevent it.”

  I liked that idea, Carter preventing me from injuring myself. “So we’d go eat and play putt-putt, and then you’d take me home. I’d sit up in my bedroom afterward daydreaming about you, and you’d go home and think how you liked being with me. Then what?”

  “Then I’d call you,” he said, “because you’re so great to talk to.”

  I paused. “Really?”

  “Really. I like talking to you.”

  I was super close to him now. Our sweaty palms had stuck together.

  “I never thought people liked to talk to me,” I said. “Not counting my mom and dad. I always thought I tend to babble, and it annoys people.”

  “You babble,” he said. “But I enjoy it. I never know what you’ll say.”

  “I think I feel better about myself,” I replied.

  He chuckled. “You ought to because …” His voice trailed off.

  I shut up again.

  He pulled his hands free and placed them on the sides of my face. “Because you’re great. I’m not sure I’m looking for a girlfriend, but I think I might have found one anyway.”