When she doesn’t say anything, I ask “Are you going to tell me what it means?”
“Noooo.” Her voice is soft, her lips curling with her amusement.
“Are you kidding me?” A medium-size child could probably fit their fist in my mouth right now, that’s how far it’s open.
“I’ll tell you. Someday. Just not now. But I promise, it’s not bad.”
This girl is crazy. Ember is joyful and funny, weird and incredible, challenging and unexpected.
“Now”—she turns, tossing the marker to the floor, where it lands with a soft thud—“I don’t know about you, but I didn’t cut class just to fulfill my dreams of being a tattoo artist.” The slightly upturned corners of her lips and her shimmering eyes make her look playful.
“No?” My body feels hot already, as if her words started a fire that was an inferno from the onset.
“Nope.”
I grab her shoulders and push her down, pinning her with mine. Her arms wrap around my neck, and she nips my earlobe.
“I’m ready,” she whispers.
I am too. More than I’ve ever been. To the point where I know any other experience before this is about to turn to vapor. Because Ember is magic.
She’s wearing a dress, and when I push it up I find that the tops of her thighs are freckled. When my finger traces the dots, it’s as if I’m connecting them. This time, when I touch her, she doesn’t stop me.
Kissing Ember, touching her smooth skin, listening to the soft sounds she makes, is like a collision of everything overwhelming at once. All I can think about is that one word I’ve been using to describe her since the moment I pulled her from that lake.
Magic.
What’s not magic is hearing my dad’s voice when I’m sliding a second finger into Ember. Sweet, innocent Ember, who has never done this before. She’s squirming beneath me and digging her fingers into my skin, probably leaving marks and giving my teammates a second reason to tease me.
Thank the flipping lord my dad knocked first. Ember’s limbs are frozen, her eyes fearful.
“It’s okay,” I mouth. I don’t know that for certain, but it seems like the right thing to say.
“Noah, the school called and said you left during third period and didn’t return.” Even through the wooden door I can hear his irritation. “You and Ember need to go back to school, and don’t do this again.”
How the hell did he know? Coughing, I call out “Okay, Dad.” His footsteps are loud as he walks away.
Ember reaches down and pushes my hand until it’s outside of her. Her red face combines with her copper hair and makes her look like the flame atop a torch.
“I have an idea,” I say quickly.
“Is it as good as the one to kiss outside third period?” She tries to narrow her eyes but the expression falls short. She’s still too worked up to look disapproving.
“Better.” I place a kiss on her forehead and tug on her dress. She lifts her hips and I pull it down and smooth it out. “I need you to get off work the third weekend in April. And you need to make a new friend and stay the night at her house that weekend.”
“But that’s—”
“Prom?”
She nods.
“Did you want to go?”
Her wrinkled nose is my answer.
“Don’t worry about that.”
By some stroke of luck, she doesn’t press the issue.
