As Dead As It Gets

“Um…yeah, thanks,” I said, and then without being asked, he busied himself getting everyone arranged and keeping them quiet while I set up.

Carter was the last one to sit. He planted himself on a bench in full sun—even though Zoe was hiding in the shade. She looked tempted to join him, fragile skin and all, but there were no seats left. So she pouted and stayed where she was.

“Come to order,” someone said. They started going through their agenda.

After a month of Elliot’s lightning-fast meetings, where wasting time was the equivalent of robbing an old lady in an alley, their petty back-and-forth bickering made my brain itch. In a yearbook meeting, if we had four minutes’ worth of stuff to cover, the whole thing lasted about four minutes and fifteen seconds. The Student Council kids seemed so entranced by the idea of holding a “meeting” that they could hardly focus on the business at hand.

On the plus side, it gave me plenty of time to take photos.

Afterward, the decorations subcommittee went inside—to wander aimlessly and argue, I imagined, based on their snippy discussions during the meeting—and the rest of the kids left, pairing up to gossip about ideas and people they disagreed with as soon as they were out of each other’s earshot.

Marley and I made plans to meet in the morning, and she took off.

Then I turned to leave—and saw the circle of folding chairs still sitting out in the grass.

I might have left them, except that the night’s forecast predicted rain, which would ruin the padded seats. One of Elliot’s pet topics to rant about was the way our school spent tons of money on the athletic department but almost nothing on maintaining the non-athletic facilities and equipment. She’d practically picketed the front office when I told her I’d tried to take a picture of the Literary Society but couldn’t find a sofa in the library that didn’t look like it had been gnawed on by a pack of wild dogs.

So I enclosed my camera in its case, slung it snugly across my body, and grabbed a chair to carry it back inside.

Then I went back out and picked up another chair.

This was going to take all day.

“Here,” said a voice. “Let me help.”

Next to me, Carter lifted a chair and walked toward the gym. After setting it down inside, he turned around and went back for another. He could have lapped me, but he went slowly, so we were walking together.

I set down my final chair and rubbed my hands on my jeans to get the feeling back in my stiff fingers. I raised my head to see Carter standing there watching me.

“Thanks for the help.”

He smiled. “No problem.”

Then he just kept…standing there.

“Carter,” I said. He gave a little jerk, like I’d sneaked up on him. “Can I help you?”

“Well, I don’t know.” He looked around the gym. “Could you build a time machine, go back to the day I volunteered to help plan this dance, and knock me unconscious?”

“Aw,” I said. “Not psyched for the shindig?”

His expression was so dismal that it was fu

Then we were both laughing, maybe a little harder than we should have been. But I think part of it was relief—this was the first time in months that we’d managed to break through the tension between us.

“Are you going?” he asked.

“To the dance? No, I don’t think so.” My nerves twanged like guitar strings. “Jared—I mean, my…boyfriend—he goes to a different school.”

Carter raised his eyebrows. “I see. One of those boyfriends.”

“What boyfriends?”

“You know, the kind nobody ever actually sees.” Carter smiled so his dimple showed. “I’ll bet he’s an international spy or something.”

For a moment, I didn’t know what to say. Carter had seen him at various parties, and we both knew it.

It was almost like he was talking to me, joking around, because…he wanted to.

“Yeah, totally,” I said. “And he lives in a mansion in Miami, and he’s best friends with Chuck Norris, and he’s a race car driver.”

“And a millionaire?”

“Actually, no,” I said. “A billionaire. But I swear he exists.”

“And I completely believe you,” Carter said.

“He’s a movie star, too,” I said. “And he’s…” Behind Carter, one of the gym doors opened, creating a blinding rectangle of light. A figure stood silhouetted inside of it. “Um…right over there.”

Carter looked surprised, then turned around and watched Jared come toward us.

Right before he came into hearing range, Carter turned to me. “Awk-ward,” he said in a singsong voice, and I laughed.

“Hey…what are you doing here?” I asked, when Jared got closer.

“Meeting you,” he said. “What’s the joke?”

“But you knew I had a shoot.”

“Yes, but…” He looked at his watch, then looked up at me, perplexed.

I kept hoping that Carter would slip away into the background, but he didn’t. He looked at Jared and asked, “We haven’t actually been introduced, have we?”

I gritted my teeth. “Jared,” I said, “Carter. Carter, Jared.”

They looked at each other for a breath longer than they needed to before extending their hands for a curt, manly shake and doing that mutual chin-raise boy-greeting.

“I’m just finishing up,” I said to Jared. “But—what do you mean, meeting me?”

“Nature preserve,” he said. “Like we texted about?”

I started to reach for my phone. “I thought we texted about not doing that today.”

“No,” Jared said, his jaw twitching. “You said you’d call me later, so I just thought I’d meet you here.”

“Yeah, but…” I glanced up at the narrow windows. The sun was on its way down. He must have known it would be too late to take pictures.

Not to mention that I’d pla

“Sorry. I thought it was clear that we had plans.” Jared shrugged, glancing in Carter’s direction. “But I guess you have more important things to do.”

He started to walk away.

I shot a flustered look at Carter and hurried to catch up with Jared.

“Wait,” I said. “I’m done here anyway. Let me get my stuff, all right?”

He gave me a chilly look. “Do what you have to do.”

I walked back to the bleachers, where I’d stashed my backpack.

Carter was already there, standing next to his own bag. He looked at me with narrowed eyes. “Does he always treat you that way?”

“No, Carter,” I said. “Usually he beats me with a two-by-four. Does Zoe always treat you like a stuffed animal?”

“That’s not fu

“I’m not joking,” I called over my shoulder.

Jared wrapped his arm around my waist when I reached him. “Don’t be mad,” I said.

“I’m not,” he said. “I thought I was, but it turns out I’m not.”

He pulled me close and kissed me—a long, serious kiss.

I pushed away, blushing and unsettled.

Because I knew he’d done it so Carter would see.

“Hungry?” Jared asked. “I can make di

We were stretched out on the couch watching cooking shows. I lifted my head off his chest and looked at him. The lines of his face were loose and relaxed.

“I guess,” I said. “I should call my mom, though. Are you sure you want to cook? You don’t have to.”

“I’m a very good chef,” he said. “Self-taught. I’m looking for a chance to show off, in case you can’t tell.”

“All right,” I said, getting up and walking around the room to stretch my legs. “Dazzle me.”

His arms were around me before I knew what was happening. He dipped me low, like a dancer or Scarlett O’Hara or something, and kissed me until I saw stars.

He was slender, but his arms were solid, lean muscle. He was strong.

Stronger than Carter, I thought.

He lifted me to my feet. I felt a little wobbly.

“I meant dazzle me with your cooking,” I said.

His fingers traced through my hair. “I don’t care what you meant,” he whispered. “Is that bad?”