Paula Stokes - The Art of Lainey

I slink down in my seat, even though the parking lot is still deserted. “I thought we were going to get pounded into a pulp! Those guys meant business.”

“Who the hell was calling you this early?”

“My mom, of course. We Mitchells have impeccable timing.”

“Is she going to be pissed that you didn’t answer?” he asks.

“Probably, but who cares? I saw Caleb freaking Waters. How cool is that?” I scroll through the photos on my phone. “And I’ve got pictures! Bianca is going to die when she sees these.”

“You two have issues,” Micah teases. “But I’m glad you enjoyed it since I almost had a heart attack.”

Smiling, I shush him just long enough to listen to my mom’s voice mail message.

“Lainey. Hi, I know you said you were at Kendall’s, and you probably just fell back to sleep, but I did a reading for you with my breakfast tea and the leaves indicated you might be in some kind of danger. I know you’re not a believer like me, but I just had to call once more and check on you. Please humor your mom and call me back when you get this.”

I quickly call her back.

“Lainey!” My mom sounds out of breath when she answers. “I’m so glad you’re all right. Are you still at Kendall’s?”

“Uh, I actually went by Denali and ran into Micah so we’re just talking right now.” I feel a twinge of guilt, even though technically everything I said was true. “I’ll be home soon.”

“Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“Promise. Love you.” I turn to Micah as I slide my phone back into my purse. “You will not believe this,” I say. “You know how my mom reads tea leaves? She just did a reading for me and it indicated I was in danger.”

His jaw drops a little. “That is creepy.” He slides the key into the ignition and turns the Lainey playlist back on. It’s one of the Bottlegrate songs we heard at the concert. The frantic drumbeat perfectly matches my pounding heart.

“I know. That dude had you by your jeans . . .” My mind starts replaying the whole adventure like I’m watching a movie. A really amazing movie, where the lead actor is neither tall nor tan, but is still an insanely hot hero guy. I turn toward Micah. “Thank you. I still can’t believe you did that for me. You could’ve gotten in so much trouble.”

He shrugs. “Hey, big risks, big rewards, you know?”

I can’t stop staring at how the rising sun back-lights his slender form, at how his mohawk casts a funny shadow on the dashboard. I reach out for him without thinking, running one finger across his pierced eyebrow and then the back of my hand along his jaw. “What sort of rewards were you hoping for?” I ask softly.

Micah reaches up and curls his hand around mine. “This is enough.” His voice catches. “Seeing you so excited.”

My whole body goes weak. “What if it’s not enough for me?” My other hand cups his chin, a hint of beard stubble prickling against my fingertips. I lean toward him, aligning my face with his. My chest caves with each breath.

His whole body is radiating heat. Even though I’ve been kissed hundreds of times by Jason, somehow this moment feels different, as if no one has ever touched me. I let my eyes flutter closed. I know exactly how far Micah is away from me. I know exactly how many seconds it will take for our lips to meet.

Our foreheads touch first. The song ends and a new one comes on. “Wake Up Dreaming”—the song Amber’s band was playing the night I first wanted this to happen.

Micah reaches out and turns the volume all the way down.

“Leave it on,” I say.

He turns it halfway back up. The violins meld with the guitar. My heart does a somersault in my chest.

“I have to tell you something.” His words mix with my breath.

“Yeah?” My eyes are still closed.

“I never got back together with Amber, okay? I thought about it, but I realized I was just thinking the same as you—like why fight the natural order of things?”

“Trinity told you about that little conversation, huh?” I slide my hand around to cradle the back of his neck. So close. The music starts to build.

“She’s my sister. She tells me all kinds of stuff.” His cheek grazes mine. Our noses brush. “And then I didn’t want to rush into a rebound thing.”

“Me neither.” The violins and guitars swell to a crescendo. Once again, every beat is punctuated with the image of Micah and me kissing.

“But then I realized I’m not rushing, if I’ve wanted this for weeks.”

My heart feels huge in my chest. “Me too,” I say. And then: “Shh.”

“Sorry, I just want to make sure I don’t mess this up.”

My eyes flick open for a second. I grip Micah’s neck and pretend to strangle him. “Just stop talking for five minutes, okay?” I let my eyelids fall shut again. Without waiting for an answer, I close the distance between us.

I can feel Micah smile as our lips finally meet. Soft. Warm. He squeezes my fingers gently. His other hand tangles itself in my hair. My whole body trembles. I exhale hard against his chin.

“Damn, girl,” he murmurs, tightening his hold on me. His tongue tastes my lips and then finds the inside of my mouth.

I press myself toward him, willing him to kiss me harder. And he does. The Beast’s gearshift threatens to poke a hole in my hip, but I don’t care. The car starts to fade away. The whole world goes hazy. Micah lifts me over the center console until I’m half in his lap. We stay locked together until we both run out of breath.

Then he kisses his way up my jawbone and flicks his tongue across my earlobe. “I hate to bring this up, but your mom’s not going to call the cops or anything if you don’t show up at home soon, is she?”

“Nah.” I wrap my arms around his neck and adjust myself so we’re both comfortable. “I figure I’ve got at least a couple hours before she starts worrying again.”

“Mmm.” He trails his lips down the other side of my neck. “I like the sound of that, as long as you’re sure you won’t get grounded.”

“Who cares?” I twine my fingers in his mohawk. “It’d totally be worth it.”

“You are the biggest rule-breaker ever.” Micah shakes his head and then pulls me close again. Our mouths move hot against each other as his hands explore my face and hair and back. I don’t know how long we kiss, but when we finally break apart, the music is over, the windows are white with fog and the soft drumbeats of a summer rainstorm pound the roof above our heads.

Sliding back into the passenger seat. I reach out with one finger and draw a happy face in the condensation on my window. I turn back to Micah, running a hand down the side of his face like I’m still not sure that he’s real. His eyes shine a mix of green and gold, like the forest. “Your eyes are so pretty,” I say.

“I know, right?” he says. “They’re my second-best feature.”

“What’s your best?” I ask without thinking.

He glances quickly down at his lap and then arches his eyebrows suggestively at me.

I laugh out loud. Typical guy. Just when I was thinking this might be the most romantic day of my entire life. Oh, well. Might as well play along. “Prove it,” I say. With a grin, I fake like I’m reaching toward the waistband of his jeans.

Micah slaps my hand away playfully. “I might show you. Someday.” He laughs, and it is the most beautiful sound in the whole world.

For a moment, we just stare at each other, both grinning like idiots. Both imagining a future filled with so many scary and exciting possibilities.

But first things first.

“So what now?” I ask.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what do we tell people? How do we tell people?”

“Ah.” He nods. “No ancient Chinese guidance for this sort of thing?”

“I’m done with all that. War is totally overrated.” I reach over and twine my fingers in his. “So is fighting with the people I care about.”

Micah squeezes my hand. “I agree.” “You know, we could always let Ebony discover us fooling around in the walk-in cooler. Let her tell people for us.”

I frown. “Come on. I’m being serious.”

“Me too.” He brushes my hair back from my face. “How about this? We’ve been pretending to date for most of the summer. So I say we just keep doing our thing and let people think what they think. If they ask specific questions, then you can say whatever you want.”

“But what are we doing?” I ask. “What do you want me to say?”

Micah laughs under his breath. “Oh, so you want me to be that guy, huh?”

“What guy?”

He takes both of my hands in his and turns to face me. “Lainey Mitchell,” he starts in an extra-serious voice. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

I make a noise vaguely approximating a dolphin. Taking a deep breath, I try again. “Yeah.”

“Yeah, you’ll be my girlfriend or, yeah, you want me to be that guy?” Micah teases.

I pull my right hand free of his and curl it into a fist. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

He grins. “I think I would like to propose a rule regarding physical violence.”

“No such luck. It’s too late for rules.” Reaching out with one finger, I trace the trinity tattoo on his neck.

Micah inhales deeply and his eyelids flutter closed for a second. Then he reaches over and pulls me toward him again. “I can’t even believe everything that’s happened,” he murmurs as his lips fall gently onto mine.

“I know, right?” I say between kisses. “Most epic summer ever.”

And the best part is, it’s not over yet.

This story would not be what it is without four writing partners that I have been waiting YEARS to lavish gratitude upon: Cathy Castelli, you never lost faith, you believed in me even when I didn’t believe in myself. Thank you for your thoughtful comments and unfailing optimism. Jasmine Warga, thank you for years of timely feedback, the MFA perspective, and for railing against the coconuts. You deserve everything wonderful that is headed your way. Jessica Fonseca, thank you for the torture breakfast food and for being a model of patience and determination. You have figured out how to write without losing yourself, and that will serve you well on your journey. Marcy Beller Paul, thank you for being a teacher, cheerleader, confidante, therapist, cab-hailer, and wonderful friend. You, chica, have kept me sane. I look forward to returning the favor, as needed.