Page 59 of I Knew You Were Trouble

“She’s a sticker fanatic.” She started collecting when the grocery store down the street would hand them out at the register. Every time I had to do a milk run, I’d get one for her. Mom isn’t too thrilled with the obsession—every sticker has found itself on Dem’s wall and bed frame. Hey, it gives it character.

“Honestly, I thought for a second you were secretly making me tackle another fear tonight.”

My curiosity piques. “You don’t say. Which one?”

She nibbles the inside of that lip, and it drives my nervous system haywire.

“I thought you were going to ambush me with a party,” she mumbles into her flannel pajamas. The corner of my mouth picks up, and I lift my leg, resting my elbow on my knee.

“Level… blue?”

“Green.”

“Oh, so not so bad.”

“Pete…”

“Why don’t you throw one?”

“I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.” She plunges into the box with more gusto this time, grabbing the second to last gift—a pack of animal shaped earrings for Dem.

“It’s perfect timing.” I adjust again on the floor, my butt slowly inching toward her as the presents dwindle. “New Year’s Eve and all.”

“Yeah, and who would I invite?” She cocks her head like she’s got me, but that answer seems pretty damn obvious.

“Uh… your coworkers. Your art class. You know, the people you interact with.”

“And people would come?”

“It’s a party. In your massive house.”

“It’s just a guest house—” Her lips snap shut with the look I give her. We both know damn well that guest house can fit my apartment times five. “Okay… so I invite Troublemakers people.”

“And your art class.”

She suddenly sits straight up, her spine like a yard stick. “Zach.”

And with one word, my butt stops making its way across the room. Right… the guy she’s after. The guy I’m helping her get. How did I space him completely? I’m such a dumbass.

I clear my throat and scoot against my bed, pretending that was my intended destination all along. “Yeah. Could be good, you know. Midnight kiss.”

“A what?”

“Come on.” I roll my head toward her, crossing my arms. “You know what the New Year’s kiss is.”

“Yeah, but… do you think he’d want to kiss me?”

I don’t see why any guy wouldn’t want to kiss her, and my eyes drop to her lips and I imagine them underneath the lights at her guest house, confetti popping around her, her tongue running over the pink skin in anticipation for when the clock hits midnight.

“Sure.” The one word answer is so lackluster that I bet she doesn’t believe me.

She pushes the last gift next to the rest, the pile as organized as she is. I watch as she puts all the wrapping away, gathering up any extra pieces and setting them inside the box I kept the presents. Even though I sprayed half a can of air freshener in here earlier, the scent of her candied apple perfume hits me like a wave as she scoots up next to me.

Her eyes drop to my arm, and she reaches for my wrist. Her touch sends a flame up my arm, setting fire to my skin, like when kernels finally pop in the popcorn machine. Shit, I don’t think I’m breathing.

“Is there meaning to any of these?” she asks, boldly tracing the tattoos covering my forearm.

“Other than they’re cool and I like them?” I tease. My voice is kinda wobbly though. I’ve offered way too much about myself already tonight, and I’m worried more is about to come bursting out.

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