Page 69 of How to Be Remy Cameron

“They’re so blue,” he continues. “I’ve never seen that on, like, a…”

“A black guy?” I say, because I can tell he’s struggling. It pisses me off when people act as if black isoffensive. That’s what I am. Say it.

“Yeah, a black guy.” His eyes continue to roam over me.

I don’t know how to respond to that. His hand is still on my spine; his deliberate fingers map out each knob. I’m sweaty and uncomfortable.

“You’re cute.”

“Thanks?”

He laughs, head tipped back, neck flushed. Three moles form a zigzag pattern against his skin. He catches me staring, then winks.

Now I’m blushing.

“I’m Liam, by the way.” He extends the hand that was once on my back. I shake it, but only briefly. Then I wipe the sweat from his palm on my jeans. That doesn’t seem to bother him.

“Remy.”

“Seriously? Dude!” His eyes are lit like his lopsided smile. “Remy as in Rembrandt? You mean like that rat fromRatatouille?”

I make a face. Major confession: I hated it when kids teased me about my name. No offense Pixar, but I don’t want to be compared to a rat. No one does, no matter how funny that movie was.

I sigh. “Something like that.”

“That’s adorable.” He’s back to leaning in my direction. “Like you.” He licks his lips, then his teeth catch the bottom one. “I’ve never been with a guy with eyes blue as yours. It’s hot. Like, a black guy as cute as you with blue eyes? That’d be nice.”

We’ve stopped moving. Well, I have. The heels of my shoes and the wings of my shoulders are against the wall. Liam is in my breathing space.

Soccer Ally of Dimi clears his throat rudely. “Get a room.”

Liam ignores him. His fingertips skim my hip.

“I’ve never even been with a black guy,” he whispers. “I’ve wanted to. And you’re so damn cute.”

I flinch. My fingers curl into a fist, but I don’t swing. I think about it over and over. But he’s taller, probably quicker. The last thing I need is Lieutenant Parker crashing Andrew’s party to arrest me, self-defense or not. The last thing I need is to be plastered across the news as the angry black kid who decked a more-than-deserving white male.

“Interested?”

“Nope.”

Liam frowns. “Why not?”

I shake my head. Every breath entering and exiting my lungs feels as if it’s made of fire. Frustrated tears prickle my eyes. This isn’t happening.

“I’m not—”

“Interested,” Brook finishes, appearing out of nowhere. His body fits between mine and Liam’s. He’s the same height as Liam but bigger, with square shoulders and tension running through his forearms. “Maybe you should leave it at that.”

Liam stumbles back, hands raised. He’d look like the perfect victim to anyone watching us now.

“We were just flirting.”

“Were you?” Brook’s jaw tightens.

Liam tries to look past Brook toward me. I shrink, struggling to steady my nervous breaths.

“It was nothing.” Liam shakes his head; his face is scrunched. “No biggie, bro.”

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