Page 9 of Better Than the Movies
His dark eyes swept over my face, and he said, “Would you seriously care?”
“Knock it off, you little brats.” His mom gestured for us to follow her into the family room. “Sit on the couch, eat some cookies, and get over yourselves.”
She plopped a plate of chocolate chip cookies down on the coffee table, fetched a gallon of milk and two glasses, tossed me a towel, reminded Wes that he had to pick up his sister at six thirty, and then she left us alone.
The woman was a force.
“Ohh.”Kate & Leopoldwas playing on one of those retro TV channels that only old people watched, and I rubbed the towel over my hair as Meg Ryan’s character tried evading the charm of a very British Hugh Jackman. “I love this movie.”
“Of course you do.” He gave me a grin that made me uncomfortable, like he knew things about me that I didn’t know he knew, and he leaned down and grabbed a cookie. “So what do you want to talk to me about?”
My cheeks got warm, mainly because I was scared to death he was going to make fun of me—and tell Michael—when I told him what I wanted. I sat down on the sofa, set the towel beside me, and said, “Okay. Here’s the thing. I kind of need your help.”
He started smiling immediately. I held up a hand and said, “Nope. Listen. I know you’re not one to help out of the goodness of your heart, so I’ve got a proposition for you.”
“Ouch. Like I’m some kind of a mercenary or something. That hurts.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
He conceded with a shrug. “No, it really doesn’t.”
“Okay.” It took a lot of self-control not to roll my eyes at him. “But before I tell youwhatI want you to help with, I want to go over the terms of the deal.”
He crossed his arms—when had his chest gotten so wide?—and tilted his head. “Go on.”
“Okay.” I took a deep breath and tucked my hair behind my ears. “First of all, you have to swear to secrecy. If you tellanyoneabout our deal, it is void and you don’t get payment. Second, if you agree to the deal, you have to actually help me. You can’t just do a little and then blow me off.”
I paused, and he looked at me through narrowed eyes. “Well? What’s the payment?”
“The payment will be uncontested, twenty-four/seven access to the parking spot for the duration of our deal.”
“Whoa.” He walked over and plopped down in the chair across from me. “You will give me THE parking spot?”
Isodidn’t want to, but I also knew how badly Wes wanted it. He and his dad were always tinkering with his old car, mostly because it never started, and their toolboxes looked wildly heavy whenever I got The Spot and they had to haul them all the way down to the end of the street to get it going. “That’s correct.”
His smile went big. “I’m in. I’m doing it. I’m your guy.”
“You can’t say that yet—you don’t even know what the deal is.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“What if I want you to run naked through the commons during lunch?”
“Done.”
I grabbed the throw that was folded over the arm of the couch and wrapped it around my shoulders. “What if I want you to turn naked cartwheels through the commons during lunch while singing the entireHamiltonsoundtrack?”
“You got it. I love ‘My Shot.’?”
“Seriously?” That made me smile, even though I wasn’t used to smiling at Wes. “But can you even do a cartwheel?”
“Yup.”
“Prove it.”
“You’re so high maintenance.” Wes stood, shoved the coffee table out of the way with his foot, and did the most awful cartwheel I’d ever seen. His legs were bent and didn’t turn over his head at all, but he stuck the landing with over-the-head gymnastics arms and a confident smile before plopping back into his chair. “Now tell me.”
I coughed out the laugh I was trying to hold in and searched his face. I was looking for honesty, some kind of hint that I could trust him, but I got sidetracked by how dark his eyes were and the way he flexed his jaw. I thought of the time in seventh grade when he’d given me six dollars to get me to stop crying.
