Page 45 of Stuck-Up Big Shot
I chastise myself for losing control and sit back to catch my breath. We sit in protracted silence, breaths returning to normal, the air still electric between us.
Sutton’s cheekbones tint a rosy, flushed pink as she extracts a small compact mirror and begins adjusting her appearance as I watch the process, clenching my hands in my lap.
“I’m usually more patient than this when I date a guy.” She peers at me through her lashes, a humorous glint in her eyes. “But with you, Miles, it’s different. I’ve already been waiting for years, so I’ve decided I’m not sticking to my three-date rule.”
A spike of jealousy hits me square in the chest to think of her dating and sleeping with other men, but my scowl quickly transforms when I realize what she’s implying.
I quirk an eyebrow upward. “Three-date rule, huh? Why’s that?”
Leaning in again, I nuzzle at her neck gently, where I’d just been rough moments before, skimming lingering wet kisses anywhere I can taste her sweet, fragrant skin. Goosebumps form over the exposed area, and it ratchets up my desire to see where that trail of shivers leads.
Sutton replaces the compact in her purse, carefully laying it back on her lap, setting her hands on top of it in a demure posture before turning toward me.
And with earnest sincerity that I recognize is signature Sutton, she says, “I’ve wanted to be with you since I was thirteen, Miles. I think I’ve waited long enough.”
25
The Past—Sutton
Turningthirteen during the summer is both a blessing and a curse.
Once summer begins and school is out, it’s hard to have birthday parties with your friends and classmates when everyone leaves town on family trips to the beaches or attends summer camps.
This year is no exception, and because my dad has to work today, my mom takes me and Melodie, and our other friend Sophia, to the ice cream shop on Main Street. I’ve never liked the texture of cake, but love ice cream of any flavor, so we decide to all go load up on the sundaes topped with sweets and candy, whipped cream topping and cherries. Afterward, we’ll return to my house to open presents and then go to the community pool.
This year, however, has given me an unexpected gift that money could never buy. As the three of us skip arm-and-arm into the shop, giggling because we can’t all fit through the doorway at the same time, we unlink our arms to enter. Upon entering, I overhear a group of boys in the back corner of the shop and turn to look. Their boisterous laughter echoes across the parlor.
My eyes scan the area to find where the commotion is coming from, and I see Miles hanging out in a booth with a couple of his pals and a girl who is nestled tightly against him, with his arm slung around her shoulder.
“Oh God, I can’t go anywhere without him showing up with his stupid friends,” Mel bellyaches over finding her brother here. “He never lets me have any fun when he’s around.”
We all grab a booth, and my mom heads to the counter to place our orders. I try to look inconspicuous and guardedly watch out of the corner of my eye to see what Miles is doing. Today he’s dressed in a faded Zumiez T-shirt, cargo shorts and flip-flops, his dark inky hair a tousled mess that looks ridiculously like Zac Efron fromHigh School Musical. And while Mel and Sophia chatter about a boy they met at the mall last night, I can’t keep my eyes off Miles.
His easy smile is thrown haphazardly around the table, and all I want more than anything is to be that girl with him right now. The girl nuzzling up to him, basking in his beautiful pretty-boy smile, his arm looped around me, the stories he shares just for me.
And then it happens. I’m so lost in what Miles is doing that the entire building could burn down around me, and I wouldn’t take notice. All my attention is on Miles as he pops the girl’s sundae cherry into his mouth, pinches his lips together, his lips screwing up tight and moving from side to side until finally he victoriously pulls his masterpiece from his mouth.
I’ve heard of kids tying knots with cherry stems before. I always thought it was a weird party trick. But witnessing it happen with my own two eyes, as Miles performs it with a sensuality that I never knew existed, it does something spectacularly strange to my body.
There are tingles and fluttering butterflies taking flight in my belly. In fact, I feel kind of sick to my stomach. But not from the flu, or how you feel after gorging on ice cream, but something else. Something brought on by an emotion I’ve never felt before.
My mouth goes dry, and I swear I have a fever because my temperature skyrockets in a matter of seconds. I cover my cheeks with my hands, and sure enough, they are flushed hot.
“Earth to Sutton! Are you okay?”
Mel waves a hand in front of my blank face, looking concerned over my state of appearance. And then my mom returns with a tray of sundaes and a candle on top of mine.
“Okay, girls, let’s all sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to our birthday girl.”
I’m still in a fascinated trance by what I just witnessed Miles do, but return my attention back to my friends, as they sing a very loud, and very offkey, rendition of the celebratory song.
“Make a wish, Sutton,” my mom encourages, nodding at the lit candle that flickers with possibilities of wishes coming true. “Go on and blow it out.”
I suck in a deep inhale, closing my eyes to gather my thoughts and rally my wish from the recesses of my mind.
There’s no need for me to think too hard on what the wish will be because I already know what I want. And when my eyes pop open again, Miles pins me with his gaze from across the room, his lips curling up into a smile so warm I feel it in my soul.
Just as I’m just about to exhale, Miles stands, leaving his group and begins moving with long, confident strides toward my table.
