Page 43 of Royal Desire

“Hollis can’t be fun—not as fun as me. Do you really want to waste your eighth-grade Sadie Hawkins experience on someone who only talks about the Pythagorean theorem or photosynthesis? Why do that to yourself, Ruby? You’re only in the eighth grade once. I doubt he can even dance.”

“Hollis talks about other things too. And he might be able to dance ... we don’t know that.”

“Look at him, Rubes. He’s only in the drama club to work on sets. He’s not even an extra. I mean, maybe he could pull off being a tree or something, but that’s a stretch.”

She contemplates the facts I lay before her.

“He tripped over his own feet walking into honors history class last week. I’m afraid for you if you try to dance with him. If anything, this is me looking out for you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

I feel her rolling her eyes without even looking. But she doesn’t argue, so I might be getting somewhere.

“What do you suggest I do then, Mister Smarty Pants?”

I stop, grab her hand, and pull her behind a shrub that’s so big, it might be older than us. Ruby and I are so comfortable around each other, she doesn’t blink at me holding her hand, so I drop our bags and my helmet and don’t let go. “Ask me.”

Her brows shoot up. “You want me to ask you to the dance?”

My heart beats double time under my smelly football pads. “Yes. Ask me.”

“Why? So you can pull my hair, tell me no, and then laugh at me?”

I shake my head. “That’s not fair. I haven’t pulled your hair for at least three years—maybe four. And I promise, I will not laugh at you.”

She licks her lips and swallows hard. “I don’t believe you.”

I’m desperate enough to beg. “Try me.”

“Why?” Her tone drops to almost a whisper, even though there’s no one around and we’re hidden behind a wall of shrubs.

I pull her closer to me. We’re almost touching toe to toe, chest to chest, her boobs to my football pads. “Because if you take anyone else but me to that dance, I’ll go crazy.”

I feel her nervous breath exhale against my chin. I’m taller than her by at least six inches. She’s always been smaller, but I’ve put on height in the last year.

She finally gives in. “Okay. But on one condition.”

“Name it.” She knows I’ll do anything for her. I’ve proven it in the past over and over. I even got suspended two years ago for punching Adam Foster out cold when he made fun of her when she got her period on the school bus before she realized what happened.

“You have to try out for the spring musical with me. And you can’t make a mockery of yourself. You have to really try.”

“Done.” I’ll never live that down. But when a guy is desperate, he’s apparently willing to sing and dance and be a try-hard while doing it.

A smile touches every beautiful feature of her face. “Payne Deacon, will you go to the dance with me?”

I struggle to breathe, but I force myself to inhale so I don’t pass out and crush her to death. Then I do what I’ve wanted to do for the last fourteen months but didn’t have the balls to try.

I lean down and put my lips on hers.

I’ve never kissed anyone but neither has she. It’s the only thing that’s keeping me sane.

Her blue eyes are huge, staring up at me, but I power through. I’m no idiot. I researched how to kiss a girl. I put my hands on her cheeks, hold her to me, and hope it doesn’t suck for her.

She doesn’t kick me in the shin or push me away. She clenches my dirty practice jersey in her fingers and lifts up on her toes.

I moan.

I didn’t learn that on the internet. It just happened. I hope it isn’t weird, but I can’t help it. I’m finally kissing my best friend who’s about to be upgraded.

When a car drives by and honks, we both pull away, but I don’t let go of her face. We’re both breathing hard. Not going with the tongue was a game-time decision. I haven’t brushed my teeth since this morning.