Pretty Girl Thirteen. Liz Coley
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Greg gaped and gulped like an air-drowning fish. “You … but … holy crap.”
His arms joined the group hug, long enough to wrap them both. “Un-freakin-believable.”
Angie leaned against him, immersed in his warmth. Wow, he’d grown. His heart was racing right under her ear—almost as fast as hers. As a thirteen-year-old mini-stud, he’d been hot, no doubt. As a sixteen-year-old dark-eyed hunk, he was scorching.
His hand rested on her waist now, but she didn’t mind. Not at all. His eyes took all of her in. “We thought you were for sure dead. Everyone thought so. You vanished!”
“Well. I’m back.” Angie found it hard to catch her breath, impossible to explain.
“I … we all lit candles for you.” His forehead creased.
“It was so beautiful,” Livvie said. “You would have loved it. I mean, if you could’ve been there.”
Greg broke up in hoots of laughter. “If she’d been there? Liv, think about it.” He shook his head, smiled wide, and wagged his finger at Angie. “You know, you stood me up for homecoming, which I knew you would never, never do unless you were really dead. I believe you owe me an apology.” He moved his finger to lift her chin. “Care to apologize and explain?”
A happy giggle escaped her lips. “I’m sorry. And yes, I’ll explain as much as I can.” She noticed a couple of heads turned their way, studying her with curiosity. They began to move—her gravity field was drawing them in again. “Not here. Somewhere private.”
“Chah,” Liv agreed. “Greg’s house. It’s walking distance from here. We can be private and you can tell all!”
Greg put an arm around each of their shoulders. Angie’s heart raced through the roof. It was like no time had passed for them either. All still friends. And the way Greg’s fingers casually twisted through her hair, maybe he still felt the way she did. A low, laughing voice in her head said, Don’t worry, honey. We know how to find out, don’t we?
She snorted in surprise.
“What?” Greg asked. “Share the joke.”
“Sorry, a fly flew up my nose,” she lied. “Hey, where’s Katie? What’s up with her?”
Liv’s answer was completely unexpected. “Kate? Yuck. We don’t hang with her anymore. She’s, like, so immature, such a prude. We were having this bonfire last fall, and Kurt’s older brother got us a keg and she told.”
“Told who?”
“Her parents, the cops, the school. It was grievous. Kurt got three days’ suspension since he was hosting.”
An immediate sense of panic flooded her. “What? You can’t tell on your friends! That’s so completely wrong. She’ll burn in hell.” Angie was startled by the urgency and fear in her own voice. Hell? She didn’t even believe in Hell. Where had that come from?
Greg laughed. “Well, she got burned, all right. No one talks to her anymore. She’s lower than the outcasts.”
A fate worse than death in high school. Poor Kate, Angie thought. But she did it to herself. Telling. Didn’t she realize?
The sky hung overcast above them, and the breeze picked up—not a hot Santa Ana wind, but a preview of cooler weather. Angie shivered in her thin brown sweater—she hadn’t thought to buy a new jacket during her shopping spree. Greg pulled her closer under his arm, which totally made it worth freezing all the way to his house. He kept turning his head to look at her. She could feel his glance on her cheek, which was most certainly blushing.
Greg unlocked the front door and sent the girls into the kitchen. “Grab whatever you want to eat,” he said. “I have to make sure the coast is clear.” He disappeared.
“He’s shoving his dirty clothes under the bed,” Livvie explained. “He’s a total slob at home.” She stuck her head in the fridge and held out a can. “Want a Diet Coke?”
Angie accepted. “Thanks. It is so great to be with you guys again. You have no idea what kind of day I’ve had. Mobbed, flocked all day. Totally crazy.”
“I hear ya. Want some rum in it?” Liv asked. “I know where they keep it.” She grabbed two more cans and closed the door with her knee.
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