23
A hug, Jesse realized much later, would have been equally effective and far less complicated.
The kiss was supposed to be simple, nothing more than a prop in a very straightforward ruse designed to infuriate any run-of-the-mill, irrationally possessive stalker. But, for a reason he could not fathom, Clara had thrown herself much too hard into her role, and in doing so had distracted him badly. Grievously, in fact. And it was only after several seconds of complete, heart-stopping, mindless idiocy that he had managed to rip his mouth away from hers. He recalled staring down at the beautiful, sweetly passionate woman in his arms, probably with his mouth hanging open, and trying without success to reconcile her with little Clara Wilder—little, highly annoying Pretty Princess Clara Wilder.
And that was when DeWitt Petty had slammed into him with the momentum of a freight train.
“Find my tooth,” he had later commissioned his fuming Valentine, while medical professionals bent over him. “I need it—it’s a molar.”
What did she have to be so mad about, anyway?
“You’re not gonna believe this, but you’re not the first concussion we’ve seen tonight who also fell into the creek,” the paramedic had said.
Now they were at Yoli’s.
Yoli wasn’t back yet from the high school dance. His molar was back in his mouth, tenuously attached to the teeth on either side of it, he had an ice pack on his shoulder and a heating pad on his rib, and he was eating a chocolate shake with a spoon.
Clara had not said a word when he’d asked her to go through the drive-thru. She’d done it, though.
She was currently texting a mile a minute—probably her emotional-support cousin, Birdie—and sending him occasional dark glances to make sure he knew that they were definitely talking about him this time.
All things considered, he should be in a pretty bad mood right about now.
“You know what? I feel great,” he said aloud, breaking the silence.
“You’re high,” she informed him.
“Oh, that makes sense,” he said, glad that there was a reasonable explanation. “I’m pretty sure I should be really mad at you. You picked the worst time to distract me.”
“ You should be mad at me? ” she choked. “What the heck did I do? I distrac—This whole thing was orchestrated by you! Against my express wishes!”
“Is that why you’re mad?” he asked lazily. “Because I didn’t listen to you?”
“No, that’s not why I’m mad! And it’s not because I had to crawl around in the dirt for thirty minutes looking for your bloody molar, either. And by the way, you’re drooling!”
He frowned—or tried to—and wiped his face with a napkin. “You know they numbed my mouth. You don’t have to be mean about it.”
She went back to her rage-texting.
“Is this still the best date you’ve been on?” he ventured after a while.
It was just like people said: she was beautiful when she was mad. He’d never understood that expression until this moment. He watched admiringly as she focused on him again with an absolutely killer look in her eye.
She was forestalled by the sound of a lock in the front door.
Yoli burst in. “Is it true? DeWitt Petty got arrested for attacking Dr. Flores?”
“Oh, it’s true,” Clara said.
“Hi, Yoli,” Jesse greeted her. “Wow, great dress.”
She looked thrilled. “He’s on pain meds?”
“Big time,” Clara said.
“Fun! How bad is he hurt?”
“Not bad enough, if you ask me.”
He should have been insulted, but for some reason he was vastly amused. She was just so indignant.
“He’s laughing,” Yoli observed, looking at him like she’d never seen him before.
“Well, he’s proud of himself,” Clara snapped. “He’s thrilled with the way his little plan went.”
“Why aren’t you?” Yoli asked her.
“Because he decided on his own to kiss me in front of DeWitt Petty to start a fight. And he did it with hundreds of people watching, people who know me. But he gets to leave town in a few days, so what does he care about that?”
“Hey, I barely touched you,” he said, pretty sure from the look on her face that he was drooling again. He wiped his mouth gingerly. “We’re talking a peck on the lips. If you hadn’t—” He stopped talking, a bit mesmerized by her eyes—why were they open so wide? “Well, anyway, it worked. And he’s in jail, so we’re good, right?”
“If I hadn’t what?” she demanded.
“If she hadn’t what?” Yoli echoed. “What’d you do, Clara?”
“He said I distracted him. How did I distract you?”
He couldn’t bring himself to accuse her of kissing him back; it was too ungentlemanly. “Can I have more of those pain meds yet?”
“Have the whole bottle,” she invited, throwing it at him.
He caught it—no, it bounced off his chest. His reflexes had never been so slow. For that matter, he’d never had trouble opening a child-proof lid before.
“Yoli,” he said at last. “Would you—”
“Why don’t I take those?” Yoli suggested, easing it out of his hand. “You just work on that chocolate shake. Clara? A word in the kitchen.”
“You’re good people, Yoli,” he called after her.