Heart Smasher (Rebels of Rushmore #4)

1. VANESSA

A nudge on my arm startles me awake. I sit straighter and try to focus on what Father Medina is saying.

Try being the key word here. Maybe I shouldn’t have had a big lunch, but it’s hard to resist my grandmother’s feijoada .

Beans, rice, and meat will put anyone to sleep.

Pair that up with an unusually hot afternoon for California in March, and I’d need caffeine injected straight into my veins in order to stay awake.

My friends from school think I’m crazy for drinking coffee, and their parents think my folks are crazy for letting Heather and I drink it. It's a cultural thing.

Why is the church so stuffy today? Its stucco walls are supposed to keep the heat out. Unlike most Catholic churches, this one isn’t rich in decorations and frills—probably because the building is new.

I wipe my clammy forehead with the back of my hand and mutter, “Why is it so hot in here? Is Father Medina trying to turn us into stew?”

“Maybe only you. You shouldn’t have eaten like a pig earlier,” Heather retorts.

Jerk.

Someone snickers behind me, and I look over my shoulder to glower.

It’s Paris Andino, which means I can’t really hold on to my annoyance for more than a second.

I’ve known him for like forever. We always hang out at the Morales Country Club, and there’s church.

The boy is my kryptonite. How could he not be, with his tanned skin, dark hair, and the bluest pair of eyes I’ve ever seen, framed by ridiculously long lashes?

I don’t realize I’m staring at him like an idiot until Heather elbows me again, giving me a new direction for my glare. “ What ?” I shout-whisper.

“Can you at least pretend to pay attention to the sermon?”

“It’s not my fault Father Medina’s voice is so monotonous.” A yawn sneaks up on me.

“It is your fault for staying up late watching old soccer games,” she retorts.

“I’m not going to apologize for having an interest in a worthwhile activity. Unlike you.”

“You mean an obsession, right? Besides, I do plenty of worthwhile stuff.”

“Preening in front of the mirror doesn’t count, sis.” I smirk.

Paris chuckles again, and this time, Heather is the one who looks over her shoulder. “Can it, Andino.”

Father Medina clears his throat, scowling. At least, for once, his annoyance isn’t directed at me. Heather faces forward again and slouches. As the twin who never gets in trouble, she hates being scolded. Her face is now redder than a tomato.

The sermon continues for another fifteen minutes without any more interruptions, which is a miracle considering the audience is all teenagers who, like me, were probably strong-armed into going through confirmation.

I manage to stay awake, thanks to the knowledge that Paris is right behind me.

My tummy is filled with crazy butterflies.

We’re supposed to break into groups now and discuss the lesson given during the sermon, but I have to pee badly, so first I head to the secondary building where the restrooms are.

Mercifully, Heather doesn’t come with me.

No doubt she would take the opportunity to lay all the blame for what happened earlier on me.

I’m distracted when I walk out of the restroom, so when Paris’s voice echoes in the hallway, I jump back, startled.

I press a hand to my chest. “Geez, you almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He smiles, revealing his adorable dimples.

A blush creeps onto my cheeks while my heart speeds up like a midfielder who just snagged the ball from the opposing team and has a clear path to the goal.

Keep it cool, Vanessa. Keep it cool .

“Are you waiting for someone?”

“Yeah. You.”

My idiotic heart skips a beat. I croak, “Me? Why?”

“On a scale of one 1 to 10, how mad is Heather right now?”

Disappoint floods through me. Did Paris just corner me to ask about my sister?

I’m used to Heather getting all the attention from boys at school.

She’s blonde, beautiful, and has already developed all her assets, unlike me.

I seem destined to have an athletic frame, which usually works for me.

Right now, however, jealously is coursing through me.

I cross my arms and frown. “Why do you care?”

Paris’s smile wilts a fraction. “I don’t care. I mean, I thought maybe you needed a break from her, if she’s acting like a total dragon.”

My irritation dissipates like magic. I was already getting a break from her, but he doesn’t know that.

“What do you have in mind?” I ask.

His lips curl into a mischievous grin. “I can’t tell you. It’s top secret.”

“So… what? Am I supposed to just follow you blindly?”

“Yeah. I promise it’ll be cool.”

Little does he know I’d follow him even if he was planning to open the gates of Hell.

God. That was dramatic. I think Heather’s antics are rubbing off on me.

Waving my hand in a carefree way, I reply, “Fine. Lead the way.”

His grin widens into a broad smile that makes my heart skip a beat.

He doesn’t say anything else, just veers in the opposite direction of where the group meetings are taking place.

He has long legs, so I follow a bit behind him, which allows me to check him out.

Unlike other thirteen-year-olds, Paris isn’t scrawny.

That’s probably because of football. I’ve heard he’s already the most popular boy at All Saints, the private middle school he goes to.

We’re in the same grade, but Heather and I attend public school.

I’m lost in admiring his tush and don’t notice that he’s led me out of the secondary building and to the back of the church. Cory, his older brother, is standing near a sycamore tree, looking hella suspicious.

“Did you get it?” Paris asks.

“Mathias hasn’t come out yet.”

“Uh, get what?” I butt in.

No sooner do I ask than Cory’s friend walks out the back door, holding a bottle of red wine. Crap .

“You’re joking, right?” I blurt out.

“Aw, come on, Vanessa. Don’t tell me you’re Miss Goody Two Shoes like your sister,” Mathias pipes up.

“Please. I’m nothing like Heather.” I turn to Paris. “You said this was gonna be cool.”

His face falls, and I regret my words.

“You don’t need to drink any,” Mathias says before pulling the cork free with his teeth.

I’ve never tasted wine before, and I am a little curious. But the idea also makes me leery. The image of Aunt Marietta drunk at every family gathering has made me less keen to try alcohol.

Mathias takes a big chug of the wine and then passes the bottle to Cory, who follows his friend’s example.

I’m surprised to see him breaking the rules.

I always pegged him as the responsible older brother.

He drinks way more than Mathias, as if he wants to get wasted at any cost. When he finally lowers the bottle, I wonder if there’s anything left.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand but doesn’t make a motion to return the bottle to his friend.

“Did you leave any for us?” Paris takes the bottle from Cory.

“Yeah, yeah, little bro. Still plenty for you and your girlfriend.”

I gasp, and Paris replies quickly, “She’s not my girlfriend.”

My face is burning up, and I’m glad I don’t blush as obviously as Heather does.

“Yeah, that’d be gross,” I say.

Cory and Mathias laugh. I don’t dare glance at Paris to see his reaction, so I look at my shoes instead. After a moment, Paris nudges my arm, forcing me to turn to him.

“Want some?” He offers me the bottle.

I wasn’t planning to drink, but to recover from embarrassment, I accept the offer and bring the bottle’s rim to my lips.

The first sip almost makes me gag. I force it down, not wanting to increase my humiliation.

The second gulp is larger and, as the alcohol goes down my throat, I begin to relax.

I can’t possibly be getting drunk already, can I?

“Hey! What are you kids doing back there?” someone yells in the distance.

I pivot on the spot, hiding the bottle of wine behind my back.

“Shit! That’s one of the coordinators,” Mathias blurts out. “Scram.”

He and Cory take off toward the mid-size public park next to the church grounds. I’m frozen, not knowing what to do. If the coordinator catches me with the wine, I’m screwed. My parents will flay me alive.

Paris takes my hand and tugs it. “Come on. We have to get out of here.”

I let him steer me in the direction of the park.

We run side by side, and I’m glad that, thanks to soccer, I can keep up with him and his extremely long legs.

We lost Cory and Mathias already, but we don’t stop running until we reach the old tree house, deep in the forest. We don’t go up, as it might fall apart at any moment.

No one comes here save for teenagers looking for trouble.

Oh, that’s us.

“Jesus! That was close.” Paris drops my hand and then rests both of his on his knees as he catches his breath.

I’m not as winded as he is, and that fills my chest with pride. “At least we got the wine,” I say.

He grins. “Hand it over. I’m parched.”

I pass the bottle to him, but not before I take another sip. It doesn’t taste as bad now. For a few minutes, we keep taking turns until the bottle is empty.

“I’m still thirsty,” I say.

“Yeah, I don’t think alcohol really helps with that.”

“How long do you think we should stay hidden?” I glance at the sky, noticing it’s already turning orange.

“We have to get back before our parents come to pick us up.”

I shove my hands in my pockets. “Do you think the coordinator recognized us?”

His face twists into a grimace. “It’s possible.”

“Crap.” I look away, thinking what my punishment will be for ditching bible study and getting drunk. My stomach feels queasy with the possibility that my parents might take soccer away from me.

Paris touches my shoulder. “Don’t worry. If you get in trouble, I’ll take full responsibility.”

“That’s not fair. No one forced me to skip class and drink wine.”

He steps closer to me, making my breath hitch. “True, but I had ulterior motives for inviting you to tag along.”

“What ulterior motives?” I whisper.

“Uh, getting you alone.”

My brows shoot to the heavens. “You’re not planning to kill me, are you?”

“What? No.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m making a mess of things, and I don’t think it has anything to do with the wine.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“I like you, Vanessa.”

My jaws drop. Paris Andino likes me? Am I dreaming? Or maybe I’m having a drunken vision.

He steps toward me, his expression already falling. “I’m sorry. It was stupid of m—”

I jump into his space and throw my arms around his neck…

and then I kiss him on the lips. He tenses, but then his arms wrap around my waist. That’s as far as my drunken impulsiveness goes, though.

I’ve never kissed anyone in my life, and I have no idea what to do next.

I begin to pull back, but Paris frames my face with his hands and then teases my lips open with his tongue.

Holy shit . I’m French kissing Paris Andino.

Someone pinch me. I have no idea what I’m doing, but thanks to the wine, I’m not freaking out too much about it.

“Vanessa Cristine Castro!” My mother’s shrill voice cuts through the air.

Paris and I jump apart and turn. My parents are standing not too far from us, and with them, Paris’s parents and Cory. Oh my God . I want a hole to open and swallow me. Mom’s shrewd gaze zeroes in on the discarded wine bottle at our feet, and then it’s freaking Armageddon.

That’s it. I’ll be grounded for life.