Jessica WakefieldEverything is completely wacked right now.
Melissa is in the hospital. Will is devastated. Elizabeth is fooling around with the guy she's living with who her best friend is totally in love with. And she stole...well...
borrowed his car the other night. That really threw me. It should have given me a little clue that things were about to take an insane turn.
But all I can think about is Jeremy. When he kissed me, nothing else seemed to matter. And everything has mattered
so much for so long...
It just makes me want to kiss him again. Really badly.
Elizabeth WakefieldI never want to kiss Conner McDermott again.
Really. I'm serious.
It's not worth it. It's not worth the look on Maria's face when she caught us. That devastated, pierced, dying-inside look.
Just because I can still feel his soft lips on my neck and his tongue tickling my earlobe and his hands...his hands...
Okay. So I lied.
I want to kiss him again. But that doesn't mean I will.
Right?
Maria SlaterTo: KenQB@swiftnet.com
From: mslater@swiftnet.com
Time: 11:21 A.M.
Subject: Aaaaaaahhh!!!!
Ken-
I know I already left you a message on your machine, and I swear I'm not stalking you. I just saw Conner and Elizabeth kissing. No. Not kissing. Mauling each other right in the pantry in his kitchen. I feel like I'm going to throw up. I swear. And Liz saw me, and she just stood there. She just looked right at me. And then I bolted. Wuss that I am.
She lied to me in the car the other day. She lied! Right to my face.
Should I have tried to talk to her?
Ken. What do I do? What am I going to do?
Call me!!!
Maria
P.S. Sorry I'm a psycho.
Ken MatthewsTo: mslater@swiftnet.com
From: KenQB@swiftnet.com
Time: 1:22 P.M.
Subject: Aaaaaaahhh!!!!-Reply
Maria-
I would call, but I'm at my aunt's house and I don't have your number here. Tried information, but you're not listed.
Man, I'm sorry.
To answer your question, I don't think you should have talked to her. You were too upset. And I think it's her turn to come to you now. Then maybe you can talk. Just my opinion.
I hope you're okay. I'll be home tonight and I'll call.
P.S. You're not a psycho.
Jeremy Aames picked up his cordless phone, punched two numbers, and then replaced it on the base.
"You can do this," he said to himself. "Just ask her."
After giving countless locker-room pep talks as captain of the Big Mesa football team, Jeremy had learned the value of a personal go-get-'em speech. It was a great way to combat fear and almost always worked.
Almost always.
"Go for it, Aames," he continued. "You've done it before. This is no different."
Actually . . . it is
different, Jeremy reminded himself.
This is Jessica.Jessica Wakefield. He saw her dancing sapphire eyes, her playful, slightly pouty mouth, her smooth, golden tan skin--all framed by silky golden hair.
Jeremy was in love. If he wasn't in love, he figured he should probably see a shrink fast. Ever since he and Jessica had shared their first kiss earlier that afternoon, Jeremy hadn't been able to think of anything else. For once even his overly stressful home life had been back-burnered.
He leaned against the Formica kitchen counter, head in hands, and sighed. The next logical step, he knew, was to ask her out and establish the traditional dating pattern that real couples shared. Easy, right? Only it wasn't that easy. Jessica deserved better than the stereotypical dinner-and-movie routine something memorable. Unfortunately Jeremy couldn't afford something memorable. He couldn't even afford something semiforgettable.
Jeremy ran his hand through his dark, spiky bangs, mentally listing all the entertainment possibilities in the valley. The beach? No. Too overdone. Ernie's Bowling Alley? Not exactly the classy setting he was hoping for. The Riot? Too loud and hot. Besides, it wasn't really his scene.
Suddenly an idea came to him. He jumped out of the chair, picked up the phone, and quickly dialed a set of numbers.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Keith. What's up?" Jeremy said brightly.
"What do you want, Jeremy?" Keith asked, already suspicious.
Jeremy knew this wouldn't be easy. Keith Moxon was a friend, but he wasn't the type of person who gave just for the joy of giving. "You still working at the Majestic Theater?" Jeremy asked, picking up a pen and tapping it against the counter.
"Yeah," Keith answered, drawing out his response.
"I was wondering if I could scam a couple of tickets for tomorrow night's performance," Jeremy said. He quit tapping and started doodling on the front page of the newspaper.
"Hot date?" Keith asked with a chuckle. "You want to take advantage of our dark balcony seats, right?"
"No, Keith." Jeremy's voice went flat. "That's
your idea of a hot date. I'm more interested in atmosphere."
"Whatever you say." Keith laughed. "The Majestic has plenty of . . . atmosphere."
Jeremy ignored Keith's patronizing tone and looked down at the newspaper. He'd been unconsciously drawing hearts. Jeremy dropped the pen. "What's playing there anyway?" he asked.
"
Romeo and Juliet, the Bard's star-crossed lovers," Keith announced with appropriate dramatic flair.
"Cool. That's romantic."
"Sure. I guess. If you think gang warfare, murder, and suicide are romantic," Keith joked.
"Whatever," Jeremy said. "So what's this going to cost me?"
"Hmmm. Well, it
is last minute . . . ," Keith began gleefully.
"Come on, Keith," Jeremy said, rolling his eyes.
"And I
am risking my reputation for this," Keith continued. "I mean, for all I know, you and your lady friend could end up heckling the actors or disturbing the rest of the audience with loud, wet kissy noises."
Jeremy's patience was rapidly depleting. "You know,
you're the one who should be onstage--"
"How about your autographed Steve Young card?" Keith interrupted.
"Are you
kidding me?"
"How special did you say this girl was?"
Jeremy could just imagine Keith's self-satisfied grin. "Fine, fine. Take it," Jeremy grumbled.
"Then there's the little matter of waxing my car . . . ," Keith said.
"No! No way," Jeremy said, slicing his hand through the air as if Keith could see it. "Don't even--"
"Whoa, Aames. Chill," Keith cut in. "I was just kidding. Who
is this girl you want to impress anyway? Cameron Diaz?"
Jeremy's temper was inching toward the red zone. "Uh-uh. I'm not giving you any information. Just reserve two of your best seats in my name for tomorrow night's show, okay?"
"Sure thing, dude. But don't forget to bring Steve," Keith teased.
Jeremy hung up with a frustrated groan. He couldn't believe he was giving up Steve Young. But then he thought of Jessica, and immediately his mood began to lighten. He'd hand over the real Steve Young for a chance with her.
"You can do it, Aames," he mumbled as he carefully punched in her number. His heart was hammering in his ears. "You're in way too deep to blow it now."
"Hello?"
Jeremy immediately recognized Jessica's voice, and a fluttering sensation filled his chest.
Now what? he wondered, panicking.
"Hey, Jess. It's . . . um . . . it's Jeremy."
"Jeremy!" she exclaimed. "How are you? How's your dad?"
"I'm okay," Jeremy responded. "And my dad's better, but they decided to keep him over one more night to monitor him. He's coming home first thing tomorrow morning."
"That's good to hear," Jessica responded quietly, distractedly.
"Are you okay?" Jeremy asked, his brow creasing.
"Yeah. I'm just . . . dealing with some stress," she said.
Jeremy nodded. "I know about stress. Actually, I own that word. I think you owe me royalties for using it in a sentence."
Jessica laughed, and Jeremy took a deep breath. Time to take the plunge.
"Listen, Jess," he began. "I--I wanted to know if you had any plans for tomorrow night." Jeremy's heart moshed inside him. He gripped the phone with both hands as if an invisible defensive line were rushing after it.
"Well, I'm working until six-thirty, but after that I'm free. Why?" A playful tone returned to Jessica's voice.
"I was wondering if you'd like to . . . go out." Jeremy let the words tumble free.
"Sounds great! Where to?"
Jeremy's heart jumped. "I . . . um . . ." An idea suddenly took shape in his mind. "I can't tell you. It's a surprise."
"A surprise?" Jessica's pitch rose excitedly. "I left you three hours ago. How did you come up with a surprise date that fast?"
"It's a special talent," Jeremy said, smiling.
"Can I have one hint?" Jessica asked.
"Well . . . it's bigger than a bread box."
"Gee, thanks," she said sarcastically. "At least give me a clue to location."
"It's definitely on this planet. In California, to be more precise." Jeremy leaned back in his chair.
"Okay. I guess that rules out flying the Concorde to Paris."
