Magic Hands Page 6

  “See?” Martin boomed.

  “But girls don’t get married that young anymore,” Rachel protested good-naturedly.

  “That’s the problem with society.” Mannie was getting worked up, Rachel could tel by the way her face reddened.

  “If young people found their companions and settled down, there would be less trouble, I know it.”

  “Nonsense.” Martin waved disagreeably at her. “Marriage has everything to do with trouble.”

  “I was wonderful y happy with my Henry for seventy years,” Lily said. Rachel’s heart ached for the little woman whose eyes misted now.

  “Guys.” She didn’t want the discussion getting out of hand. “I’m not going to get married any time soon. I have to graduate, go to col ege.”

  “Wel at least find yourself somebody to be arm-in-arm with, lovey,” Mannie said. “Bring him round to meet us, wil you?”

  Lily nodded. “Oh, how lovely to meet him. What did you say his name was?”

  Rachel laughed. “I didn’t say.” She stood and kissed each one on their soft cheeks. Martin grabbed her arm and kept his shaking hand on it as he pul ed her down for a whisper.

  “You don’t listen to those old dames. You take your time but don’t wait too long or you’l end up like me.”

  Martin had never married. He often complained about it, along with everything else he complained about. But Rachel sensed the deep regret behind those complaints.

  “Next week bring us the Dirty Dozen,” he told her, loud enough so the women would hol er at him. They did.

  Rachel walked to her car with a smile but inside she carried a dul , familiar ache. It was always like this when she left Countryside—joy mixed with sorrow. She never left without thinking about life, love, and choices.

  When she had her first serious crush, she was devastated that the boy had been childishly cruel and ignored her. It hurt her young heart so much she swore she would never be serious about another boy until she was mil ions of miles away from Pleasant View and in her late twenties at the very least.

  The commitment was extreme, and kept her home a lot of weekends because she refused to go on single dates—

  choosing instead to hang with friends in groups. She couldn’t believe she’d made it to her senior year without going to a dance or a prom or anything else like it.

  It wasn’t for lack of friends or invitations. Al of her friends were guys and al of them at one time or another had asked her out. But she preferred hanging in a casual group. That way, things never got too deep. Her feelings stayed intact. She was afraid of getting hurt, a secret she only admitted to herself.

  She thought of Cort as she drove by the now-dark Chachi’s. Something about him was different than her other guy friends. Probably the part of her that was guy-starved imagined Cort was different—because she wanted him to be.

  She pul ed into her driveway. You’re doing it again, setting yourself up. This same kind of irrational emotional thinking had made her think her first crush was different—and he hadn’t been.

  But then they’d only been in sixth grade.

  The house was dark, her parents had gone to bed and the usual note was stuck to the fridge for her.

  Rache-Dad flies out tomorrow so we went to bed early. Some boy named Cort came by for you around nine-fifteen. What a cutie. Is this someone I should know about? We’ll talk over breakfast.

  Love, Mom

  Cort Davies was going for her. Rachel smiled, enjoying a delicious fluttering deep inside. Maybe she’d let the feeling stay a little tonight, it felt so good and completely dissolved any of the sad feelings she often carried for hours after being at Countryside.

  She grabbed a yogurt, set the house alarm and went up to her bedroom. The house was quiet, the way she was accustomed to, when the thumping sounds of their five cats at play was the only sound that bounced off the wal s.

  She went right to her computer and got on Facebook.

  One of the guys from her group of friends had messaged her and she clicked on it, disappointed the message wasn’t from Cort.

  TOD: Rache, Just wanted to ask again – for the dance tomorrow night. Come on, can’t you, just this once? For me?

  For a second, Rachel let herself think about what she would do if the invite was from Cort. Going to a dance with Cort Davies would definitely start a rumble of gossip. Being seen with him would launch her into a stratosphere she wasn’t sure she wanted to orbit in.

  She’d never strove for popularity, always the center of attention in her own comfortable way, and that worked for her. But no teenage girl could deny how excel ent it would be to be seen with a guy like Cort.

  But a guy like Cort wasn’t who she’d be seen with. She let the brief fantasy of the two of them continue in her mind.

  Cort is who she’d be seen with. He was the top of the social ladder at Pleasant View.

  She dipped into her yogurt then typed a reply to Todd.

  sorry, toddy. can’t. you know how i am.

  Sitting back, yogurt in hand, Rachel stared at the screen knowing ful wel that if Cort was asking, she’d be tempted to say yes. As cute as Cort was, as interesting as it was to watch him make moves for her, she’d have to do just as she did with any other guys—refuse. That was the only way not to have her heart derailed.

  The instant message popped onto the screen and that warm fluttering in her bel y returned.

  CORT: hey.

  RACHEL: heard you came by

  CORT: wanted to ask you something but it’s too late now

  RACHEL: hmm. going to tel me or keep me in the dark?

  CORT: doesn’t matter now. your mom’s nice. i didn’t know your dad was an airline pilot. no wonder you get around RACHEL: i’l take it you meant geographical y. yeah, we’ve always traveled. nice perk CORT: lucky you. the rest of us have to earn it RACHEL: hey, wait a minute. my dad’s gone half the month. we earn it, believe me CORT: O man Sorry

  Cort stopped, waiting to see if she was mad. That was the last thing he wanted to do—make her mad at him. After a long pause, she replied: RACHEL: you stil there?

  CORT: i didn’t mean anything by it. sorry A guy who could apologize. Rachel liked that. Another point for Cort. Now, he’d pricked her interest asking her something and then not asking her. She had to know what it was.

  RACHEL: i’l forget it if you tel me why you came by CORT: it’s too late. there’s no point Truthful y, Cort was afraid if he told her and she didn’t like the idea of going to the dance with him, she’d be turned off before he had a chance to prove himself.

  CORT: you going to the dance tomorrow night?

  RACHEL: was that it?

  CORT: no

  Rachel chewed on the spoon in her mouth, disappointed.

  RACHEL: no, I’m not going

  CORT: me either. i have to work

  Rachel felt a rush of relief. He wasn’t going with anyone—good. She decided to let down her guard just a little.

  RACHEL: so i can come in and get my nails done then?

  Hadn’t he been waiting for that for al week now? He’d count the hours until tomorrow.

  CORT: i’l be there, if that’s what you mean RACHEL: so, what happened?

  CORT: what do you mean?

  RACHEL: i didn’t think you ever missed a dance.

  CORT: this wil be the first but, hey, it’s cool. i’l get to spend the night with you Rachel’s spine tingled. He was dangling himself as bait.

  No wonder he was so hot. If she could, she’d reach through the computer and… After that, wel , she wasn’t sure what she’d do but she was pretty sure it would include wrapping her arms around him.

  RACHEL: you have a way with words

  CORT: just tel ing it like it is. so, where were you tonight your mom said you were at work. i didn’t think you worked Rachel set aside her spoon, tried not to feel irritated that he thought she was some rich, spoiled girl who didn’t do anything but live off of her parents’ money.

  RACHEL: i have to go now

  Cort’s pulse skipped. He’d screwed up.

  CORT: did i say something?

  RACHEL: you said enough

  CORT: let me say i’m sorry again. wil that help?

  RACHEL: maybe

  CORT: i didn’t mean anything by the not working comment. ok, i’l admit, i heard you were rich. i saw your house tonight, and you drive the beemer can you blame me?

  RACHEL: no, and i can’t expect you to be different than anybody else, either. see you later, Cort.

  CORT: rache, wait

  Cort waited for her to respond, his fingers tapping on the desk. He couldn’t believe he’d blown it. In two seconds he’d blown it. Would she leave it at that? He typed again, desperate.

  CORT: rache? if i had your phone number, we could talk. i could – i don’t know, say i’m sorry again, kiss your feet, wash your car – something.

  Cort ran his hands down his face and let out a sigh, staring at his own words on the screen.

  RACHEL: you’d wash my car?

  CORT: right now.

  RACHEL: you’d kiss my feet?

  CORT: i’d kiss wherever

  Rachel shuddered thinking about it.

  RACHEL: i’m not going to touch that. i’l see you tomorrow at school

  CORT: what about your nails?

  RACHEL: my nails need to be done so i’l see you at Miss Chachi’s around seven Cort sat back on a groan. She played him like a yo-yo, and it drove him lusciously crazy. He’d never sleep now, not with her surging through his veins.

  He fel onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling where a poster of Sundance ski resort was tacked. He’d stuck the poster there years ago; found that dreaming about the slopes helped relax him on nights like this. But that was before he knew about
girls. About how girls could keep his blood in a whirl that nothing could slow.

  He wanted to talk to Rachel on the phone, hear that low, bass and guitar voice of hers. He wanted tomorrow to be here.

  He had a long night ahead of him, an even longer day with work. Until then, the poster wouldn’t be enough.

  He got up, sat down in front of his computer and clicked onto favorites. From there, he was one click away from the New York City web cam.

  SEVEN

  Rachel walked down the crowded hal with Ticia and Jennifer. The guys were at her elbows and heels, and she tried not to lose her patience.

  Sam, a drummer for the school jazz band shook his head at Todd. “Forget it, dude. She’s not interested in you because she’s waiting for me to ask her.” He nudged into her playful y.

  “Right.” Rachel rol ed her eyes. Miss Tingey’s class was merciful y near. “See you guys later.”

  “You driving for lunch?” Todd asked.

  “How about that new place, Kippers Fish and Chips?”

  Pete asked, slowly trailing a rejected Todd across the hal to another classroom.

  Rachel shrugged. “Maybe.” She wanted to keep her options open.

  With the boys gone, Jennifer leaned over. “Todd’s driving you nuts, I can tel .”

  “When wil he get the message?” Rachel stood outside Miss Tingey’s door as other students entered.

  “Never.” Ticia strained a look down the hal . Her face broke into a big smile and Rachel turned. “He’s so hot.”

  Cort and Chad came toward them. “They’re both hot,”

  Rachel murmured. “Carmel’s looking good today.”

  “Uh-huh.” Ticia agreed. Chad’s code name was Caramel because he was the smoothest talking guy they’d ever overheard.

  They had yet to come up with a code name for Cort, though they’d named al of his friends. As the boys approached, Rachel held the door for them and waved a goodbye to Jennifer and Ticia who went on to class.

  Cort and Chad stopped, and Cort lifted his arm to hold the door open for her. The muscle in his bicep shifted and when his shirt lifted, Rachel caught a glimpse of low bel y, lean and ripped. “After you,” he said with a grin that sent a tingle through her.

  Cort fol owed Rachel inside. She was amazingly aware of his presence behind her. She sat, watched as he greeted friends with the typical male greeting of knocking knuckles and slapping palms.

  He looked over with a private nod, this greeting sexier.

  His dark eyes glittered with something secret.

  Miss Tingey spoke, breaking their tight gaze. “Today’s journal topic is what is real. I know this sounds ambiguous and I want it to. I want to hear what’s real to you at this very moment. Today. Right now. Write.”

  The class started writing and Rachel thought about the topic. What was real for her was the flock of birds swarming inside of her for Cort. Real was the way he looked at her, with a look that said I want you. Real at that very moment was that she was dangerously close to abandoning her resolve to keep her heart protected.

  What was real to Cort? She wondered.

  Rachel looked amazing today in jeans and a light pink hoodie with Sweetstuff across the front of it. Yeah, she was pretty sweet, that was for sure.

  That was real. Cort tried not to let his eyes wander to where she sat. Real is this need I have to get to know her. So consuming. Like hunger.

  “Anybody want to share?” Miss Tingey scanned the class for volunteers. No one raised their hands, the room unusual y quiet. She smiled. “This one’s more personal isn’t it?” Slowly she paced in front of the room with her arms folded. “Why is it more personal?”

  Somebody spoke. “Because it’s where our brains are and that can incriminate.”

  Everyone laughed and Miss Tingey nodded. “True, but that’s also what’s interesting—to see where everybody’s at this very moment. Who’s brave?

  Or do I just cal on people?”

  “We could say whatever,” one boy cal ed out, “and you wouldn’t know whether it was real or not.”

  “But that wouldn’t be any fun,” she teased.

  “Real for me right now is keeping the friggin’ deer out of my mom’s yard,” Kevin sighed.

  Everyone laughed. Cort leaned over to him. “You stil on that?”

  Kevin slumped down in his chair. “Nothing works, man.”

  A general discussion about being honest or not fol owed.

  Final y Miss Tingey cal ed on Maria de Silva.

  Maria’s cheeks flushed red. “Real right now is tonight’s dance and I didn’t get asked.”

  “I’l take you,” a boy told her from the back. She looked at him and turned even redder.

  “Thank you, Maria.” Miss Tingey scanned the room.

  “How about you, Cort?”

  Cort shifted under the glare of the spotlight. He lifted his journal—a blue spiral notebook. “Uh. Real right now is too personal for me to tel the class.”

  Swoons and howls of taunting fil ed the air. Somebody tried to grab his journal. Some of the girls suggested what might be written on those coveted pages. But Cort just looked adorably shy, Rachel thought, except when those brown eyes met hers. Then he looked hot.

  “Personal’s what we want,” Miss Tingey said. “And unless it’s obscene, I expect you to share it. Maria’s was personal, don’t you think?”

  The class agreed, and soon they were chanting, “Read, read, read.”

  Rachel joined in. She wanted more than anyone to know what Cort had written. He spoke with the reluctance of doing something he real y didn’t want to do but knew he wouldn’t get out of.

  “Real is proving to Rachel Baxter that al jocks aren’t jerks.”

  The room thundered with screeches of approval and laughter. Some of the guys slapped Cort’s palm.

  Rachel buried her head in her crossed arms on her desk and tried to stop laughing. Her face burned. People patted her back, somebody tickled her and she jerked upright.

  “Okay,” Miss Tingey laughed. “I guess you two have something to work out.”

  “Rachel should read what’s real,” a boy suggested.

  Shaking her head, Rachel said, “Never.”

  “That’s not fair,” Cort protested, his playful smirk aimed her way.

  Rachel slapped her journal shut. That’s al she’d need, to read aloud her feelings for Cort. Thankful y, Miss Tingey moved on to other students, but Cort stil grinned at her.

  Subtly he mouthed, “Later.”

  The movement of his lips sent a pleasant shudder right down her center. She gave him a non-committal shrug.

  After class, Cort fol owed Rachel. “What’s in your journal, Rache?” he asked. She caught a whiff of something rich and heavenly he’d sprayed on.

  His brown eyes sparkled.

  “You’l never know.”

  “I shared mine.”

  “How nice for you. Can we change the subject now?”

  “Why? You look pretty when you’re embarrassed.”

  Heat flushed her cheeks. He was charming, another point for Cort Davies. “I bet you say that to al the girls.”

  “Nope.” He opened the door to the locker hal for her and she passed, stealing a glimpse of his muscled arm. “You’d like to think I say that to al the girls though, right?”

  Her friends were approaching and she felt a stab of dread that this choice moment would soon be gone. “Maybe.”

  “You’l tel me when I’ve proved you wrong?”

  He was so cute, his face so sincere. Rachel had doubts she’d ever tel him because then al of this would be over.

  “Rache.” She was surrounded now, albeit apprehensively, by the guys, guardedly checking out Cort.

  “Hey.” Cort greeted them casual y. Then he looked at her again. “So I’l see you tonight?”

  “Sure.”

  Cort walked away but the fluttering in her stomach didn’t leave. She watched as he melded into the crowd.

  “You know Cort Davies?” Sam asked.

  Todd’s expression was wounded. “Are you going to the dance with him?”

  Rachel walked the opposite direction. “I’m not going to the dance, I already told you.”

  “But he said he’d see you tonight.” Todd fel instep with her, his frustration plain.

  Rachel refused to let it bug her. “That’s what he said.”

  “So, what does that mean?” Todd persisted.

  “Leave it, dude.” Sam elbowed him.