Chapter 8

“A blindfold? Seriously?”

“I told you it was a surprise,” Hunter said, stepping behind me to slip the blindfold on—a dish towel by the smell of it, and not an exceptionally clean one. I almost grabbed it and told him off, but Hunter’s voice held a hint of nervousness. If this excursion were important enough to break a window for, I could deal with a dish towel over my face.

“You have a fat head,” he muttered, barely managing to situate the towel over my eyes.

“Some of us actually have brains,” I said matter-of-factly as the cloth forced my eyes closed and my world descended into darkness.

“Spoken like a true geek. Now, follow me.” His hand took mine and pulled me gently across the front lawn.

Hunter had touched me at least five hundred times before. It shouldn’t have been a big deal. But for some reason, tonight, every cell in my hand felt on fire. I was incredibly aware of every single one of his fingers—the thumb that grasped the back of my hand, the forefinger that gently rested on the inside of my palm. Even my hearing felt more heightened. I could make out the sound of his soft breathing as we arrived in his yard—I could tell by the gravel driveway underfoot—and approached his car. He opened the door and placed a hand on my waist to guide me inside. Even this simple motion made my skin explode with pleasure.

What was wrong with me tonight?

He placed his other hand on my head to protect it as I ducked inside. As I fumbled to find the seat belt, the door slammed and he came around to the driver’s seat.

“Let me,” he whispered, and his hand brushed my shoulder as he leaned over to grasp my seat belt and pull it across my torso. The smell of leather and mint filled my senses, and I knew his face was close. I could sense it. In fact, if I turned my head, we’d practically be kissing.

For once, I didn’t hate the thought.

Whoa. I must have been very tired because this was Hunter. My best friend. The kid who covered me in mud when we were toddlers and invited me swimming in his backyard in third grade so we could have a splashing contest. The one who constantly made bets he knew I’d lose so I’d have to buy him chocolate ice cream at the diner across town. He was the last person I should be thinking about locking lips with.

But he smelled so blasted good.

We drove five minutes, then ten. By his increasing speed and the lack of stoplights, I guessed we had to be outside our small Arizona town’s limits. Another ten minutes passed.

“If you’re trying to make me carsick, it’s working,” I grumbled, seriously considering ripping the cloth off my eyes.

“Almost there, I swear it. Maybe two minutes more.”

True to his word, Hunter soon slowed and parked the car. Then he came around to my side and opened the door. His hand took mine a second time.

“It isn’t far,” he said .

I followed my best friend with full confidence, noting the soft dirt underfoot and the hot breeze surrounding us. The Arizona desert.

“You can sit now.” Hunter released my hand.

I found a seat, as it turned out, on a soft blanket. I recognized the feel of it—the quilt from his bed. It even smelled like him. I would have wrapped myself in it and taken in the scent if it weren’t still eighty degrees outside. Hopefully he’d chosen a spot free of red ants, lizards, and snakes. I wasn’t a fan of creepy-crawlies or anything that slithered.

Hunter plopped down next to me. I’d put on shorts along with my frumpy old band T-shirt, and I could feel his hairy legs next to my shaved ones. My body tingled where our skin met, though I refused to acknowledge this weirdly new sensation.

Finally, the night sky unfolded as his fingers loosened and removed the blindfold. At our feet sat a cardboard box containing sodas, a giant round mass that looked like a homemade cheesecake, and a stack of plates and forks.

“A midnight picnic?” I guessed, looking at him questioningly. My grin melted as our gazes met and I found him watching me with the most serious of expressions, his dark eyes reflecting the stars I only now noticed in the night sky.

It drew my gaze upward, and I gasped. Far in the distance, a giant mass of light with a long tail streaked across the sky. It felt frozen in time and space, a brilliant white against the deep purple and orange of night.

“P/94, or Bryant’s comet,” Hunter said. “It comes around every 150 years or so. Only every other generation gets to see it, and only in certain parts of the world.”

“Wow,” I whispered, doing the math. “So the last people to see this lived in the 1800s? ”

Hunter nodded. “France in 1870, to be precise. There’s a record by Napoleon III himself referencing this very comet. He saw it as an omen that his country would be safe. Which it wasn’t because that was rather a rough year for Paris.”

I gave Hunter a good, hard look. “Who’s the geek now?”

He chuckled. “You’re obsessed with Paris. I was bound to come up with a nugget of history or two.”

I sighed, happier than I’d been in a long time. “And in just over a day, I’ll be there.”

“You deserve it. I wish my mom gave me a graduation trip.”

I nudged him with my shoulder. “She gave you a car.”

“If that’s what you call that tin can.”

I grinned. Hunter could pretend all he wanted, but I knew he loved the freedom that dented little Pontiac afforded him. “My mom is nervous about leaving Jillian behind, but my grandparents will spoil her like always.”

“That’s what grandparents are for. According to mine, anyway.”

We sat back in easy silence, enjoying the cooler night air and the bright light in the distance. I’d always thought a comet would streak through the night sky in a flash of light, here one second and gone the next, like an asteroid. Yet this comet lingered, hovering in the sky as if to say, “I’m here and I want everyone to know it.”

I’d arrive in Paris like that. I’d been packed for two months already. Simply put, I couldn’t be more ready for this trip.

“I’ll miss you,” Hunter said softly. “How do you say that in French?”

“Tu me manques, I think. ”

He tried to repeat the words, stumbling over the accent—a small-town Arizona boy who simply endured his best friend’s obsession with Paris and learned words because they pleased her. It didn’t get more adorable than that. Maybe I’d buy him a gift in Paris, a T-shirt or something.

“I’ll miss you too,” I said honestly. This would be the first time we were separated in as long as I could remember. If only he could come along. It would have made my time in Paris even more perfect. But if he couldn’t, my mom was the next best thing. Just me and her, and no annoying little sisters, celebrating my freedom from high school and childhood in general.

Bring it on.

“Now, about the cheesecake,” he began. “It’s my mom’s recipe, so it’s edible. It just doesn’t look like it.”

My heart warmed even more at his efforts. He knew how much I loved real, authentic, homemade cheesecake. “I noticed. Thanks for the effort.” I gave his hand a squeeze.

He gave a slight intake of breath, or I could have imagined it.

Then we were as frozen as the night sky itself, my hand intertwined with his, and him seeming to hold his breath.

We stared at each other, and something that felt new and a little scary stirred inside. My skin against his felt like a blazing fire now, and I didn’t release his hand. I couldn’t. My body wouldn’t move from this spot, and I couldn’t have torn my eyes from his if I tried.

I felt lost in the universe that was Hunter, surrounded by him. Somewhere inside, I knew we closed the distance between us like a comet streaking slowly through the sky. But I could no more defy what pulled me to him than I could defy gravity .

I finally yanked my gaze free and landed on his lips, so often curved into a smirk or spouting playful insults. Tonight, though, his lower lip fell slightly open, as if Hunter were stunned into silence. I suddenly felt overcome with a desire to taste those lips. Paris fled to the back of my mind. All I could remember was that I would leave in a few hours, and I couldn’t leave without knowing what Hunter’s lips felt like on mine.

And then my lips were falling, falling toward his, and the moment of truth approached. Would he lean in or pull back?

Disbelief flashed in his eyes for the briefest of seconds, nearly derailing my trajectory. But just as I thought he would turn his head, his lips quirked upward and he leaned forward.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. A second, and it buzzed again. Who could possibly be calling us right now?

He jerked back as if burned, releasing my hand. “One sec,” he said, his voice hoarse.

With a sigh, I watched him slide the phone from his pocket and unlock the screen. “What’s up, Jillie?” Could there be a frustrated tone to his voice, or did I imagine it?

“Is Kennedy there with you?” my sister asked in a rush.

“I’m here,” I told her, feeling my earlier joy dissipate as my mind raced through the possibilities. Mom had found the broken window. I’d be grounded for two months, maybe three. This wouldn’t keep us from going to Paris, would it? “Sorry, I forgot I left my phone at home.”

My sister took a deep breath. “I don’t know how to say this, but you need to come home.”

Lovely. “Tell Mom I’ll be right there.” If I told her the truth, maybe my sentence wouldn’t be so bad. It was the night of graduation, after all, and I wouldn’t see Hunter for over a week. It wasn’t like she would cancel Paris or anything.

“No, you don’t understand. It’s Mom.” Jillian’s voice shook. “An ambulance is taking her to the hospital.”