“Yeah. Exactly.”
She smiled. “That’d be cool. I’ve never done it before, so some help would be great.” Liv looked over, biting her lip. “About my dad, though … I don’t really want everyone to know.”
“Don’t worry, Liv,” I said quickly. “It’s totally between us.”
“Thanks.” Neither of us said anything for a minute, the silence not awkward, but not really comfortable either, the way it is when you find yourself somewhere a little more intense than you meant to be.
“Sooo,” I said finally, “want to go back to talking about hot guys?”
“Absolutely!” Liv grinned, tires squealing as she swung into a spot and shut off the car. “Hot guys who work with dead people.”
“Okay.” I sighed in mock exasperation. “Tell me what your friend said about Ryan.” Having Liv tease me about my supposed crush was a lot better than having her think too much about the whole dead-bodies thing. Or about how I’d lied. Or about the problems with her dad.
“She said he’s a brainiac—AP classes, Scholar’s Bowl, that sort of thing—but he’s got an awesome bod.” Liv raised an eyebrow, looking devilish. “True?”
I thought of how he’d felt behind me at the chapel door; strong arms, broad shoulders. The way he moved, both athletic and graceful. “Yeah.” I nodded, getting out of the car. “He’s not bad.”
“Well, he’s not seeing anyone,” she yelled over the roof, slamming her door shut against the wind and motioning me to hurry. “She said he spends a lot of time working, which of course she thought was weird. You know, because of where he works.” Liv nudged my arm as we jogged toward the mall.
I nodded. “It’s not that bad when you get used to it.”
“Uh, okay.” We’d reached the entrance. Liv paused with her hand on the door handle and turned to me. “So, did he ask you out or what?”
“No! Nothing like that,” I said, opening the other door to walk in ahead of her. “I told you I was just curious. I’m not into him or anything.” Not really. Though he was interesting. And maybe a little hot.
“Oh.” Liv paused, biting her lip. “So I shouldn’t have told my friend to let him know you’d asked?”
“What?” I stopped dead, turning to face her. “You didn’t.”
She laughed out loud. “No. I didn’t.” Liv started down the mall again. “Let’s go, we’ll miss the previews.”
It was an hour and a half of totally ridiculous brain sucking and shambling. The dead people and brains didn’t even look realistic.
Afterward, we stood outside the theater. Erin and Liv were talking to some guy, Nick, from their art class, but Hannah dragged me away, rolling her eyes. “We’ll rescue them from Loserville later,” she said. Instead I got to listen to her friend Pete talk about his car. At excruciating length. I couldn’t have been happier when he glanced over my shoulder, stopping in midsentence to yell “Max!”, gave us the barest of “see ya’s,” and trotted over to a dark-haired girl by the music store.
“He’s had a crush on her forever,” Hannah said petulantly, staring after him. “Maxine Perkins. She goes to Wexford Academy.”
“Oh yeah?” A group of guys and girls came out of the store, sauntering toward where Max and Pete were laughing and talking. I started to ask Hannah if she wanted to grab some ice cream when I saw Zander Dasios at the rear of the group. I felt heat rising to my cheeks immediately.
“Let’s go over and talk to them,” Hannah said, her mouth set in a tight “I’m going to get my guy back” line.
“Oh, I don’t know.” I took a step backward, the idea of coming face-to-face with Zander a little overwhelming, but Hannah already had her arm hooked through mine, pulling me relentlessly toward them.
Zander looked up as we approached. Our eyes met and a smirk caught the corner of his lip. I looked away, my mind spinning. I’d never spoken to him, never been closer than across the hall at school, yet somehow I felt he knew things about me. He was that kind of guy, overly aware of the effect he had on girls.
I stood by Hannah’s side, a fake smile pasted on my lips, cringing at how she forced herself into the conversation, loud and too happy. I couldn’t see Zander but knew he was near, sensed him somewhere behind me.
I turned, casually glancing over my shoulder to find him leaning against the wall, ten feet back, with his head cocked slightly to the side. Watching me.
I looked away, my heart pounding. He wasn’t really looking at me, I thought. Just at the group—all of us—wondering when his friends would be done, ready to get ice cream or have a cigarette or whatever types like him did. I tried to ignore that he was there and focus on the conversation, but Pete’s words were meaningless gibberish, my mind completely occupied with the way it had felt to have Zander’s eyes connect with mine.
I knew I shouldn’t, that I’d look like a fool, but I couldn’t resist. Stupid, stupid, stupid, I thought even as I did it: turned my head to glance back over my shoulder.
Zander was still staring at me. He raised his eyebrows expectantly. Waiting for me.
Hesitantly, I stepped away from the group, their conversation fading to a mumble as I walked toward him, stopping close enough to see the fineness of his dark eyelashes.
“Hi,” I said, after a few seconds of silence that stretched uncomfortably, though Zander didn’t seem to notice. “I’m Cassie.”
He nodded. “I know.”
He was still watching me quietly, smiling a little. Making me fidget. I clasped my hands behind my back so they’d stop. “This is the part where you say, ‘I’m Zander,’ ” I told him.
“But you already know who I am.”
“Yes,” I admitted, “but it’s the polite thing to do. It’s called small talk.”
Slowly he grinned, his eyes never leaving mine, and he shifted from the wall to hold out his hand. “Hi, Cassie. I’m Zander.”
I reached out, slipping my hand in his, visualizing zombie brain fests to forget about the way my whole body tingled from touching him.
“Now what?” he asked.
“Huh?”
He withdrew his hand from mine and I felt the gentle friction of his palm on my skin. He folded his arms languidly across his chest, completely relaxed and confident as he leaned against the wall. “What do we do now, oh goddess of social convention?”