Say You'll Remember Me. Katie McGarry

who spent most of the evening looking at my breasts and who kept trying to touch me instead of talking to me isn’t what I want a date to be.

      Me: I hate you.

      Henry: I can live with that. I saw the news. Who was the asshole you were with?

      Me: There were two guys harassing me. I don’t know who they are.

      Henry: Them I’ll figure out. I’m talking about the guy there’s a picture of you looking all googly-eyed at. You’re too young to look at anyone like that.

      I groan. It’s long, it’s painful and the back of my head hits my fluffy bed. The media is having a field day with a picture of me and Drix. No wonder all my friends are demanding details. I go to an all-girls school, and besides the times I’ve snuck out with friends to go to parties where there were boys, I don’t date. I’m pretty sure I’m not allowed to date. It’s not that I’ve been told that as much as there’s been this unspoken agreement. Boys are a complication.

      Me: At least you agree with Mom and Dad on something.

      I stare at my cell, waiting for his response, and my lips lift because I shut him down. Then I frown as another message appears.

      Henry: Were you on a date with this Pierce guy?

      Me: I really did just meet him. And I wasn’t looking googly-eyed at him.

      Henry: Do we have to have the sex talk now? If so, here it is—you’re becoming a nun.

      Neanderthal.

      Me: I’m not Catholic.

      Henry: Semantics.

      The last thing I want to do is talk boys with Henry, and I silently thank the doorbell gods above when the loud chime rings through the house.

      Henry: Can you come down to Grandma’s today?

      I’ll probably never be let out of the house again. Me: I’ll try for tomorrow. Doorbell. Gotta go.

      Barefoot, I pad along the plush carpet of the hallway, down the curved stairs, then cross the hardwood of the foyer.

      I open the door and the late spring heat creeps in. When I lift my head with my practiced smile to greet whichever member of Dad’s staff has been summoned, my eyes widen and sweet nervous adrenaline floods my veins. The type that tickles and makes me feel like I’m floating.

      It’s not Dad’s staff. It’s dirty blond hair sticking up in a sexy way, defined arms, broad shoulders and dark, beautiful eyes. My mouth drops open to speak, but absolutely no words are formed. There’s no way this is real. I want it to be real, but my mind can’t seem to find a reason why this is at all logical. Standing on my doorstep is the main lead of last night’s dreams. It’s Drix.

       Hendrix

      Elle was beautiful yesterday—perfection from a magazine—but today she’s my type of perfect. Cutoff jean shorts, a T-shirt that clings to her curves, blond hair piled upon her head in a messy bun and she wears black horn-rimmed glasses. Gotta admit, it’s the sexiest sight I’ve seen in over a year.

      Those blue eyes go from big, round shock to narrowed and, once again, intimidating. “What are you doing here?”

      I hook my thumbs into my belt loops and wonder the same thing. “My brother received a phone call from a guy named Sean Johnson an hour ago who said I needed to show.”

      Her mouth moves to the side, and I follow the action more closely than I should. Elle has lips made for sin. The kind I would have worked my magic a year ago to spend an evening kissing. Me and sin, though, aren’t friends anymore, and I’m supposed to be avoiding temptation.

      “That sounds like Sean. Super control freakish and bossy.” She widens the door and steps aside to create a path for me. “Come in, then, and I’ll track him down for you. Though it wouldn’t be hard for you to find him yourself. You just have to close your eyes and feel for the dark energy of the Force.”

      Sean Johnson’s the guy Axle talked with the most after we signed on for the program, and Axle would agree with the dark Force association. My brother said that the guy wasn’t an ass, but was pushy. “A good friend of mine is a Star Wars fan.”

      “I’ve seen it a few times. It’s good, but it’s not my thing, you know? My cousin loves it. I had my tonsils taken out when I was ten, and we watched every movie back to back.”

      I walk into the house. “Was it torture for you?

      She brightens like she’s listening to the best chorus of a song in her head. The type of chorus that touches your soul in a way you know you’ll never be the same again. “No. It was with Henry. Anything with Henry is worth doing.”

      I get it. Anything with Axle is worth doing, too.

      Elle closes the door, and I freeze. And I thought the outside of this sprawling house was a formidable fort of red brick. The inside of this place makes me feel like dirt on the bottom of someone’s shoe.

      “I texted Sean.” Elle pockets her cell. “He said to give him a few minutes.”

      “Okay.” Behind Elle is a massive staircase leading to the second floor with an open air hallway. Dark hardwood below me, walls with white crown molding, huge heavy solid oak closed door to my right, and to my left is a dining room with a long table and chandelier.

      I finish the scan and find Elle watching me. Curiosity plain on her face. She’s studying me the same way I’m trying to figure out her.