The Truth About Faking

questions.”
    “So? My dad’s a reverend. I’m saving myself.”
    “That’s nice. I like it. I get another turn.”
    “Dare.” I say immediately.
    “OK.” He thinks for a moment. Then he sits up again. “I dare you to say this.”
    I watch his finger trace letters on the grass. F , U …
    “Seriously?” I say, catching his hand.
    He laughs and laces our fingers. “What?”
    I pull my hand out of his. “Are you just trying to be a jerk to me? That’s not who I am, and you know it.”
    “It’s just a game, Harley.”
    “But why do you want to play it with me? Why can’t you just accept my choices and respect me for them?”
    “I do respect you. But what if you’re still deciding how you feel about your choices? And what if you decide to make different ones?” He looks down. “I’d kind of like to be there for that.”
    All those feelings for him are sneaking back, and I can’t remember how I fought them off before. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say. “This is who I am. And if you don’t like it—”
    “I’m talking about, like with the wine coolers.”
    “I was just curious. I should’ve known you’d take that and run or whatever.”  Everything I want to say seems fuzzy. “That’s just the kind of thing that makes it impossible for me to—”
    I bite my lip. I was just about to say “to go out with you,” but since when do I worry about going out with Jason? I’m going out with Trent!
    “For you to what?”
    “Nothing. Just nevermind.” I move to my knees. It’s got to be time to go home. “It’s getting late, and I’m not staying up all night for this.”
    “So you’d stay up for something different?” His smile’s back, and for a moment I glance at his lips and wonder…
    “No,” I say, shaking my head.
    “Well, you’re right, that was a pretty lame dare. And it’s my last.” He sits back on his heels again. “New one.”
    “I didn’t mean—”
    “Kiss me.” His eyes lock on mine and hold them. My heart jumps, and I feel my cheeks grow warm.
    “What?” I say, but my voice sounds funny to me. Too high or something.
    He gets on his knees in front of me and leans in so our faces are very close. “Kiss me,” he whispers. My stomach does a flip.
    “No,” I say quietly.
    “Dammit, Harley!” He throws up his hands and leans back. “Why not?”
    “Because I can’t kiss you.” I look down. I’m having a hard time breathing.
    “Why not?”
    “Because we were just talking about first times, and all that other stuff. It sounds like…”
    “Like what?” His voice is soft, and he moves toward me again. That tingly warmth is in my stomach.
     
    I push back and stand up fast. Then I suddenly feel like I might fall down. I look and see my second bottle’s empty.
    “Take me home,” I say, reaching out to hold the tree. My head’s spinning.
    “Home?” He stands up beside me.
    “Jason, take me home,” I feel like I have my balance again and start walking toward the car.
    “Slow down, Weavy.” He trots down and takes my arm. “I’ll take you home.”
    But when we get to the car, he turns me to face him and pulls me close.
    “Just kiss me first,” he says softly.
    I push back. “I said no.”
    “I don’t mean it as a dare,” he says. “I mean it because I want you to.”
    I look up at his brown eyes. My heart feels like a little hummingbird caught in my chest. I can’t kiss Jason. I’m hoping to be kissing Trent tomorrow night.
    “No,” I breathe, looking down and gently pushing him again. “Let me go.”
    He sighs and lets me go. I open the car door and get in, pulling my knees up to my chest. Jason goes around and climbs in on his side. He doesn’t speak as he drives me back to my house. When the car stops, I reach for the door handle to get out, and in silence I walk to my front door. I’ve just gotten there when I feel him behind me.
    “Wait,” he whispers.
    I turn around. “What?”
    “Don’t go yet,” he pulls me back into his arms.
    My hands are resting on his chest, and I’m looking at them. My heart is beating so fast. I really do want to kiss him, but I’m supposed to be kissing Trent , not Jason. What’s wrong with me?
    It doesn’t matter. He leans forward and gently presses his lips to mine. I quickly slide my hands around his neck, and he pushes my mouth open with his. He tastes sweet like the fruity wine we’ve been drinking, and when our tongues met, electricity races to my toes. A