She smiled. “Sooooo,” Sera said, dragging out the word, “did you have any suggestions?”

“Um, are you hungry?”

“Like any proper girl going on a date of unknown destination, I am halfway hungry.”

“Uh . . . what?”

“It’s when you eat a little bit before you go out so that you’re hungry enough to eat something if the guy takes you for food, and full enough that you won’t be starving the whole time if he doesn’t.”

Sera always has a plan. And probably a backup plan.

I never do.

“How about dessert?” I asked.

“Dessert?”

“Yeah, since you’re all halfway hungry, you know?” Wait—I framed the question carefully. “Do you . . . eat dessert?” I mean, you never know with girls.

She gave me a full-out grin on that one and I about melted. “I love dessert.”

I pulled into the first restaurant I saw and a few minutes later we were tucked into a booth with a peanut-butter milkshake and a brownie-fudge sundae in front of us as well as a Diet Coke. I always think it’s weird to see people who order a dessert . . . and a Diet Coke.

“I like the way it tastes,” Sera said, defending herself when I pointed it out.

“Suuure,” I slurred, spooning the whipped cream off the top of my milkshake.

We polished off our desserts in the first fifteen minutes or so, then sat and talked idly. She told me about Whitestone; I told her about Phoenix. And I had to ask her what it was like living in such an enormous house.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it,” she admitted. “We have a gym and a theater room; I have my own bathroom, that kind of thing. But . . . I don’t know, when I think of my ‘family’ I don’t think of my parents. I think of Khail. Just him. I guess I wish I had a real family and a smaller house.”

I grinned and told her about my parents and their rather inauspicious beginning. “I have a few memories of living in an apartment where my ‘room’ was the couch,” I said, and she shook her head.

“Seems like everyone wants what they don’t have,” she said, then looked up at me. “But you kinda have everything you want now, don’t you?”

I shrugged. “I’m lucky, I guess.” Or would be, if I could get rid of psycho ghost girl and keep things moving along with Sera.

Another hour passed in good but oddly awkwardness-free small talk until the waitress’s glares became a little too obvious to ignore.

“Not exactly your ‘linger over coffee’ kind of restaurant, I guess,” Sera said with a giggle as we headed into the parking lot. I wondered if it would be too weird to take her hand. After all, we were only twenty feet from my car.

But it also seemed weird to not do anything. Finally, when we were only about ten feet away, I placed my hand at the small of her back. She didn’t react; I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. When we reached the car she turned and looked up at me as she leaned against the door.

“So, what now?” she asked with a coy grin.

I found myself smiling back. “I don’t know.”

She looked down at her watch. “Well, I have to be back in twenty minutes, but that gives us about ten before we have to actually get going.”

Was she trying to say something? I couldn’t be sure.

I finally decided that at the very least, she was saying something, so I carefully placed my hands on either side of her waist, making sure I wasn’t putting them anywhere near her ass. No repeating my lame mistakes from last night.

She smiled up at me like she was indulging me, but she didn’t pull away. “I’m not really like the guys you usually date, am I?” I asked. May as well know.

She laughed, and shook her head. “Maybe not.”

“Then . . . why did you say yes?” Part of me didn’t want to know, but hey, after embarrassing myself so badly last night, a simple question could hardly be a deal breaker.

“Well,” she said, looking thoughtful for a few seconds. “I haven’t had a boyfriend in a while—”

Great. I’m the rebound guy. I braced myself.

“But when I was dating a lot it was always jocks or the really popular guys and they all turned out to be jerks.” She shrugged. “You seem nice. Actually nice—not just nice to get in my pants.”

Well . . .

“And I guess I’m trying to follow my instincts this time instead of my social compass.”

Was that a compliment or not? Screw it—I didn’t care.

So I kissed her.

Her mouth was so soft and warm I could hardly believe it was real. But when I got nervous and pulled away, her fingers pressed tight against my back and she ran her other arm up around my neck, pulling my face back down to hers. My hands, still at her waist, pulled her toward me, our hips snug. I could taste the restaurant’s complimentary mint on her breath. Her hands gripped my shoulders, almost like she needed help balancing. Foreheads still touching, I reluctantly ended our kiss.

And when she smiled I started another one.

I did manage to get her home on time. Barely.

Fourteen

“SO WHEN DO WE DO IT?” Kimberlee asked just before getting out of the car the next morning. It wasn’t a great plan, but it would work.

“Not during Bleekman’s class. Or Wilkinson’s. I left his class on Friday. He’ll get suspicious.”

“Okay, how about second hour? That’ll give me enough time to get the combos. You can tell Mrs. Campbell you have to pee.”