The Secrets of Attraction by Robin Constantine Read Free Book Online Page B

my drawing was total crap—it was of him, after all—but showing it to him made me fidgety.
    â€œNice floor plan,” he said, smirking and sliding it back to me.
    â€œYou’re distracting.” I opened up to a fresh page.
    I knew art was a process; trial and error and failing and growing, but anything that came out through my pencil lately looked nothing like the vision in my head. Not being able to translate what was in my brain to paper made me want to hurl my sketchbook across the room.
    â€œYou need to chill, like that little shirtless dude over there,” he said, referring to the new resident of our mantelpiece: a Laughing Buddha statue my mom picked up to help her focus on all the abundance in her life while she meditated.
    â€œThat little shirtless dude is enlightened, so happiness is his natural state—he doesn’t need to earn a scholarship anywhere.”
    â€œNo, I think he’s happy because he’s half-naked.” Zach pulled his shirt off to prove his point. If I thought I could draw his arms for hours, Zach’s torso could keep me occupied for weeks.
    â€œSee, you’re smiling already,” he said. “Stop worrying, it’ll get done.”
    That was Zach. SAT scores? He’d get an athletic scholarship. Backup schools? Without a doubt in his mind he was going to Rutgers. He’d play soccer for four years, and be in TKE like his older brother. And if none of that worked out? Something else would come along. Nothing fazed him. He was spectacularly uncomplicated, a living, breathing chill pill.
    â€œPlease, you have to put your shirt back on. Want a water or something?” I asked, getting up to go to the kitchen. He reached for my hand as I brushed past him, and pulled me onto his lap.
    â€œI think we can do better than water.”
    My muscles tensed to spring up, but he was so warm . . . and half-naked. Maybe he was right. I needed to loosen up, although the moment his lips grazed my neck every cell in my body snapped to attention. Chillin’ was the last thing on my mind.
    His curls brushed my cheek, then my chin, as he kissed my neck. I traced the curves of his arms with my fingertips, buried my face in his hair. God, he smelled so good. Like mint. Some sulfate-free organic shampoo his mother insisted heuse. The day dissolved. What floor plans? What dance?
    â€œOh, hey, Zach,” I said, my voice sounding far away to me.
    â€œMmmhmm.”
    He lifted his face to mine, planting a kiss on my mouth. He looked sleepy, unconcerned.
    â€œYes,” he said, kissing my cheek.
    â€œWhat’s Kyle doing next Friday?”
    He stopped, stiffened. “What?”
    I pulled back from him. “There’s this dance at school and—”
    He laughed. “You want to go with Kyle?”
    â€œNo, but . . . is he seeing anyone?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThink you could hook me up with his number? For Jazz.”
    â€œFor Jasmine, yeah, sure,” he said, grabbing his phone off the table.
    â€œWait, do you think . . . He’ll go, right?”
    He scrolled through his contacts, copied Kyle’s number, and sent it to me in a text. My phone dinged from across the room.
    â€œDunno, I guess. Am I going?” he asked, placing his phone back down.
    I walked my fingers up his chest. “Maybe.”
    â€œMaybe?” He put his hands on my waist and poked his fingers into my ribs—my absolute worst ticklish spot. There was a dare in his eyes. I wriggled in anticipation.
    â€œOkay, okay. Sure,” I said.
    â€œSure what? Are you asking me?” His fingers poised to dig deeper.
    â€œZach O’Keefe, will you go to this silly dance thing with me next Friday?”
    He stared me down, then all-out tickled me until I howled.
    â€œZach . . . okay . . . okay . . .” I begged. Just before it got more painful than fun, he stopped. I wrapped my arms around him, laughing. It took a few seconds to catch my