Page 74 of Kiss Collector

“You tryna hide that girl?”

Joel sounds steady in comparison to Camille’s sassy tone. She knows I’m in here. I’m glad all the counselors are in their rooms with their doors shut. The office area is quiet and calming, but my heart still thuds with the possibility of violence.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you touch her,” Joel says. “I was there that night. She was drunk, and her girls dared her to kiss someone. It was nothing. She’s not after Q.”

“I don’t give a damn about some lil’ peck in the kitchen. I care about her going in his room with him.”

What?!My breathing halts. Is that what people are saying? Ugh, I freaking hate high school sometimes!

“She never went anywhere with him. After the kitchen incident I helped take her home.”

I hear her smack her lips. “My friend saw him go up in his room with a cheerleading girl.”

“You need to ask your friend to fact-check, because it wasn’t Zae Monroe.”

A long pause follows before she says, “All right. Imma check. But if they say it was her, you can’t save your girl, you hear me?”

“I hear you, Cam. And I know the truth, so I ain’t worried.”

I flatten myself against the wall until the girls walk away. Two seconds later my heart jumps as Joel opens the door and slips in like smoke.

He eyes me. “You’re good.”

“Thank you.” It comes out a pathetic blast of air. God, I’m a wimp.

“Don’t worry about it.”

I can’t let it go. It’s too good to be true. “You know her?”

“Kinda. Her best friend used to go with Kwami.”

The bell rings and I let out a gust of breath, looking at the clock.

“I can write you a pass,” he says. How awesome that the guidance aides can do that.

Joel might have a bad rep, and I have no idea what he did in the past, but he’s now the nicest damn person I know.

“Thank you.” Worst day ever.

I watch Joel scratching words on the green notepad with his left hand bent over it. He tears off the sheet and hands it to me, but I’m not ready to leave him yet.

“Hey.” I fidget with the pass in my fingers. “About Saturday...”

“Nothin’ to say.” His eyes are bright blue under thefluorescent lights. He seems taller than usual. Maybe because I’ve raised him to hero status.

I spit it out. “Thank you for helping me, and I’m sorry.”

He cocks his head, regarding me thoughtfully, and I can’t help but look at those lips that kissed my neck so softly. The memory makes me jittery and nervous.

“Your mom’s cool,” he says.

Weird. Such a clash of my worlds. I survey him, and he stands there and lets me.

“Joel, were you high when you...” I touch my neck.

His lips tighten. “I haven’t been high in seven months, not since my brother was thrown in prison for dealing. And you think I’d drive your mom’s car while I was high? Come on now.”

“Oh. No, I’m sorry.” I just can’t figure out why he said and did what he did at the party when he doesn’t seem interested any other time. And, wait, his brother was a dealer? So that’s where the rumors come from.