Page 72 of TJ Powar Has Something to Prove
“Wow. Very ethical, Mr. Student President.” She shakes her head, drifting closer to lean her arms on the railing. “If I went to Whitewater, I would actively vote against you.”
That makes him grin. “But what if I did something for you?” Her mind goes to all sorts of imaginative places, but he’s clearly not as deep in the gutter. “I could get more travel funding for the soccer team.”
“That makes it even worse. You’re just another corrupt politician.”
His politician’s smile widens further. TJ looks away and forcibly reminds herself of his disgusted expression at her stomach back in Whitewater’s library. It’s so frustrating—how easily sheforgetsher reasons to stay away from him, the moment he simply stands next to her.
Irritated, she pushes her hand through her hair. But her fingers snag on a piece of Silly String. She’s not sure how it gotthere. Probably from one of her overenthusiastic classmates.
Then Charlie’s hand wraps around hers, nudging it away, and she lets him gently pry the goop out of her hair. Her legs turn to jelly, at least until he says, “Just a tip, point the nozzle away from yourself when you’re spraying.”
“It wasn’tme, you dick.”
He laughs and drops the string into the ocean below them. That’s when she notices—a bit of a hush around them. Like the background conversations have petered out. She peeks behind them, and there’s Liam. He’s standing not too far away, with some of his friends. And he’s staring at them.
Realization dawns. Charlie’s standing rather close. He just put his hand in her hair. To anyone watching, it might’ve looked like something was... happening.
Liam’s humiliating advice from earlier pulses through her head.I know I was your first boyfriend.No one’sgoing to be into you when you look like that.
Thegallof it—to assume that just because he found her gross, everyone else would. Doesn’t matter that he’s right. It’s the cockiness of it. Like he owns her. He thinks he’s the only one who’s known her so intimately.
Charlie’s fingers tap a pattern on the railing, right next to her hand. An idea forms.
He was so supportive of her resolution to prove herself respect-worthy. Doesn’t matter if she’s too hairy for him; he could fake it. She could explain afterwards. But how to get that across to Charlie?
Just like this: “Hey, remember when we kissed?”
His fingers still. Then resume their pattern. “Am I supposed to pretend I don’t?”
“Well, I need you to kiss me again. Right now.”
His hand slides off the railing entirely.“What?”
“Do I have to ask twice?” she mutters, flustered now but unable to back out. Is he really that repulsed by the idea? Meanwhile, Liam’s drawing closer. Soon he’ll be able to hear the conversation. “Just a quick one, promise. I’ll explain after.”
Charlie seems to hear the plea in her voice. His lashes sweep down, considering her mouth. “And you callmeweird.”
She glares. “You know, I’m starting to think Brandon Fletcher was onto something—”
But he leans in and presses his lips to hers, right there on deck, in clear view of everybody, Northridgers and White-waterians alike.
It starts out chaste. His hands circle her waist politely. Good. She doesn’t want to overdo this, or make it look like they’re trying too hard.
Except her heart still rapidly swells and rises in her chest like a balloon, giddy with his touch, his proximity. Her hand slides up his chest until it reaches his sternum, where she grasps at empty air and only then does she realize she was searching for a tie.
Their lips part and linger, and she feels his shoulders shake. He’s laughing. At her. To shut him up, she grips the back of his neck, nails digging in, and hauls him back to her. His mouth is still open mid-laugh, so, yeah, maybe she puts a little tongue into it. Buthe’sthe one who escalates it, instantly, as if he’sbeen waiting for this exact moment. His kisses become deep and scorching and all-consuming, to the point where she’s just holding on for dear life, and her whole universe seems narrowed down to where their mouths are meeting, again, and again.
A wolf whistle is what breaks them apart, and people laughing. TJ pivots half-around, passing her free hand shakily over her mouth. People are staring. Liam included, his jaw slack. Mission accomplished.
She should feel victorious, but it’s hard when her legs are on the verge of collapse.
“TJ,” Charlie says, a question in his voice. She whips back around to look at him, to realize she’s still gripping his shirtfront. She lets go and lowers her voice to a whisper.
“Where can we talk?”
“Follow me.”
She trails behind him. When he takes her down a set of stairs, belowdecks, she thinks they must be headed for the living quarters, but then they hear laughter from farther down that hall.