Kiss with Cherry Flavor (Grover Beach #4) Read Online Free PDF Page A

stomach , just like yesterday. I wanted to ask him why—and when—he’d done it, but in the end, I didn’t press for details because he smirked at me, swept his arm in the direction of his desk at the back, and said, “After you, Summers.”
    I sat down in the seat next to Tony, which William Banes usually occupied, and placed my sketchpad blank side up on the desk. “You want to go first?”
    “No, you start.” Tony leaned back in his chair, laced his fingers behind his head, and rocked on two legs. “Let’s see if you can break your dimple addiction.” He winked and then one corner of his mouth tilted up, producing that adorable pit in his cheek.
    I propped myself on my elbows, leaning toward him, and lifted my brows. “I can’t draw you without a dimple if you smile like that.”
    Tony looked slightly confused, but his friendly expression remained. “I’m not smiling.”
    “Maybe not intentionally, but you are.” I started outlining the features of his face, trying to remember some advice from the information he’d sent me last night.
    He cleared his throat, and when I looked up next, the dimples were gone, together with his smile. In fact, he looked a little sullen, and I wondered if he was biting the inside of his cheek to keep a sober expression.
    Twenty minutes flew by like seconds. It was far too short a time to draw a true-to-life portrait. But I was content with the sketch of Tony I had in the end. When I showed it to him, he didn’t even complain that I ’d drawn him with dimples and a smile after all. It actually made the corners of his lips ride upward again. Obviously, he liked how I saw him.
    “Your turn,” I prompted and made myself comfortable, pulling one knee to my chest and placing the heel of my boot on the chair. I folded my arms over my knee and rested my chin on the crook of my elbow.
    He looked gorgeous concentrating while his eyes switched back and forth between his drawing and my face. His mouth became a thin line. Sometimes he even chewed on his bottom lip. But during those rare seconds when he locked gazes with me, his expression softened and my heart fluttered.
    From the movement of his hand, I could tell when he was finished and writing something on the drawing. His signature, I assumed.
    “Can I see it?” I asked when the bell rang. There was no more time to show our pictures to the teacher or discuss them with the rest of the class.
    Tony ripped the paper out of the sketchpad and handed it over, upside down. “You can keep it,” he told me with a warm smile, then he picked up his backpack and left.
    I gazed after him until he was out of the classroom, totally bewildered by his checkered behavior. Shaking my head at myself, I turned the sketch over.
    My breath caught in my chest. Dear Mary, what had he done? I saw the exact likeness every day in the mirror, but there was something about this drawing that brought out a beauty I hadn’t seen in myself before. It seemed like Tony had captured a very obvious and very raw emotion I couldn’t quite place.
    Then my glance fell on the line he’d scribbled where his signature would normally go.
    This is your ‘I’m in love with you’ look.
    My palms turned sweaty where they lay on the desk and a rush of blood shot to my face. Right now I was more than happy Tony had already left, so he couldn’t see me baffled like this. Was it really that obvious? In my look? Oh my God. If I’d gazed at him like this yesterday, no wonder he’d thought I was waiting for him to kiss me. It was there, written all over my face.
    Gah ! I clapped my hands over my mouth, cutting a glance at the ceiling. This was spinning out of control. I didn’t want to be in love with Tony Mitchell. Not when the feeling was one way.
    Where the heck was the off switch?
    I tucked my stuff into my schoolbag and walked home, wishing I could bang my head against a wall to rid my mind of Tony. What I needed was a distraction, so I danced away the afternoon in my