Steering the Stars (18 page)

     
 
“And?”

     
 
“Isn’t it a little late for dessert?”

     
 
“Coming from the girl who eats her dessert first?”

     
 
“I do, but not at bedtime,” I pointed out before realizing how incredibly lame I sounded talking about
bedtime
like I was eight years old.

     
 
“You should live a little, Care.”

     
 
“You sound like Hannah.”  

     
 
“She is my sister,” he said then gestured to the door. “So are you going to let me in or—?”

     
 
“Oh, yeah, duh,” I answered and opened the door wide enough so that he could get past Aspen and me. “Sorry. Come on in.”

     
 
“Nice shirt,” he said with a wink as he slipped by.

      
 
I looked down and realized that in my panic, I had grabbed his sweatshirt—the one he let me borrow the first day of school.

     
 
“Oh my God... yeah, I meant to return it to you but…” I knew my entire face was turning crimson—the curse of redheads everywhere. “It’s just… the sweatshirt is really comfy. But I can take it off—I mean, not
right
now because I only have a sports bra underneath and that would be... awkward,” I rambled on. “What I meant was that I can go upstairs to my room and change into something else. It’s not like I was offering to strip or anything like that.”

     
 
This was worse than messing up my lines on stage. Even Aspen looked like she was embarrassed for me.

       Henry held up a hand and laughed good-naturedly. “Care, stop it. You can keep the sweatshirt.”

       “No—I couldn’t. That’s...”

       “I have like ten more at home,” he said before adding, “Besides, it looks good on you. Better than it does on me.”

       “Okay.” I let out a gush of air but it did nothing to lessen the heat in my cheeks.

       We stood there for a minute just looking at each other. Finally, Aspen nosed Henry’s leg.

     
 
“I think she wants you to pet her,” I whispered to him.

     
 
He balanced the two bags of groceries on one hip and reached down to rub behind Aspen’s ears. She kicked her back leg against the wood floors and let her tongue loll out the side of her mouth.

       We both laughed.

       “So, cookies?” I asked again.

       “Yeah.”

       “You know my house is kind of…”

       “Kind of what?”

        “Undone,” I said, biting my lip.

      
 
Henry looked over the peeling wallpaper and at the half-finished wall separating the dining room and sun porch. “I like works in progress.”

     
 
“As long as you understand that you’ve been warned,” I said as I led him down a narrow hall to the kitchen.

     
 
He set the bags down on the counter, and I helped him unload the ingredients.

     
 
Right away it was obvious there was way too much. We could easily be baking chocolate chip cookies all night if we attempted to use this up. There were three good-sized bags of flour and sugar, two cartons of eggs, eight sticks of butter, chocolate chips, a giant can of baking powder, baking soda, and a bunch of other random ingredients not even needed for the recipe, like cinnamon, almond bark, marshmallows, and a lone can of cream cheese frosting.  

     
 
“Um, wow,” I remarked, taking it all in. “Hungry?”

       Henry stopped what he was doing and turned to me. “What?”

       I pointed. “All this food.”

       He looked confused. “Did I do it wrong? I checked the recipe on my phone.”

       “And then multiplied by twenty?” I guessed. “This is enough to feed the entire football team. Is there something you want to tell me?”

       “Like what?”

       “Are you high?”

       He laughed and I thought I could hear a hint of embarrassment. “I wanted to be sure that I got all you needed.”

      I smiled. “So you just grabbed a little of everything? Even if it wasn’t part of the recipe?”

      
 
“Pretty much,” he said.

       “The almond bark?”

     
 
He paused long enough to look at me. “You never know.”

       “Marshmallows?”

      
 
“Maybe we’ll make cookie s’mores.”

       “And the frosting?”

       “Have you had chocolate chip cookies dipped in frosting before?”

       I shook my head. “No.”

     
 
He picked up the can of frosting and took a step toward me. “Care, remember what I said? You’ve got to live—”

       “A little,” I finished for him. “I know I do. And that’s what I’ve been trying to do lately.”

       A slow smile took over the bottom half of his face. “I’ve noticed.”

       “You have?” I pressed my back against the countertop and squeezed my fingers into a fist. Gah, why did Henry have to look like that when he smiled?

       He nodded. “Of course I have.”

       But only because I’m like a little sister.
“Because you’re watching out for me with Hannah gone?”

       Henry opened his mouth but before he got anything out, my phone beeped.

       It was on the opposite side of the kitchen, near the back door. I must have left it there when I’d gotten home. I ran over and scooped the phone up so I could check the incoming messages. Sure enough, there was a new one from my bestie.

Jellybean08: Hey chica! Are you online? I have to talk you about something…

     
 
I glanced across the room at Henry. He was trying to look busy, opening packs of butter and rearranging the baking stuff, but I could tell that he was paying attention to what I was doing. I typed out a quick response.

CareBear16: Sorta but someone is over so I can’t really talk right now.

Jellybean08: Okay, well maybe later?

CareBear16: Sure.

      
 
I set my phone down but right away, it beeped again.

Jellybean08: Wait
.
Who’s over? Isn’t it like 9PM there? That’s past your bedtime.

     
 
Crap. What should I say? I didn’t want to lie, but I seriously did not feel like explaining that her brother had stopped by on a Friday night. To make chocolate chip cookies with me. It was just too weird.

       The phone buzzed again.

Jellybean08: Care?

     
 
I rolled my eyes as more messages scrolled across my phone screen.

Jellybean08: Is it a BOY?!?

Jellybean08: OMG!

Jellybean08: Caroline Blair McKain, you better answer me!

Jellybean08: Fine. Ignore me all you want but just know you can’t run forever. I’m onto you…

     
 
“Um? Is everything okay?”

       Startled, I looked up and saw Henry had walked over to me. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

       “Who’s blowing up your phone?” he asked.

       “Guess.”

       “Hannah?”

     
 
“Ding, ding, ding,” I said. I silenced the phone and put it down.

     
 
“Oh.” He turned his body away like maybe he was uncomfortable. “Did you tell her I was here?”

     
 
I hesitated before answering. “No, I didn’t actually.”

     
 
“Hmm,” he said with a small nod.

      
 
Hmmmm?
What the heck did that mean?

     
 
“Is that weird?” I asked uncertainly.

     
 
He didn’t answer me right away so I went over to the cabinets to find the measuring cups and mixing bowl we would need to make the cookies.

      
I
t was quiet in the kitchen. Too quiet. Henry still wasn’t answering.

       When I couldn’t take it anymore, I slammed a cabinet door shut and turned around. “I just don’t want her to get the wrong idea,” I blurted.

      
 
Henry folded his arms across his chest. “The wrong idea?”

      
 
“You know what I mean.”

      
 
He pulled his mouth to one side. “You mean about you and me?”

     
 
“Yes…” I glanced up at the cracked ceiling tiles of my falling down house. “I just don’t want your sister to think something is happening behind her back while she’s away.”

     
 
“Care, nothing is happening behind anyone’s back,” he said. “We’re just two people who share a love of baked goods.”

     
 
I laughed in relief and met his eyes.

     
 
“Just two people making cookies and watching a movie.”

     
 
I guffawed. “So now we’re watching a movie too?”

     
 
“And, if I remember correctly, the last time you were at the house, you and Hannah made me watch
Pitch Perfect.
That means it’s my turn to pick.” He smiled mischievously.

     
 
“Gah!” I carried the bowl and measuring cups over toward the ingredients. “And what atrocity are you going to force me to watch this time?”

       “My laptop’s in the car and I’ve got
Saw
on there and the latest season of
American Horror Story.”

     
 
I measured out four cups of flour. “You’re crazy if you think I’m going to watch anything scary with my dad out of town. Are you even in my house right now?”

     
 
Henry glanced around. “What do you mean?”

     
 
“I practically live on the set of a slasher film.”

     
 
He laughed. “I hadn’t thought of it like that.” After I cracked the eggs is a separate bowl and combined them with the softened butter, he said, “Fine, you can pick tonight, but I get the next two turns.”

     
 
“You never like the kind of movies I like,” I reminded him. Henry and I were both huge movie buffs with wildly different tastes. It had sort of become our thing over the years to try to find a movie that we both liked. So far, it hadn’t happened yet.

     
 
“It’s bound to happen eventually. So what do you have in mind tonight?”

     
 
I pressed the rubber spatula into the butter to get it to flatten. “Hmm. What about
Say Anything
?”

     
 
“Never seen it.”

      
 
I dropped the spatula against the side of the bowl and looked at him. “Seriously?”

     
 
“Are you surprised?”

     
 
“That you missed one of the most important cinematic masterpieces of the 80s? Nope, not at all.” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes.

     
 
“‘Cinematic masterpieces’?”

     
 
“I mean, what kind of childhood did you have?”

     
 
“Apparently one that didn’t consist of bad 80s movies.”

     
 
“Hey!” I smacked him on the arm. “You know I’ve made your sister watch this movie like a million times.”

     
 
His smile was crooked. “I bet she fell asleep each and every time.”