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Anyway,
Tara eventually found him more attractive than he already is. By
now she had her head rested on his shoulders. The heat of the
bonfire (or maybe it was the view) dried out my throat so I headed
to the cooler. All I found inside were cans of Heineken beer. I put
the lid back on and lazily walked to the minivan, were I was
keeping another cooler with root beers in it.
    The cooler was buried in a pile inside
the minivan so I have to put myself partly inside. I finally found
the cooler when suddenly, someone grabbed my leg. Acting on
instinct, I kicked my leg and hit whoever it was squarely on the
jaw. The person moaned and backed away a little. I saw the person's
identity through the light of the moon. I was not truly shocked
when I realized that it was Andrew.
    I stepped closer and tried to help by
checking if he had a broken jaw. "I am so sorry. You shouldn't have
surprised me like that. No broken bones, though." But I was not yet
taking my hands off his face. You know, if you really think about
it for a while, he is pretty good-looking. I have never seen eyes
like his. They were even bluer tonight, if that's
possible.
    He broke my stupid trance when he put
his surprisingly warm hands on mine. "Don't fall for me, Sherlock."
He said with a mocking smile. I shoved him and grabbed two cans of
Mugs from the cooler. I handed him a can and opened mine. I savored
the sweet smell and taste of root beer.
    "Why aren't you there by the bonfire?"
I asked him as I climbed the minivan's hood. Wesley and I do this
all the time when observing phenomena in the night sky like meteor
showers or such.
    He shrugged, climbed the hood and sat
next to me. "I just don't like it there."
    "Yeah," I sighed, "the view kinda
sucks."
    He chuckled and put his hands behind
his head as he leaned on the windshield. "You mean Jason
Bland?"
    "No." I glared at him angrily. I
supposed I was being too obvious. "Why does it always have to be
Jason?" I said quite frustratingly and leaned on the windshield
too.
    "Well, you had a crush on him since
third grade."
    "That is not true."
    "Oh yeah? You can't even say his name
without blushing."
    I sat up straight. "I can." I cleared
my throat. "Jason Bland. There."
    He too, sat up straight. "You're
blushing, Sherlock." He sounded so serious that I'm beginning to
wonder if I'm really that into Jason Bland. "I don't even know why
you liked him in the first place. He can't even spell Shakespeare,
you know."
    "You really think you know more about
me than I know about you?" I raised my left eyebrow at
him.
    He shifted a little, "Well, I know for
a fact that your middle name is Emerald. Because of your
eyes."
    "You just got lucky." And that was an
easy one, too. "Your middle name is Jet. Because of your jet black
hair."
    He clapped his hands as if he just won
a bet, "Nu-uh. I was name after my grandpa Jet, who served during
the Vietnam War."
    "No way."
    "Way. You can ask anybody. Everybody's
practically my stalker. Face it, Sherlock. You'll never top
me."
    "Whatever. I'm not listening. Blah blah
blah." I covered my ears with my hands.
    He chuckled and leaned back on the
windshield. He had one hand behind his back and the other stretched
freely behind me. "You knew that the moment you saw me adding in
the sandbox."
    "Remove your hand. I want to lie down
too." I told him but he pretended to fall asleep. I tried removing
his outstretched hand but we wouldn't budge. I stifled a yawn. My
watch says eleven in the evening. That is way past my bedtime. I'm
too drowsy to even set-up my tent. Screw that. I don't need a tent.
I had slept on the van's hood a number of times.
    "Suits me." I lied down on the
windshield anyhow, my head resting on Andrew's arm. This is the
closest we've been so far. "You'll wake up with an arm so sore you
can't even hold a stupid football." I told him and
giggled.
    He was still pretending to be asleep. I
was surprised when the arm I was resting on moved and pulled me
closer to him. I thought of struggling