Free Through to You by Lauren Barnholdt

that!” I say. I’m not sure why, but I don’t want Nico to know what’s going on. This is one of those times when the fact that he’s male definitely gets in the way of mebeing able to give him information. Plus, I’ve never been as close to Nico as Anna is. And I don’t think he should get secrets about me just because I’m telling them to Anna.
    â€œWhy not? It’s just Nico.”
    â€œBecause I don’t want him knowing everything.”
    â€œIt’s not like you and Penn are hooking up. Are you? Have you? Did you kiss him? Did he kiss you?”
    â€œNo!” I say. “It’s not . . . I mean, it’s not a date.” But suddenly I’m thinking about kissing him. He looks like he’d be a good kisser. Probably strong, but not too strong, with just the right amount of—
    The driver-side door opens, and I scream in surprise, then immediately fall over into the passenger seat.
    Penn is standing there. He looks down at me, my legs sprawled between the seats. He shakes his head. “Wow,” he says. “I leave you alone for one minute . . .”
    â€œUm, I gotta go,” I say to Anna, scrambling back over to my side of the car.
    â€œWhat?” she screeches. “Harper, you can’t just—”
    I hang up. I’m kind of humiliated. “Can I get in now?” Penn asks. He seems amused.
    â€œYes,” I say haughtily. “Of course you can get in.” I put my nose up in the air and roll my eyes, like he’s being ridiculous. Which he kind of is. This is his car. Of course he can get into his own car. He doesn’t have to ask my permission.
    â€œOkay, good,” he says. He flings the Whole Foods bags into the backseat. “Just didn’t know if you wanted to be alone.”
    My face is burning. God, he must think I’m a complete and total head case. “I’m fine.” I catch a glimpse of myself in the side mirror, and my face is still streaked with eyeliner. I reach up and rub it off. There’s no way I can fix it with Penn here, watching, so I’ll have to just deal with having raccoon eyes for now.
    â€œOkay.” He shrugs and puts the car into drive.
    He takes me to Schoner Park and parks near the swings, right on the lawn. It’s after nine o’clock now, and so the place is deserted.
    He pulls the bags of food out from the back of his car and sets them down on the hood of his truck.
    â€œYou’re going to be impressed,” he says, sounding proud of himself.
    â€œReally? Why?”
    â€œWell,” he says, “you probably have this impression of me. You know, that I’m just some jock ballplayer who knows nothing about anything else.”
    â€œI don’t really have any impression of you, except for that maybe you’re a stalker.”
    â€œA stalker?”
    â€œYeah, like how you showed up at my work and stalked me.”
    He shakes his head. “I don’t stalk.”
    â€œWhatever.”
    We hoist ourselves onto the hood of the truck, and Penn reaches into the bags and starts laying out the food he bought.I have to say that he was right—it is impressive. Stone-ground wheat pepper crackers, cut up strawberries and honeydew, goat cheese, fig and walnut spread, and two tiny plastic containers filled with bow tie pasta salad.
    He hands me a plastic fork, and as he does, his hand brushes against mine.
    â€œThanks.” Goose bumps fly up my skin.
    â€œYou’re welcome.” All trace of the teasing he was doing before is gone, and now he just sounds . . . I don’t know, sort of serious and sort of sexy at the same time.
    I grab the crackers and start to open the box. Inside there are two sleeves, and my fingers fumble around the plastic. When I finally get them open, I realize there’s nowhere to put them, so I pull a few out and lay them down on the cracker box.
    â€œSo,” I say. The