Free Generation Dead by Daniel Waters

but to Pete, all of those factors were just part of the sweet secret that girls like this held, a sweet secret just waiting to be told to the whole world.
    "Hey," he repeated.
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    "Hey," she said, a hint of question in her voice. He liked that. And she was shy; her pale white skin was turning pink at her throat. He made a point of watching the color spread.
    "I saw you at practice yesterday," he said. If there was one thing that girls liked, it was to be noticed.
    "You did?"
    "Yeah, I did. I'd look up and there you were, watching us."
    "I was waiting," she said, "for Adam."
    Pete smiled inwardly to himself. Morticia was so far out of her league.
    "Layman? He's not your boyfriend, is he?"
    She laughed and shook her head, the pink glow hitting her cheeks. Her skin was the skin of angels, he thought, soft and white. He almost reached out to stroke her cheek, but he figured she'd spook. Soon.
    "That's good," he said, "because Adam's a good friend of mine, and I'd hate to have him mad at me."
    She stopped laughing. "Why would he be mad at you?"
    Now it was his turn to laugh, which he did as he leaned back in the creaky library chair, spreading his arms so she could catch the definition of his arms.
    "For asking you out."
    She looked back down at her history book. Pete leaned forward. Willowy girls liked big guys, and he was a big guy; he made the shadow of his shoulders fall across her like a blanket.
    "Because even if he was your boyfriend, I still would have asked you."
    She looked like she was having trouble catching her breath.
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    It made him think of other ways he could make her breathless.
    "I need to study," she said, her voice just above a whisper.
    You do, he thought. "So is that a yes?" he said, his hand drifting to her arm. She was wearing a light sweater, and he rubbed the black fabric bunched at her elbow with his thumb and forefinger. "I can drive you home if you like. I'll tell Layman we've made some plans. You've probably seen my car around."
    "No." Her voice was so soft he almost didn't hear it.
    "No, you haven't seen my car? It's the ..."
    "No," she said. "No, I don't want to go out with you."
    "What?"
    "No," she said again. "Please stop. People are looking at us." "I don't understand." He really didn't. "I don't want to go out with you, Pete. Thank you, but no." "Why not?" he said.
    "I just don't want to. Please let go of my sweater."
    He did, and leaned back, the chair groaning against his weight. First Layman cops a big attitude, and now this. Pete had been hiding his rage ever since his father packed him off to the airport without even dropping a dime to wish him a good flight, and now it threatened to erupt from his whole being.
    "T don't want to' isn't much of a reason, is it?" he said, his face close to hers.
    "It's the best reason," she said, and he was surprised at how poorly he'd misjudged her. "Can this conversation be over, please?"
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    Pete forced his hands to relax and pushed himself slowly back from the table.
    "Hey, I'm sorry," he said. "I thought I was picking up on something that I guess maybe I wasn't. I know I'm a little headstrong, probably because most of the girls I go out with like that. I'm sorry if I offended you."
    She softened, but only a little. "It's okay," she told him. "I'm sorry I didn't give you a more graceful answer. Really, I'm flattered."
    He gave a nod that he hoped made him appear wounded and crestfallen--as though he really cared what Scarypants thought of him. "Well, I didn't give you much of a chance, did I? Headstrong, that's me."
    She smiled. He held out his hand.
    "Friends?" he said.
    She looked at his hand, and then up at his face, and smiled. "Friends," she said, and held out her hand for him to take.
    He was planning on walking away. But something about the feel of her cool, slim hand in his changed everything. She had long, slender fingers, and he blinked and thought for a moment, just one moment, that he was holding Julie's hand. He hadn't had a relationship