A/N: Sorry I took an unbelievably long time posting this chapter; it's amazing how busy my senior year of high school can get, especially since I have such little motivation to do anything. Anyway, this chapter is by far the longest, so hopefully that makes up for it a little bit. Regardless, happy reading and thank you so much for your patience!


The déjà vu was almost enough to slay me as I found myself tearing Jude away from Jonesy again. I waited next to the fountain and watched while Jonesy snuck into the rent-a-cop's office, Jude keeping watch from the outside. Jonesy pulled what looked to be a screwdriver out of his pocket and quickly loosened a few of the bolts on the rent-a-cop's swivel chair. Both Jude and Jonesy were a giggling mess as we waited by the fountain until the mall cop came back to his office.

We were some distance away from his office, but we were still close enough to see the events unfold. As always, the mall cop's expression was somber and controlled, as if his duties at the Galleria Mall were as dire as those in the armed forces. He calmly bent down to sit in his chair when the seat gave out from beneath him. His face contorted in shock as he tumbled to the ground, the top part of the chair completely disconnected from the wheeled bottom. He recovered quickly and looked in our direction with a seething glare. Jude and Jonesy were too busy laughing to notice.

"Dude, that was sick!" I'd never heard Jude laugh so hard before. He must've really liked getting on the rent-a-cop's nerves.

"I got the idea from Mariquita here," he replied as he nudged my arm. "Some kid in school pulled it on a substitute once, right?"

"Yeah," I nodded as I reminisced my freshman days. "Ninth grade, Chemistry. The sub had left the room to call security so someone could go to the bathroom, since we weren't allowed to have a sub sign our hall passes. She was a big lady, too."

"Must've been pretty awesome," Jude commented after the wave of laughter had subsided.

I shrugged with a smile. It was relatively funny at the time, but the angry note the substitute left our teacher, Mr. Wilkins, was another story. The next day, Mr. Wilkins' voice nearly ruptured my eardrums. I haven't been able to hear the same since.

"Anyway, something tells me you didn't come all the way over here just to watch us prank the rent-a-cop." I braced myself for Jonesy's reference to my zamboni ride—I knew he saw me—but luckily, he avoided the topic. "Does Jude have another appointment with you?"

I didn't even need to open my mouth; Jude stole the words right off my tongue, only with much more excitement. "Oh, man! Your skating lesson!"

"You guys still haven't gotten to that? Mariquita could've gone pro already." Good to know Caitlin wasn't the only one who thought we were wasting time.

Jude hurriedly grabbed the boards, which were leaning against the fountain, and handed me George. "We've gotta get to it right now."

He quickly seized my wrist and tugged me along, leading me again in an obscure direction like some kind of leashed puppy. Not that I'm complaining about the contact—he had really soft hands.


"Where are we?" I knew we were in the mall . . . well, maybe not the Galleria Mall, but definitely a mall. There were plenty of nondescript shoppers scurrying to dozens of nondescript stores, drinking lemonade from a nondescript food court . . . which was somewhere in the near distance, judging from the scent of freshly cooked pizza. There were plenty of benches and fake fichu (a.k.a., more than one fichus) to turn the place into an artificial park. Still, none of that helped me identify where in God's name Jude had taken me.

"The mall, third floor." That explained it. I'd never ventured past the second floor; the Big Squeeze had been on the first floor, and the Slush Shop on the second. I didn't get much roaming time between shifts, so the rest of the mall was pretty much a mystery.

"Isn't this place kind of . . . crowded?" I asked cautiously while scoping the place out. Before Jude had a chance to answer, a lady with a stroller wide enough to hold quadruplets nearly took me out. Fortunately, I jumped out of the way just in time.

"Yeah, but we're almost to the deserted end of the mall." He began walking forward and motioned for me to follow. I nodded and took a few steps before being lost in a sea of people. When the traffic died down and I finally found Jude, I latched onto his wrist.

Upon arriving at our final destination, I realized Jude wasn't kidding when he called the place "deserted." There must've been two functioning stores and ten for rent, and the only reason people even ventured down there was to check the directory. Once the lost shoppers found the place they actually wanted to be, they ran off and never looked back. Their fright was perfectly understandable; I wouldn't want to be anywhere near me with a skateboard, either.

All kidding aside, it was an ideal place for skating. The fichus pots and benches provided makeshift rails, and the low circulation of traffic meant less unwanted obstacles. The rent-a-cop didn't seem to monitor the place too closely, either, so there wasn't much risk of getting a ticket for "unlawful skating." Not to mention the skate park was almost always crowded with people who actually knew how to skate, so by Jude taking me someplace else, he was inadvertently saving dozens of lives.

"Now, down to business," Jude announced, breaking me from my usual daydreaming. "Before you step foot on a board, we need to work on your stance."

After a few tests, he decided that I was "regular," as opposed to "goofy" (apparently, it has to do with the way you stand on the skateboard). He was regular, too, so the idea was it'd be easier for him to teach me . . . but that's assuming I'd be able to grasp even the slightest amount of information. Then, he said we needed to find my center of balance . . . at which point I began to freak as horrible memories of yoga class came flooding back.

"I really don't think that's a good idea," I tried reasoning with him for his own sake. "The last time someone tried to help me balance, she had a nervous breakdown." Poor yoga instructor.

"No worries. It takes a lot to harsh my mellow—and besides, if you don't learn how to balance, you'll never be able to skate."

In that case, you might as well call it quits right now, I thought to myself, even though I knew that wasn't possible. I'd gotten myself into this situation, and there was no dignified way out of it. I took a final deep breath, forced back the tears, and said, "Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you."


"Like this?" I felt so awkward, with my left foot near the nose of the board and my right foot planted firmly on the ground. I tried keeping my knees as rigid as possible, to lessen the chance that I'd slide away.

"Perfecto, dudette," Jude encouraged with a smile, framing me with his hands the way a director does before shooting a scene in a film. "Now, gain some speed by gaining ground. Push off with your right foot a few times, and then let it join your left foot on the board."

I blanched. "I have to move?"

He quirked an eyebrow and gave me a peculiar look. " . . . Yeah. You're not really skating until you feel that rush."

I probably didn't want to know, but . . . "What rush?"

"Oh, yeah," he crooned with a wistful grin and hazy eyes. "That fluttery feeling in the pit of your stomach, the rush of adrenaline as the blood pushes faster through your veins, the lightheaded ecstasy as you lift off the ground and go flying like a bird on wheels through the air. It's amazing."

"You really love skating." That guilty feeling was beginning to return. "What if I don't get that rush?"

"Then it just wasn't meant to be," he shrugged. Then, he flashed a grin. "But you'll never know until you try."

You're probably expecting me to come up with some other insane excuse as to why I can't go through with this, but surprisingly, I decided to face my fears. I owed it to Jude to give it a shot—after all, he'd wasted a whole day with me, and he'd never get those hours back. Might as well make the time spent worthwhile, right?

"Okay, I'll do it."

There went that irresistible smile again. "Awesome! Just skate down to me, and remember what I told you." With that, he ran about five stores' length from me and stood beside a fichus. He gave me two thumbs up, which I took as an equivalent to "all systems go."

I took one last deep breath and relaxed my knees. "Here goes nothing."

I pushed off the linoleum with my right foot and began moving a few inches. I pushed off again . . . and again . . . and again until I could feel a slight gust of air beginning to brush my bangs across my forehead. Just to be safe, I tried not to focus on how fast I was going, but I couldn't help but notice as the world around me began to blur. Cautiously, I turned my body and brought my right foot up next to my left, both of my feet now perpendicular to the board. I held my arms out instinctively and focused on keeping my center, all while fervently asking God to keep my face from becoming part of the floor. All in all, the entire process was quite complicated and required a lot of begging and pleading with the higher power.

Of course, due to a true stroke of genius, I closed my eyes while I implored for my face's safety—which left me unable to see how fast I was gaining on Jude. It wasn't until I was mere inches from colliding that I opened my eyes, at which point any attempt at retreat would be useless. So, I simply cringed and braced for impact.

Not even a second later was I lying on top of Jude. My board had skidded across the floor and lied with the underside facing the ceiling, its wheels still turning like crazy. I was almost too embarrassed to look at him, but considering the full-on contact currently going on between us, I didn't really have a choice. Luckily, Jude didn't seem annoyed that I'd used him as a landing strip; in fact, he had the goofiest smile on his face.

I ignored it—mostly because it confused me—and focused on the situation at hand. "Sorry. I didn't know how to stop."

"It's all good, dudette. Now we're even."

That's right . . . he crashed right into me the day I'd met him, and he'd been on his skateboard. Of course, I hadn't really minded that time, and I could only imagine the discomfort Jude was experiencing, the full weight of my body crushing him like a bag of cinderblocks.

Still, the boy smiled. "Besides, no one sticks the landing on their first try. It took me a while before I could stop without falling on my face—and I still do that sometimes."

At this point, I was beginning to enjoy being close to him a bit too much. After rising to my feet and helping Jude rise to his, I walked over to George and reclaimed the board. Surprisingly, I hadn't even left a scratch.

"I didn't do as badly as I thought I would," I said under my breath.

I guess that was still loud enough for Jude to hear me. "You didn't do badly at all, dudette. You're a natural."

Me, good at something involving athletics? The same girl who broke her ankle walking across a padded floor and consistently trips over air—yes, that girl apparently has a knack for skateboarding. I guess even complete klutzes get lucky sometimes.


Jude and I spent a good while longer skateboarding, which involved an equal amount of me watching him do something seemingly impossible and me trying to imitate it. My backside was beginning to grow sore from landing on it so many times, but Jude kept assuring me that repetition is the key to success (and it was only my first official day of practice). He even managed to catch me a few times, although those rescues were too few and far between. Luckily, my butt cheeks had remained delightfully bruise-free when I checked later that night. Then again, there's more than enough padding to go around.

Anyway, back to more pressing issues. Throughout our skating rendezvous, I forgot that Caitlin was conducting surveillance on my pathetic excuse for a social life. I finally remembered when I flipped my board (and myself) while trying to avoid a runaway plastic lemon from one of the surrounding stores. I quickly scanned the surrounding fichu and benches, but she was nowhere to be seen. The stores were involved with the retail of plastic fruits, potpourri, and other quaint, obscure items, so I knew she wasn't off shopping. Hopefully, we hadn't lost her to Albatross and Finch on the way to the third floor.

Of course, there was only one way to find out. The only hard part would be breaking away from Jude long enough to talk to Caitlin alone at the Big Squeeze.


Thankfully, Jude had to return to the ice rink to make sure the ice hadn't cracked in his absence, and even though his offer of riding on the zamboni again was inviting, I turned him down. I desperately needed to know Caitlin's relationship advice; all of this platonic time spent with Jude was beginning to wear on me.

When I was close enough to see the gargantuan lemon, I noticed Wyatt was sipping a coffee while relaxing at the table in front of the Big Squeeze. While I hadn't really expected to divulge of Caitlin's guru-like knowledge in his presence, it didn't bother me either. After all, it wasn't like Wyatt didn't know what was going on.

"Hey guys," I greeted casually as I made my way to the counter. Caitlin was busy checking herself out in her compact's mirror.

"Oh, hi, Marisol." She quickly snapped the compact shut and shoved it into her purse, which remained hidden below the counter. "I thought you'd still be out learning to skate with Jude."

"He's teaching you to skateboard—and you haven't been seriously injured?" Wyatt sighed and rubbed the left side of his head, as if trying to soothe a phantom bruise. "Must be nice being so lucky."

"Oh, it wasn't all luck," Caitlin cut in. "Jude kept trying to catch her, and he actually did a few times. It was really cute."

"So you were watching us." I furrowed my brow. "I tried looking for you, but I couldn't find you anywhere."

"I've been doing this sort of thing for a while. I'm practically a professional at camouflage," she explained casually. "Anyway, I watched you guys for a while, but I decided to come back here once I'd collected enough evidence to determine your current situation."

"And that would be . . . ?"

"Oh, he's totally into you." Caitlin pulled out one of her illustrious issues of CosmoGirl and flipped it to an article outlining the many complexities of high school relationships. "He's sent you practically every sign in the book, besides actually asking you out."

I wanted to believe her, but something just didn't sound right. "If he's been sending me so many signs, why haven't I picked up on them?"

"You're probably not used to reading body language. Besides, you've been out of the dating scene for a while, so you might've gotten rusty." She looked up from her magazine and scanned my face for something, then darted her eyes back down to the sacred dating text. "If you don't believe me, there's a whole list of things he's been doing that I could read off for you."

"Works for me."

"Okay . . . well, for one, he couldn't stop smiling around you. And he didn't get distracted at all—all of his attention was focused on you." She shot me a glance to see if she'd convinced me yet, but I still wanted more proof. "He also used practically any excuse to touch you, like grabbing your hand when he led you to the third floor and holding your waist while you tried balancing on the skateboard the first time."

"He was just trying to make sure I didn't fall over," I protested. I looked to Wyatt for backup. "You said he taught you to skateboard. Didn't he help you find your center and correct your stance?"

" . . . No. He had me ride down the railing of the escalator, and after I regained consciousness, he went over everything with a bunch of diagrams." Wyatt leaned back and took another swig of his piping hot caffeine fix. "I definitely think you've got Jude hooked. When he walked by me earlier, instead of that usual lingering odor, I got a whiff of cologne."

Caitlin gasped. "Was it Intense Heat by Calvin Stein?"

"Yeah. That stuff's pretty powerful; if you use more than one spritz, you end up smelling like you bathed in it."

"Oh, this is serious." Caitlin dismissed CosmoGirl, threw off her apron and hat, and clamped the top of the lemon shut before reappearing beside me. "Jude's version of hygiene is using deodorant every day and showering whenever his mom starts to complain about it. If he's trying to smell nice for you, not only does he really like you, but he's also getting help from an outside source. Intense Heat is known for its scientifically-proven hypnotic powers, and only someone with experience would think to use that on you."

"Both of you should just admit to being into each other," Wyatt commented as he rose from his seat, his coffee cup now weightless and empty. "If you don't have a date with Jude by closing, I'm asking him out for you."

"Oh, she'll have a date, because she's going to the ice rink and asking him right now," Caitlin nonchalantly responded as she slung her purse's strap over her shoulder.

"I am?" It's strange how other people usually end up making decisions for me, without consulting me first.

"Yes, you are. In the meantime, the Khaki Barn is having a 15-percent off sale on all miniskirts and tank tops."

"I need to get back to work, anyway. Unfortunately, burgers don't flip themselves," Wyatt sighed, and just like that, I was alone in front of the Big Squeeze.

My head was swimming in a sea of advice and orders from my blonde, fashion-conscious, expert shopper friend who also doubled as a love consultant. Luckily, I was able to paddle against the stubborn riptide and push the final few frothy waves from the forefront of my mind just in time to start heading toward the ice rink. Nothing was going to stop me now—not even that bubbly feeling in the pit of my stomach.