Zoey Speaks Out (Making Out Series #18)

Chapter One

Zoey's eyes fluttered as she slowly came out of a deep sleep, with a dream of Lucas's good-night kiss still tingling on her lips. She sighed contentedly and rolled over in bed.

What a night, she thought. She blinked at the sunlight streaming through her dormered window. A perfect way to end a perfect senior prom.

Well, not quite perfect.

Zoey sat up in bed and stretched with a rueful grin. No, until the very moment Lucas had taken her into his arms on the dance floor, she'd been dreading the senior prom. She'd resigned herself to a totally disastrous night—on the one occasion that teenagers were supposed to remember forever, the most magical night of high school.

But in the end, it had been magical.

How was it that Lucas always found some way to make her forgive him?

He didn't even need to say anything. Zoey pursed her lips. All he needed to do was look at her with those soft brown eyes, and hold her, and bring his lips to hers ....

I'm pathetic, she said to herself. She hopped out of bed and slipped into a pair of sweatpants, then gathered her dark blond hair in a ponytail. It was almost funny how spineless she was. After all, Lucas had violated her trust in the most base, childlike way: He had sneaked a peek at her diary. And then, as if that wasn't bad enough, he had stolen a story out of her notebook and published it in Folio, an eight-page photocopied pamphlet distributed monthly to students and teachers at Weymouth High.

For a moment Zoey stood still. She was supposed to feel outraged, right? She tried to summon all the anger and indignation she'd initiallyfelt—and ended up smiling instead. It was hopeless. No matter how badly they fought, she couldn't stay mad at him—

The phone started ringing.

Speak of the devil, she thought. She trotted downstairs to the kitchen. Knowing Lucas, he was probably calling to suggest that they start the day where they had left off the night before—namely in the throes of a passionate make-out session.

She grabbed the receiver off the phone on the kitchen wall in the middle of the third ring. "Hello?" she asked, her voice still hoarse from sleep.

"Zoey—what am I going to do?" Aisha Gray cried at the other end.

Zoey frowned. So much for a romantic wake-up call.

"Good morning to you, too, Eesh," Zoey said dryly. "I'm fine. Thanks for asking."

"I'm in no mood for jokes, Zo," Aisha snapped. "I need help. Now."

Zoey sighed, then slumped down at the kitchen table. "I know. Believe me, I know."

Unlike Zoey's prom, Aisha's had been an absolute catastrophe. And as far as Zoey could tell, the problem could have been easily avoided.

It all started when Aisha agreed to go to the prom with David Barnes. But then Christopher Shupethe love of Aisha's life, the man who had asked for her hand in marriage-showed up unexpectedly on Chatham Island. So Aisha promptly asked him to the prom. Instead of accepting the fact that this was a terrible error in judgment, Aisha let Claire Geiger talk her into some harebrained scheme that was supposed to enable her to go to the prom with both of them. Needless to say, the plan had failed. Aisha's prom ended with both David and Christopher storming out.

"Well?" Aisha demanded. "Any suggestions?"

"Actually, yeah," Zoey replied. "Never follow Claire's advice again."

There was a pause, then Aisha laughed miserably. "Thanks," she mumbled. "I could have figured that one out for myself. What was I thinking?"

"You're asking me?" Zoey shook her head. "I have no idea what you were thinking. I tried telling you that it would never work. It was doomed from the start."

"I know, I know," Aisha moaned. "I mean, I still can't believe I did that. I can't believe I actually told David that Christopher was my cousin."

Zoey fiddled with the phone cord. She couldn't believe it, either—but she didn't want to make Aisha feel any worse by agreeing with her. "Uh . . . have you heard from either of them yet?"

"Are you kidding? Neither of them wants anything to do with me. Not that I can blame them."

"Have you thought about calling them?" Zoey asked quietly.

"Sure, I've thought about it. I'm just not looking forward to having the phone slammed down in my ear twice in one day."

Zoey sighed. "Eesh—you're going to have to make a decision. You're going to have to decide between them. The sooner the better."

Aisha laughed again—a short, bitter laugh. "Hate to tell you this, Zo, but I don't think I'm in any position to make that kind of decision anymore. Neither of them wants to talk to me, remember?"

"That may be true right now, but it's definitely not true in the long run. Trust me. I know. They're both hurt and confused right now. You've got to clear it up. You've got to tell David that Christopher is the one you really love. That way, it'll—"

"Wait a sec, Zo," Aisha interrupted. "Who said that Christopher is the one I really love?"

Zoey bit her lip. Oops. The truth was that Zoey hoped Aisha would choose Christopher. She just couldn't see it working out any other way. What Eesh had with Christopher was so perfect, so romantic ....

"You're just saying that because you don't like David," Aisha said.

"That's not true." It wasn't that Zoey didn't like David; she just didn't know him. And although she would never tell Aisha, she wasn't all that impressed with him. He was nice and funny and cute—but he was no Christopher Shupe.

"And you know what really makes me mad?" Aisha asked after a moment. She sighed loudly. "You're right."