Read Online The Oracle of Dating by Allison van Diepen - Free Book Online

best-smelling one.
    The bus starts with a jerk and whips around a corner. I have to clutch the seat in front of me so that I don’t slide into Jared’s lap. He takes out one of his earbuds. “Better get comfortable. It’s gonna be forty-five minutes at least.”
    “I’ll try, but if he makes a few more turns like that, it’ll be cozier than you bargained for.”
    “Oh, yeah?” I catch a flash of heat in his eyes.
    Oh. My. God. Without even meaning to, I just doveinto some heavy flirtation. And he sure as hell flirted back. There’s wickedness in his blue eyes, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s done it before. And if he has, if he’s good at it. And if he is, does he approach it the way he does his sketches, always looking for better techniques.
    His eyes rake over me, and my mouth is bone-dry. “Don’t you have an MP3?” he asks.
    “I usually don’t bring it to school.”
    “Too much talking with friends. No time for music.”
    “What are you listening to?”
    “Vengeance Against the Establishment.”
    I laugh. It comes out as a girlish giggle, unfortunately.
    “What’s so funny?”
    “It’s a classic name. I bet a band with a name like that has mass appeal, even if their gimmick is that they don’t care about the music industry. I’m not saying their music isn’t good.”
    “It is good. But I see what you mean. These guys are pretend anarchists. They say they don’t give a shit who they appeal to, and then they get all glammed up for Rolling Stone .”
    “Yeah, they speak out against the commercialization of music, but they’re not exactly shying away from the spotlight.”
    He stares at me for a few seconds. “I’m starting to think you’re as cynical as I am. That’s cool.”
    “So which are you? A pretend anarchist or a real one?”
    “I’m not an anything. I don’t buy into any belief system. These days my foster mom, Gina, is always begging me to go to mass with her. She just wants to confess her sins and get out of there. Tries to get me to confess, but I won’t. She’s the one who runs an illegal business, not me.”
    “Are you serious? What does she do?”
    “She sells lingerie and kinky stuff to transvestites. If you look at the back of the New York Post, she’s always advertising her products.”
    “You’re kidding me. And she’s your foster mom? ”
    “Best one I ever had. Maybe taking me in is a way to atone for her sins, like the fact that she doesn’t have a business license and she’s not paying taxes. I think she’s lived a wild life. Gina’s, like, seventy-five—she won’t tell me exactly how old. But she’s not like the other foster parents I’ve had—she doesn’t do it for the money. She doesn’t treat me like a piece of furniture. She’s a good person. A businesswoman through and through. If you know a guy who needs sexy lingerie, I’ll put him in touch with her.” Jared doesn’t seem embarrassed about any of this. I bet he has a thousand crazy stories.
    “You must have some weird people coming in and out of the house.”
    “I rarely run into anyone. When I do, they look down like they’re embarrassed. These guys are shy and pretty normal-looking. They don’t want anyone to know.”
    “So how long have you been at Gina’s?”
    “About two years.”
    “Where were you before that?”
    “Got bounced from one home to another since I was ten. My mom’s messed up on drugs. Never knew my dad.” He shrugs. “I’ll be eighteen at the end of June. Free to go my own way for a change.”
    I’m shocked that he’s being so open. I don’t know what to say except, “I’m sorry.”
    “For what?”
    “It must’ve been rough.”
    “Don’t do that.”
    “Do what?”
    “The pity thing.”
    “Oh. Sorry.”
    “There it is again. Relax, Kayla. We’ve all dealt with our own shit, haven’t we?”
    True, but I doubt my parents’ divorce and the arrival of the Swede match what he’s been through.
    “Rodrigo, my social worker, says