That First Special Kiss

He didn’t say goodbye in return. He didn’t really like that word—especially when it came to people he cared about. Like Kelly—who, he reminded himself as he smelled the flowers one more time, was just like a member of his family.

Thursday night found Kelly exactly where she had predicted she would be—alone in her apartment with a stack of books and a can of diet soda. She didn’t usually mind studying, since she enjoyed attending classes and had only a little more than a semester remaining to earn her master’s degree. But for some reason, she had found it difficult to concentrate on her books this evening.

She couldn’t help thinking about the party she was missing. It w

asn’t that she was the type who could never miss a party. And she was only marginally acquainted with Jackie, in whose honor the party was being given. It was actually fairly rare that Kelly accepted party invitations, since she didn’t usually have much time to spare. But tonight she wondered who’d made it to Nancy’s party. Were Cameron and Amber there, still going strong in their new relationship? Had Michael Chang, who’d been undecided the last time she’d talked to him, decided to go? Had Shane found time to “drop by,” as he’d said he might do?

It wasn’t hard to picture her friends laughing and having a great time at Nancy’s. Food and conversation would be plentiful, and the big-screen TV would be tuned in to the sports channel. If Shane was there, he would be working the room, making the guys laugh with his endless supply of jokes, charming the women with his easy flirting.

Shane was very good at parties. Kelly usually enjoyed them herself—except for those times when she suffered from old insecurities about not fitting in. Being an outsider. She would occasionally find herself suddenly battling shyness, uncertain what to say or do. Fortunately those episodes were rare, and had grown even more uncommon during the past year, since she had carved such a comfortable niche for herself in Dallas.

Like her little apartment, she thought, glancing up from her books to look around her cozy nest in approval. She’d decorated sparingly, a choice due more to finances than taste, but every item had been selected because she liked it. She had utilized warm, rich colors and comfortable textures, enlarging small spaces with artfully placed mirrors, brightening dark corners with lamps and candles. This was home for her now, and she was happy here—despite the occasional lonely evenings. Like this one.

She nearly jumped out of her seat when her doorbell rang at just after nine o’clock that evening. She couldn’t imagine who was calling on her at this hour on a Thursday night. She realized she’d been sitting in one place too long when her permanently weakened right leg protested her quick rise from her chair. She shook it a little as she moved to the door, trying to loosen the stiff muscles. Straightening the oversize electric-blue sweater she wore with black leggings and black ballet slippers, she checked the peephole, then broke into a smile when she recognized the man making faces at her through the viewer.

“Shane,” she said, throwing open the door. “What are you doing here?”

Certain of his welcome, he sauntered in without waiting for an invitation. Kelly gave him a quick once-over as he passed her, noting that he had swapped his usual uniform of denim shirt, jeans and boots for a longsleeve, dark red polo shirt with loose-fitting khakis and brown suede oxfords. Shane Walker was one finelooking man, and Kelly was honest enough with herself to admit she found him attractive, even if she had no intention of ever risking their friendship by acting on that attraction.

He was carrying a large paper bag in his right hand. He set it on the table next to her stack of textbooks. “How’s the studying going? Ready for the big test?”

“I think so. I was just about to put the books away for the evening.”

“Great.” Shane rubbed his hands together in satisfaction. “Then the party can begin.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “Party?”

With what she had always secretly labeled his “evil child grin,” Shane sauntered over to her stereo, tuned in a top-forty station, then returned to open the bag he’d carried in. “Since you couldn’t come to the party, I brought the party to you,” he announced.

He pulled out a shiny silver-and-purple, cone-shaped party hat and plopped it on her head, sliding the elastic band under her chin to hold it in place. “It’s you,” he proclaimed, then solemnly settled a green-and-gold cardboard top hat on his own dark head.

Reaching up to straighten her hat, Kelly couldn’t help giggling. “You really are insane.”

“I’ve just gotten started.” He dove into the bag again and pulled out a bottle of wine and two plastic wineglasses. The bottle had been opened, but most of the wine still remained, Kelly noted. Shane filled both glasses, then gave one to Kelly. “To Jackie,” he said, lifting his glass.

She repeated the toast to the birthday girl, then took a sip. And promptly choked. “What is that?”

His own drink untasted, Shane made a production of checking the bottle label. “Château de Bubba,” he pretended to read aloud. “Bottled last week in Alamogordo.”

“Let me guess. Chuck the Cheapskate brought wine for the party.”

“Good guess. Everyone insisted that I should bring some to you.”

Taking another cautious sip, Kelly barely repressed a shudder. “I’ll have to find a way to thank them all.”

Without touching his own glass, Shane reached into the bag again. Two covered foam containers revealed sizable portions of birthday cake, each piece bearing several pink icing flowers. With the flair of a stage magician, he produced two birthday candles, which he stuck into the slices and lit with a lighter also pulled from the bag.

“We have to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to Jackie now,” he instructed gravely. He started the song in a deliberately off-key warble. Kelly alternately giggled and sang along, then followed his example and blew out the candle on her cake. A thin stream of smoke tickled her nose, making her giggle again.

“Is there anything else in that bag?” she asked after he produced plastic forks.

“But of course,” he replied. The next item he brought out was a small, brightly wrapped gift. “Can’t have a birthday party without presents.”

“But Jackie isn’t here to open it.”

“This one isn’t for Jackie. This is for you.” Shane pressed the box into her hand.

“For me? But it isn’t my birthday.”