Only two boys have kissed me before. Greg Barton and Jeremy Ashford. Greg, two years ago. And Jeremy last school year.
Greg Barton is a year older than me and I thought kissing him would be life-altering. And it was, just not in the way I had hoped. It actually grossed me out. He had kissed me sloppily, his saliva-coated lips and tongue painting my mouth like they had no idea where my mouth was. I never kissed him back because the thought terrified me.
Jeremy Ashford went to middle school with me and was the most popular boy in the school. I was so nervous just before we kissed. Probably because we were at a friend’s party playing truth or dare. He was dared to kiss me. Poor guy. I still feel bad for him and the bite I’d given his tongue when he pushed it between my lips.
Needless to say, after my most recent experience, rumors spread about how I didn’t know how to kiss or make out. And everyone consoled Jeremy and his marred tongue. Whatever. He was a douche. Besides, I always did better on my own. Loner girl and all.
But looking into Gavin’s eyes above mine, his lips separated just enough for him to draw in breath, I know kissing him would be different. Not another awkward kiss to add to the list of strange life experiences. But maybe on another list. One where you write down all the things you never want to forget because nothing else will compare.
We may have only met three weeks ago, but Gavin is not like every other guy. And I don’t know how that makes me feel.
His body presses heavier into my belly and chest, his lips a breath from mine. I close my eyes, sending a message to the gods above and thanking them for whatever is happening. My breath hitches again in anticipation and then he is gone. His weight removed from my body and the warm breeze blowing my hair in my face.
My eyes fly open and glance over to where he sits up, a gleam of pure joy smeared across his face as he pops a carrot in his mouth.
Did he only want the stupid carrot? Or did he want to kiss me too?
Rising up from the ground, I tackle him and reach for my stolen lunch. It’s not long before we share my food and his tray of scary casserole is long forgotten. We munch on veggies and hummus, and I share half of my cashew butter and banana sandwich with him. We share jokes and laugh. And I promise to make him lunch every day, as long as he foots the cost.
But when we walk away from our tree today, a new sensation flutters inside me. A new wish to be fulfilled. A desire to be kissed by the boy walking beside me.
Chapter Nineteen
Cora
Present
“Another round?” the server asks as she deposits loaded fries, onion rings, and our specified burgers on the table.
“Please,” I tell her as I stuff the veggie burger between my lips.
I glance over at the stage and wish karaoke grandpa was doing his number up there. Could really use the laugh. Instead, I am forced to watch some fifty-something guy going through a midlife crisis. He practically makes out with the microphone—I hope someone sanitizes that thing before anyone else uses it—while he sings “Every Rose Has Its Thorns” by Poison.
...and I think his tongue just grazed the mic. Ew!
Our table is momentarily quiet as the four of us scarf down our burgers, occasionally snatching an onion ring or fry. When I come up for air, I notice I have three sets of eyes on me. Erin, Shelly, and Jonas each drill their own hole into my skull, mining for details of why I am acting off. Their weighted stares like an unannounced party in my head. Shelly and I spent the afternoon together, so her matched stares can take a pill.
Personally, I always thin
k I’m strange. So, I don’t know what their deal is.
“I wish you would’ve invited me shopping earlier,” Erin speaks up, bringing conversation back to the table.
“Sorry,” I confess. “I didn’t purposely exclude you. Just wasn’t thinking straight. Guess my brain was still a little foggy from drinking too much last night.” Amongst other things. But I am not announcing that to the table.
To be honest, my day out with Shelly didn’t clear any of the fog either. Not like I hoped it would. Every store we passed, something caught my eye and sent my thought train Gavin’s direction. It’s only been a matter of days, yet he consumes every part of my day. Even now, while I sit with three of my friends and try to have a night of fun.
“It’s okay. Next time,” she indicates.
“Next time,” I promise.
Another round of silence ensues as the woe-is-me guy leaves the karaoke stage. I cross my fingers under the table, hoping the next person is better and more upbeat. And as I watch a pair of ladies walk up to the stage, each grabbing a mic and whispering to each other before the music kicks in, I hope my prayers will be answered.
Seconds later, “Bootylicious” by Destiny’s Child crackles in the air and the two begin singing. They aren’t horrible, but also not great. But at least the way they are shaking their asses onstage is entertaining. I laugh lightly and keep my eyes on the stage.
“You make it home okay last night?” Jonas’s voice breaks my trance on the singing duo. And when I peer over at him to speak, guilt riddles me at the concern stretched over his face. Normal me would have let him know I made it home safely. Normal me was absent last night.
Since the day Jonas and I met, there has always been an easy way about us. Jonas is a great guy. Genuine and thoughtful and kindhearted. He knows how to have fun and make people laugh. And there is no denying I like him. But nothing more could ever happen between us. It wouldn’t be fair to him if I couldn’t be all in. That and his former relationship statuses.