Forgotten First Kiss

Chapter 10

Outside Wilder River by about three miles, the river bends so sharply and frequently that it reverses direction several times. There, the water slows to a near halt. Beside one bend, a stand of trees shades the edges, and there lies the best fishing in the county. Maybe in the state.

It was there I chose to take Danica on our first official date. Yes, we’d spent practically every day together since I came to town, other than my Reserve weekend, and we’d eaten dinner together every night for the past week as she expanded her cooking skills with varying levels of success. We were, for all intents and purposes, dating.

But I couldn’t let it be misconstrued at any point. I couldn’t let her old you’re such a good friend phrase come back to bite me. I wanted to be clear. Crystal clear. I was dating Danica—because she wanted me to.

That afternoon, her text came. Are you sure we can’t get together before eight?

She wanted to see me. My systems revved. Why?

If not, I have to put in an appearance on the family video chat, and you know how dreary those are for me. Please?

Begging. For my company. What other strange events would occur in life? Well, one I hoped for, absolutely—the kiss that I’d been saving for her all this time.

I took a swig of my Pepsi and formulated my response. I’ll try to come earlier, if I can. Wear a jacket.

The afternoon dragged on. It was all I could do not to tear out of Aunt June’s driveway and speed to Danica’s house and promise to whisk her away from all her troubles and cares, like she seemed to want me to do, and like I was more than capable of doing. Meanwhile, I raked up acorns on Aunt June’s yard, replanted some flowerbeds with chrysanthemums for the autumn, moved stuff around in her garage, and repaired a couple of shingles on her shed.

Those tasks did not accelerate the clock.

“Hey, cousin.” Garrett appeared. “You have plans for tonight? Some of us are getting together for a tailgate party before the high school football game. I thought you’d like to paint yourself blue and reenact your finest hour.”

Nice. “I’m figuring out better ways to impress girls.”

“Like showing them the balance in your bank account instead, for instance?” Garrett snorfled. “Someone down at the plant told me about your latest medical group acquisition. Georgetown and Prince. Seventy practices nationwide. Impressive. They mentioned nine digits were involved. It’s probably crass to ask, but was that profit to Hotston?”

“Before taxes.” I took off my work gloves and whacked him with them. “And you’re correct. Anything that reminds me how much of life is eaten up by taxes is totally crass.”

“You know me. Always saying the wrong thing.”

“Ha.” I rolled my eyes. “Ha, ha.” If Garrett ever said the wrong thing in his life, no one had ever been around to hear it—as a twist on the tree falls in the forest postulate. “Have a good time tonight. Maybe you should paint yourself blue.”

“I don’t have the ripped body of a seventeen-year-old. It wouldn’t be received with as much glee by the female population as when you did it.”

“They were all covering their eyes.”

“But peeking through their fingers. Man, of all the times I was jealous of you, that was the pinnacle.”

Uh, no. “Be serious. That was the night of your biggest touchdown. Historic stuff.”

Garrett just shrugged. “But who was everyone talking about the next day at school? And for the next six months?”

“The loser who humiliated himself for a girl and still got rejected?”

“Yep.” The side of Garrett’s face wrinkled. “Keep on keeping on, pal. She’ll fall for you one day. But do consider flashing her the bank balance. It works every time, I’m told.”

Garrett went inside, taking from his car a few grocery bags for Aunt June. He was a great guy. He ran the plant, he took care of his mom. How come Garrett hadn’t fallen victim to one of the myriad girls in Wilder River who were likely pining for him? Or at least their mothers were pining that their daughters would snag him? Why hadn’t Danica chased him?

The thought soured my saliva. I went for a drive to shake it off, playing the radio loudly, running the playlist of Australian boy band songs. Did I sing along? No one needs to know that. After a bit, I felt grounded again, and I went back to Aunt June’s and gathered up all the supplies for the night’s activity: two fishing rods, bait, a fish knife, plastic bags for our catch, blanket, folding chairs, dinner packed in a huge basket, flashlights, a lantern, and my courage.

I took them all to the river bend and set them up.

That prep took until seven forty-five, thank goodness. I headed to her house.

She rushed out to meet me. “You’re early! Thank you. It got me off the video call just when they were passing around conflicting memories of events and breaking into an argument about who threw all the toilet paper down the outhouse hole when we went camping in the national forest when we were kids, and I just couldn’t take another second of it. Thank you, Jeremy. You saved me once again.”

“The sun will set in about a half hour.” I helped her into the car, and she squeezed my hand, guiding it to stretch the seatbelt over her.