Forgotten First Kiss

“Angelica, I am really sorry about that. I wish things had been different.”

“Me, too.” Finally, she left.

There was no time to process all that swirling information. I headed to the showcase. After so many years of doing it, despite the glitches of missing staff—meaning, Tennille—the assistants and I pulled through. The parents didn’t even know that the wrong music played twice for the four-year-olds. To be fair, the four-year-olds probably didn’t notice, either.

The parents didn’t know that we forgot a costume accessory addition—the hair bows for the seven-year-olds—and that we barely remembered the streamers in the back of the stage for the finale. It worked out. And if it hadn’t, the parents would have achieved pretty much the same level of happiness at seeing their offspring springing on the mats.

When it was over, I rolled up one of the mats. Most of the parents were gone, with just a few lingering near the door. I bent and pushed and wrestled the heavy foam.

Then, someone bent over to help me pull the mat out of the way. The cologne alerted me to his identity even before I could turn my head to see his chiseled jaw.

“Great show your gym put on.”

“Jeremy? You were here?”

“I have tickets to a hockey game on Monday. Would you like to go?”

“I love hockey.”

He nodded as if this was not news to him. He showed me the printed tickets. I saw the seats—very good seats—for the local farm team against the big time Reedsville Rhinos. “I’ll see you then.”

Was this a date?