Prologue
Ten years ago
“Can I kiss you?” I whisper as we linger in the shadows of Maggie’s parents’ porch. Light from the front window highlights her profile as she stares up at me, wide-eyed and innocently wetting her lower lip at my question.
Butterflies take flight in my belly with the idea of kissing her. She’s so pretty it makes my mouth water.
I haven’t been able to look away since the moment she descended the stairs in a fancy swirl of light pink. Even though her mom and dad stood there, hovering like disapproving guard dogs—probably because she’s two years younger than me—I couldn’t help my idiotic gawking. Pretty sure the thundering of my heart was the loudest part of the conversation, louder than the swish of those long skirts that rustled with each step she took. Louder than my swallow as my gaze traveled up the flowing dress, across the sharp line where shimmery fabric met silky skin, up thedelicate column of her throat, across pink lips that begged to be kissed, to wide eyes perfectly lined by long lashes.
For one heart-stopping moment, our eyes met and held. In their depths, I saw myself, and the recognition floored me. Two awkward misfits, barely breathing at the sight of each other. Then, a blush bloomed across her chest, up her neck, and over her cheeks, and I relaxed.
It’d been a risk to ask this beautiful girl to prom, one that had paid off over the past few weeks as we did homework together and got to know each other. My reward was the honor of being the guy by her side all night.
But for her to blush so prettilyfor me, T. J. Williams, the geeky misfit known only for being a math whiz, meant this was important to her too.
“You are so pretty,” I whispered later, while I held her as close as I dared, closer than allowed, on a dance floor covered with overheated, hormone-raging teenagers. It didn’t matter that the song wasn’t slow. It didn’t matter that I didn’t know all the cool dances to do.
All that mattered was she was there, with me.
Moving to small-town Georgia from California had been hard, and I had stood by for the last four years, trying to fit in. Always on the outskirts of the popular crowd, always the misfit, the geek, the nerd. Looking across an invisible chasm at what appeared to be a better world than mine, an existence more fun than I’d ever know.
But tonight, this beautiful girl made me feel larger than life. It sucked that I’d found my balls so late, that I’d wasted the whole school year away. At least I’d finally found them and had asked her, and now we’re here. We have the few weeks left of the school year and all of summer to explore this soul connection. And maybe longer, if she’ll promise to be mine while I go away to wildlandfirefighter school.
I’m already hers.
“Yes.” It was a breath, almost a gasp, the sharp hitch hitting me solidly in the dick. “I’ve been waiting all night for you to kiss me.” I’d hated the tux jacket from the moment I put it on, until I realized it was excellent at camouflaging the boner I’d had since the first moment I laid eyes on her. Her fingers tighten around mine, like she knows how she affects me. Like maybe she feels the same way I do.
It should be perfect, this first kiss. She deserves the most perfect good-night kiss to end this perfect prom night. I take a step closer, my shoe disappearing under the pink layers.
Drawing our hands between us, I press hers right over my heart. The same spot I held it all night as we danced. My unspoken promise to her that I’m in this, thatwe’rein this together. And all night, I’ve watched her bloom and grow from being too nervous to meet my eyes to holding my gaze as she smiled and laughed with me.
I’ve never felt so seen in my entire life.
The nerves drain away, and it’s the most natural thing in the world to slip my hand around her waist and pull her closer. So close that the corsage pinned to her dress is crushed against my rented tux. So close I can feel her breath on my skin.
And when I close the distance between us and our lips touch for the first time, when they meet again for a second taste, I know heaven. When my tongue brushes hers… pure bliss.
“Thank you for a perfect night,” I whisper against her lips, not wanting to leave her, even though we’re perilously close to her curfew, and any minute, her folks could interrupt. “Can I see you tomorrow?”
She peers back at me, swollen-lipped and glassy-eyed,and nods. My heart takes flight. I am suddenly invincible. The luckiest son of a bitch in the world.
I take her mouth one more time, because I can, then channel every bit of self-control I possess and step away.
The porch light flips on, my cue to see her into the house. But her smile as she looks back at me from the doorway… I’ll cherish it, let it carry me through the rest of the night’s events, until I see her again.
I float down the steps and to my truck. I’ll never forget this night.
“Dude, this is way higher than I realized,” I mutter to Jackson as the mid-May wind kicks up, sticking my thin rented shirt to my undershirt. I peer over the ledge at the dark rippling water below, wondering why the hell I agreed to this. Illuminated by the moon and occasionally a random flashlight, it shouldn’t be so terrifying. Honestly, how bad could it be when everyone else is taking the leap like it’s nothing to jump out into a black void and plummet into unknown waters?
“It’s not that bad, don’t be such a pussy,” he replies. “You’re the one wanting to go jump out of planes and into fires and shit. It’s just like that, only into water.”
I don’t know when it started, but senior jump has become a rite of passage. Every year, at the end of prom, the seniors meet at midnight at The Landing and jump in the lake. Most of the guys still wear their prom clothes, but a lot of the girls have changed into something that won’t make them sink to the bottom of the lake.
For the first time, I’m glad Maggie’s not in my grade, glad she had to be home early and isn’t at this stupid event. Ihave a feeling she wouldn’t like it and wouldn’t like me doing it.
I’ll have to fess up when I see her tomorrow. Just the thought of seeing her, and maybe kissing her again, has me standing taller, even though I’m scared shitless.
Taking the senior plunge is tradition. It represents everything we’re jumping off into. If prom is our reward for surviving our last school year, the plunge is our way of expressing our independence. Essentially, we’re done—the only official high school stuff left is finals and then graduation. Tonight, it looks like most of our graduating class decided to partake. Good thing there are only forty-five of us this year. As it is, half the class is on the ledge, and the other half has jumped and is queuing up to jump again.
