He runs his hand down my arm and then secures it around me. My heart starts to speed up again, like a runner in the last mile of a marathon. Just when I didn’t think it could go anymore, it takes off again.
“This is funny, huh?” he says. He clears his throat. “I just mean, you and I.”
“Funny?”
“Well, no, notfunny. Just different.”
“Well, yeah. I mean, usually we’re not sitting like this.” I gesture to his arm that’s still resting on my side.
“No, usually we’re not.” He doesn’t remove his hand. Instead, he presses me closer.
Something is bubbling up and out of me, and even though I want to keep it inside, rest my head on Rob’s chest and just enjoy how nice it feels to be near him, I know I have to say it. I turn around to look at him.
“I’m worried,” I say.
“About what?” He takes his other hand and brushes some hair out of my face the way he did at prom last year.
“You’re my best friend,” I whisper. “What if this doesn’t work out?”
“You’re already planning our demise?”
“Not demise.” I exhale. “I’m just worried, is all.”
He takes my hand in his and presses his thumb into my palm. His hands feel strong and soft. “I know,” he says. And then, with his thumb still in my palm, he adds, “But I haven’t even kissed you yet.”
I drop my eyes down to the rock, but I know without looking at him that he’s staring at me, and when he releases my hand, puts both of his on the sides of my face, and lifts my head up, I see that I’m right.
He leans in slowly. So slowly it feels like we’re in slow motion. And then his lips are on mine. They are so soft and warm, and it’s not until he pulls back gently that I realize how much I’ve wanted him to kiss me. How it’s really the only thing I’ve wanted.
“We’ll figure it out, Rosie,” he says, stroking my cheek. “I promise.” And then he’s kissing me again, and it feels so good to be close to him, his hands on my back, his lips on mine, that I can’t believe there was a time before we were doing this at all.
Scene Three
When Rob drops me off,we’re holding hands across the front seat, my palm lightly resting in his.
“Should I come in?” he asks.
I glance from our intertwined hands to my front door. “No,” I say. “Why don’t we shelve that conversation. Just for a little.” There wouldn’t be anything strange about Rob coming in—Rob and I have been out a million times, and he always comes over after—but I’m not sure how much my parents know, and how much I’m ready to tell them.
He smiles and cuts the engine, releasing my hand and leaning over in his seat. He plants a kiss on my temple, one above the bridge of my nose, and then one gently on my lips.
“Okay,” he says. “Sleep sweet, Rosie.” It’s the same good nighthe’s been giving me since we were kids, but this time it makes my heart rattle in my chest.
“Sleep sweet,” I whisper. I stumble out of the car and into my house, dizzy from his lips.
Our front door opens into our kitchen. My parents are always hanging out in there, drinking tea and reading the paper in their bathrobes until midnight. I swear if it wasn’t for the fact that it’s dark out, you’d think it was morning.
Tonight when I come inside, they’re not there, though. Instead they are in the living room with Rob’s parents. They’re talking so loudly, they don’t hear me enter.
“I don’t know what to say,” Rob’s mother says. She’s sitting on the arm of Rob’s father’s chair. He has his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. My mom is standing, holding a glass, and so is my father, which is strange, because neither of them ever drinks. They don’t even like wine with dinner.
“Have you spoken to them?” Rob’s father asks.
My father shakes his head. “I left a message with his office, but no one has gotten back to me.” He looks at my mom. “I don’t even have their home number.”
“Why call?” Rob’s mother asks. “Isn’t it best to leave things as they are?”
“This is a small town, Jackie. You know that. We’ll run into them sooner or later,” my dad says.
