Her face shifts into a reluctant, sad smile. “Different experiences teach us different things.”
She looks at her watch, the smile slipping away. “I need to go.”
“But we’ve only been here for a little while. Can’t you stay?” I try my lower lip pout and pleading eyes. It always works with Gretchen. She gives me extra chocolate silk pie when I bring out the puppy dog eyes.
“I have to work.”
“This late?” I glance up at the sky. It’s already turning dark pink and purple.
“I close every Friday night.” She says it matter-of-factly, no regret at being unable to attend parties or go to the movies. Things I do on Friday nights.
I lean in to her, so that only six inches separates our faces. “You know I’m going to have to kiss you before you go.”
Ember’s hand finds my arm, it’s warmth seeping through the thin cotton shirt I’m wearing. “I’d be angry if you didn’t,” she whispers.
And then Ember blows my mind.
She takes every experience I’ve had with girls and tosses it right on its naïve head.
Closing the distance,shekissesme. Not with a small, tentative peck either. No, this is an all-out, balls to the wall, hands tangling in hair kind of kiss. One that has me rising and falling, gasping for air, and then taking it from her. Just as suddenly as she started it, she pulls back.
“I’m not done,” I complain, my eyes tracing her reddened cheeks. I’m certain they're flushed from the kiss, not from embarrassment. She doesn’t seem to embarrass at all.
She laughs and gets up from the rock.
“Next time,” she says. “I can’t be late for work.”
“Next time,” I echo, standing too. “Can I take you to a movie tomorrow night?”
“I’m baby-sitting until five.”
I fall into step beside her. “You’re a hard worker.” We reach the path where I first spotted her in the lake. She shrugs but stays quiet. Did I say something wrong? “It’s admirable,” I add quickly, pulling her hand into mine, and when she leans her head on my upper arm, I feel the relief drip from me.
We step from the trees and into the parking lot, and I wish she didn't have to leave. I want to take her somewhere and ask her questions, starting withwhere the hell have you been hiding yourself?I can’t imagine I was ever in proximity to her and didn't know it. The way I react to her, the automatic interest, how could any of that have slipped by me? How has she been slipping by me for the last three and a half years?
“There’s my ride.” She points to a bike leaning against a tree on the far side of the parking lot.
“You’re going to bike all the way to work?” That’s crazy. It’s way too far, especially with the sun going down.
“It’s three-point-four miles from here. I checked.”
“Wouldn’t a car be faster?”
“Yes,” she says, lifting her head slowly and bringing it back down in one drawn-out nod, “a car would be faster.” She levels me with her gaze, and my heart lands with a heavy thud in my abdomen.
“Can we reverse to twenty seconds ago, before I asked the presumptuous question that made me look like a privileged ass?” I rub the back of my neck with my free hand.
“Aren’t you privileged?” Her eyes have laser-beam focus. Her voice doesn't convey any jealousy or indignation. She’s merely asking a question and seeking an honest answer.
“Yes, I am. Am I also an ass?”
She holds up a hand, tipping it left to right. “A little, but you do it with finesse. You make it cute, not so…ass-y.”
“Ass-y?”
“It’s a word. I just made it one.”
She looks adorable right now, with the breeze moving the baby hairs around her face and the smattering of freckles across her cheeks. I can’t help what I’m about to do.
