“On the Wiley’s account?” I ask, secretly hoping that’s not what he meant.
“No, I was thinking on my personal one. If that’s okay.”
Judging by the sounds my heart is making, you’d think the fireworks had started early. “Sure, yeah, that’s okay.” Which is a blatant lie because it’s more than okay. It’s wonderful that he wants to share with the world (okay, his couple hundred followers) that we’re friends again. That Imean somethingto him.
As darkness descends on the lot, the chatter stops and the anticipation rises. The cranking tunes turn off.
“This is my favorite part of summer,” I say, ignoring the vibration of a you’ve-been-tagged-in-a-photo notification from my phone in my pocket.
“This is my favorite part of summer too,” Derick echoes.
And just like that, the first explosion crests across the sky evoking oohs and ahhs from the crowd below. Awe blankets the lot as colors careen over the tree line. My chest swells with each crash, bang, and boom.
Derick slides in closer to me, our bare thighs touching. The heat of his body radiates and the heat of the moment elevates. I’m lost in a haze of holiday excitement and hormonal overdrive. Fitful inside me, my heart becomes an entire drum line, playing a song I don’t recognize.
Twenty minutes later, internal percussion section still going strong, the show is set to come to its satisfying close. Derick turns to me gradually, catching me off guard. But when our eyes meet, it’s senior year in the bed of Dad’s pickup truck all over again.
Is this it?
He begins to lean in, eyes dropping to my parted lips.
It occurs to me that by attempting to ignore the kiss quest, I may have made my will to complete it stronger. I’ve been dauntless. I’ve been daring. I’ve been defying the odds of friendship.
But wait. That’s right. I thought he just wanted to be friends. I thought hedidn’tthink of me like that. So many mixed signals and no time to decode any of them.
I don’t care, I decide. I’llthink of uslike that enough for the both of us. I tip forward in encouragement, ready for my very first kiss as blooms of color explode above us.
Just as I’m about to let those perfect lips collide with mine, I…
I…
I whip my head away.
Instinct forces the kiss to come to a record-scratching halt.
I’m back in the Cat’s Pajamas, sweating under a wilting look from Goldie Prawn. The boos in my memory mix with the rapturous applause from the spectators beneath us. The fireworks have ended and so has our moment.
“Oh,” he says. “Oh, um, sorry.”
“No,” I croak without looking at him. But that’s all I get out before I’m on my feet and crossing the roof. I descend the ladder without thinking about its stability. With the grass under my shoes again, tickling my ankles, I break out into a run, swerving around families and cars. My run becomes a sprint ending in a leap back over the shoddy fence. I nearly lose a boat shoe in the process.
It’s stupid, but some part of me thinks I can outpace my feelings.
I learn how untrue that is when I face-plant onto my childhood bed and come completely undone, crying into my pillow, wondering over and over:What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?
Chapter 16
Thump. Thump. Tha-thump.
Hiking uphill three days after thwarting your perfect first kiss is excruciating. Even more excruciating when you haven’t left your bed in those three days except to go to work and hide from the guy you almost kissed at every turn. Who knew avoiding people took so much energy? Every close encounter killed my glucose levels.
The incline up the side of the hill at the Willow Valley Nature Preserve is steeper than I remember. I haven’t walked it since I was in high school. Either I was in better shape then or the ground has moved. I’m choosing to believe my shortness of breath is a product of sediment shifting. The moment I think that, I nearly trip over a treacherous tree root.
I swear the universe is out to get me.
There’s a lookout at the top of the trail with a buffalo sanctuary and a spot to sit. We’re still twenty minutes out. I glug from my water bottle and trudge on. My hiking boots are heavy and slow me down. I’m seven steps behind Mateo and Brandon and four behind Avery. She keeps stopping to retie her shoe laces. It’s annoying how the act makes me think of Derick tying mine in Alice’s kitchen, how cared for and connected to him I was.
“The great outdoors!” Mateo cries. “I am one with nature!”
