She looks away, as if embarrassed. “Yeah, so I’ve been told. I fell into the edge of a table when I was little, and the injury changed the color of one eye.” She shrugs and repeats her earlier question. “Your brother. Has he hurt you before?”
I nod. “He changed a lot after our ma died. He’s angrier now. Distant.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she says in a quiet voice, gently placing gauze on my palm before securing it with tape. “How long ago was that?”
“Three years ago.” The next part, I don’t like to share with people, but this girl, whose name I don’t even know, feels different. Safe. “She overdosed. Kenny found her.”
She blows out a breath, the warmth of it tickling my wrist. “That’s rough.”
“Yeah.”
We don’t say anything for a while, and I feel like an idiot for bringing down the mood, not that it was particularly high to begin with. “Hey, um,” I begin, attempting to change the subject, “thanks for helping me. You didn’t have to do that.”
She examines her work. My hands are cleaned and bandaged neatly, but still, her hard gaze makes it seem like her wound care is shoddy. “Bullies only stop bullying when you stop them”––her gaze lifts to meet mine, and I notice the corner of her mouth lifting slightly––“and I like stopping them.”
“You’re brave,” I mutter, in awe. She really is like a jungle cat. “I wish I were as brave as you.”
“How old are you?”
“Sixteen.”
“I’m sure you’ll get the opportunity to be brave someday. You’ve got plenty of time.”
I nod in agreement. “How old are you?”
“Fourteen.”
I scoff. She’s tallerandyounger. What an embarrassing day this has turned out to be. “Seems like you’ve gotten a good head start.”
She gets to her feet as she looks out at the water, brushing the sand off her hands. “Well, that’s because I’m a national treasure, so…”
I laugh. Even though I can tell she’s being self-deprecating, I want to shout,You really are though!I may be young, but I’ve certainly never met anyone like her. I doubt I ever will.
Her cheeks flush as she says, “Really?”
That’s when I realize I said that last thought out loud. Before I can pray for a sinkhole to open beneath me and swallow me whole, she says, “You’re sweet,” and leans down to press her lips against mine.
I can’t move. I can’t think. This gorgeous girl not only saved my life but is nowkissingme. Lip-on-lip kissing. The real deal.The kind you see in the movies. She tastes like lemonade and cherry Chapstick. I feel my heart thumping wildly, and my dick is like a steel rod in my shorts. I can’t believe this is happening. My hands flex at my sides, and I wonder what I’m supposed to do with them. Should I put them on her back? Or her waist? Maybe her butt? It’s a nice butt, and I’d very much like to know how it feels, but would she punch me after?Likely. And it’s not worth it if it means she’ll stop kissing me. I want this moment to last forever. I feel her hands land on my shoulders, and just as I reach out to touch her, to bring her closer, she pulls away.
A whimper escapes me at the loss of contact, and I can feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. “Wow,” is all I can say, because aside from that word, my head is empty, or so filled with the soft feel of her lips that there’s no room for anything else.
She giggles as she pushes a lock of hair behind her ear. “Yeah. Wow.”
“Was that, um…” I stammer, “I mean, have you––”
“Kissed anyone before?” She finishes with a shy expression that looks out of place on her face. “No. You’re my first.”
“Lindsay!” I hear a soft, high-pitched voice call out from the road. A tiny girl with long black hair stands in the clearing with a Beanie Baby in one hand as she waves the other at us.
My savior turns toward the voice and shouts, “Coming!”
Lindsay. Her name is Lindsay. Beautiful. It suits her.
“I’ve gotta go. My dad is taking us to get ice cream.”
“That your sister over there?” I ask.
She nods. “It was nice to meet you, um…” she trails off, waiting for me to offer my name.
