I swearto God my heart completely misses a beat as the words leave my mouth. Maybe two. But I still don’t regret it. I’ve wanted to kiss him for so long and I was running out of time. At some point in the next twenty-four months our lives would diverge. Declan wants to go to college. I want the draft. Well, my parents want the draft. They want it so badly they’re talking about pulling me out of the local high school and sending me to some elite hockey boarding school in Minnesota. That would mean I don’t even get to be in the same place as Declan. It hasn’t happened yet, and I might not even get in… but still, tonight felt like an open door so I walked through it. Because there might now be very many more open doors.
He doesn’t say anything for so long that, when my heart starts beating again, it takes off like a petrified cat. So I start talking like a used car salesman. “I mean, it’s just a chance to practice. So I can reassure you Aspen is a drama queen. You don’t have to do it. But, I mean, it can’t hurt to have a second opinion. I’m unbiased and I know what I’m doing. I could even give you tips.”
He still doesn’t say anything. But he also isn’t yanking his hand out from under mine, throwing sand in my face, and running for the boardwalk like I’m a disgusting pervert who just blew up our friendship. Every time I think about losing him from my life bile rises in my throat. But lately, every time I think about never trying to actually kiss him, bile also rises in my throat.
“But.”
It’s all he says. It’s not even a trailing sentence, just one word. He swallows so hard I can see his Adam’s apple strain against his skin. I lick my lips nervously. They still have sugar on them from the cotton candy but I barely taste it as I wait for something more from him. Anything.
“But…” he says again and this time he pauses, blinks his dark blue eyes, but continues. “You’re a dude.”
“I am.” I nod and smile. It feels like it’s lopsided and awkward and it probably is. “There’s no law that says you can’t practice on a guy. Or just, you know, kiss a guy in general for whatever reason.”
“Our parents would disagree with that,” he says. But it’s not in a counter-argument kind of way. He’s just stating the obvious.
“The Bible isn’t the law. It’s a book that may or may not be fictional,” I reply, and he nods, which I knew he would. We’ve confided our true feelings about religion to each other before. We’re both Team Undecided. Unfortunately, our parents are both Team Bible Thumper. At least our moms are. And my dad. His dad is kind of Team No Comment, which I admire.
“You want me to practice kissing? With you?”
More than I want a hockey contract, a Stanley Cup, to live another day, my brain screams inside my head.
I shrug. “I want you to stop feeling like shit. Have confidence.”
He looks up at the sky again and I’m offended he can look away, because I can’t. You could put a million-dollar visual spectacle of fireworks in that sky right now and I couldn’t tear my eyes from Declan’s face. “Wouldn’t it be weird?”
“Lips are lips. Tongues are tongues.”
Now he looks at me again. “So you’ve practiced before? With a guy?”
I swallow. “I spend ninety percent of my life in close contact with other dudes. Alone. In locker rooms and in hotel rooms and on buses.”
Both his light blond eyebrows shoot sky high. “You’ve kissed a dude on your team? Who? Why? Because they want practice?”
“Why does it matter?”
“I don’t know. Because…” he stares at me long and hard like he’s examining me and I don’t like it, but I stare right back. Declan could say anything right now. He could say ‘because it’s weird’ or ‘because it’s wrong’ or ‘it’s gross.’ A whole lot of ways to end that sentence are ways that would hurt me. A lot. I brace myself. “Because I don’t like the idea of it.”
“Me kissing a guy?” My heart feels like it’s in his hand and he’s dangling it over the side of a cliff.
He swallows hard again and then sucks both his lips into his mouth, between his teeth, like he does when he’s nervous before a track meet. “You kissing a guy… a guy that isn’t me.”
Boom!
Was that a firework? No. I think that explosion was from the truth bomb he just dropped. Or maybe it was our friendship blowing up, but in a good way? I move my hand that’s still lying on top of his and slide it across the sand and onto his thigh. My touch is featherlight. I barely feel the cotton of his shorts under my fingertips. “So use me. Practice. Let me tell you if you know what you’re doing. Let me give you tips if you don’t.”
“Are you sure?”
I nod. “Only if you are. Because I’m not, like, forcing you. It’s just a suggestion. I’m your friend no matter what, Deck. I just thought…”
I stop speaking because he’s leaning in, closer to me. He tucks his lips in again and then untucks them and they’re wet and plump and I watch his eyes flutter shut and I close my own. At first, he just kind of brushes his lips against mine, so lightly I’m not sure I feel anything. Then he presses our mouths together. It’s tentative and quite frankly a little awkward, but somehow my dick is still throbbing in my pants. And the rush of hormones gives me a jolt of confidence. I pull back. His eyes open and I grin at him. “Well if that’s how you do it, yeah I can see why it’s not a five-star review.”
“Fuck you!” Declan barks, his cheeks are pink, maybe even full-on red. Hard to tell in the dim light.
I tip my head toward the rest of the beach. The closest group of people are just a dark lump of shadows a few boardwalks down. And they, along with everyone else, are facing the fireworks, not us. “No one is looking and no one can see us even if they did look. It’s too dark back here. So if that’s what you’re worried about, don’t. Pretend we’re in a closet. Pretend I’m Aspen.”
Oh gross, did I really just say that?
His face grows serious. “I don’t want to think about Aspen right now.”
