We stand in unisonand Leland takes my hand. Thankfully, people are milling around andit should be easy to slip out unnoticed. We grab our coats from thecloakroom and keep our gazes straight ahead as we make our waythrough the gym doors. I veer toward the exit, but Leland guides mein the opposite direction, further into the school.
“Whereare we going?” I ask.
“I justwant to see something.” We duck under a rope that’s been erectedbetween the hall that leads to the gym and the rest of theschool.
“Won’twe get in trouble?” My voice is a breathless whisper as I hurry tokeep up with Leland’s quick strides. We move further down thedarkened hall, past the bank of lockers and the hallways thatbranch off with rows of classrooms.
“Whatare they going to do to us?” Leland asks, his voice echoingslightly in the eerie silence of the hallway.
As we near the endof the rows of lockers, I realize where we’re going. My suspicionis confirmed when Leland turns to the left and pushes through a setof double doors into the cafeteria. The space is faintly lit fromthe street lights shining in through the wall of windows on the farside. While the hallways felt oddly smaller to me than they did allthose years ago, the cafeteria still feels vast. I’ve never seen itempty like this before. Even though I mostly spent time here duringmy free period, there were always other students around.
Leland inspectsthe light switches along the wall and finally seems to pick one atrandom. A row of fluorescent lights flickers onoverhead.
“Thejukebox is gone,” he says.
“There’s one in the back room of the diner.” I move fartherinto the room and spin in a slow circle. “If you play your cardsright, I’m sure Bea will let us in there some night. She’llprobably even give us cookies.”
“It’s adate.” Leland shoots me a smile as he crosses the room to the tablewe always used to sit at. I hesitate before following him andsliding onto the bench seat across from him. I continue to lookaround the room, not that there’s much to see. When my gaze settleson Leland, he’s watching me with an unreadableexpression.
“Ithought about you often during my first year of university,” hesays. “I asked Wes about you once in a while. Tried to make it seemcasual so he wouldn’t wonder why I wanted to know.”
His words shock memore than if he’d told me he never gave me a second thought once heleft Bellevue. That would be more in line with what I’d expected:for him to have mostly forgotten about me other than the few timeswe ran into each other when we were both in town, usually aroundthe holidays. He always seemed pleased to see me, but that’s justhow Leland is. Once or twice he suggested Wesley and I join himsome night for a drink, but it never happened.
Leland rests hishands on the table, palms up. It’s an invitation I’m powerless torefuse. And why would I? Holding Leland’s hands has become secondnature, whether we’re alone or in a crowded room.
I place my handsin his and he smiles as his fingers close around mine. He rubs histhumbs over my fingers, lingering on the colorful marks on my righthand.
“I keepreplaying what you told me that one night about how you felt thecolor was leached out of you during your marriage,” he says. “Ihate thinking of you unhappy and feeling like you had to hide yourtrue self. I’m glad returning to Bellevue has brought color backinto your life. You, Stella McGrath, are meant to be appreciated inTechnicolor.”
I stare at Lelandin silence, completely lost for words. He seems to understand, ashe always does, because he simply continues to play with myfingers. All his silliness from earlier has faded away, leavingthis moment feeling weighty. The silence presses in around us, andI nearly startle when he speaks again.
“Iwanted to kiss you back then,” he says. “In highschool.”
I wait for him tocrack a smile or laugh to let me know he’s joking. He doesn’t. “Ohplease,” I say, injecting a teasing note into my voice. “You didnot.”
His earnestexpression doesn’t change. “I did.”
He’s not kidding.That weighty feeling returns, making the air feel thick. Headspinning, I struggle to draw in a breath. “We’ve been reliving ourhigh school days lately, right? Doing things differently, takingchances, healing past wounds.” I pause and he nods once, his eyesnarrowed slightly. “So kiss me now.”
Leland swallowsaudibly. “Won’t that…complicate things?”
“Ithink it’s a bit late for that, don’t you? We’ve been blurringlines all over the place.”
Leland nods again.“We should probably talk about that, don’t you think?”
I liftone shoulder. “I suppose that would be the mature thing to do. Butconsidering you were the one whispering sweet nothings aboutFraggle Rock and Popples in my ear less than an hour ago, I thinkwe can forget about maturity for tonight. Let’s be Teenage Lelandand Stella for this moment. Teenage Stella wouldn’t believe for asecond that Teenage Leland—popular, hot, liked by all—would evereventhinkaboutkissing her.”
Leland leansacross the table and my body automatically does the same, as ifwe’re two magnets being drawn together. He’s near enough for me tofeel his warm breath on my face, but he doesn’t movecloser.
“GuessI’d better prove her wrong then.”
I close my eyesand wait for his lips to meet mine. Instead, the air grows cooleras he moves away. Disappointment swoops through me, coupled withembarrassment. Eyes still closed, I listen as his soft footfallscome around the table and stop behind me. Something brushes my arm,and my eyes fly open to see his hand held out, waiting.
He helps me climboff the bench, shifting me so we’re face to face. My hands grip hisshoulders as his hands cup my cheeks, his thumbs moving in abarely-there caress. His breath ghosts over my face again and myeyes close involuntary, even as I pray I won’t be disappointed thistime.
Leland’s lipstouch mine for the briefest of seconds. My grip on his shoulderstightens and I lift up on my toes, pressing closer. His lips returnto mine, the gentle slide soon turning into a kiss I can feel inevery inch of my body.
I melt againsthim. His hands move from my face so he can wrap his arms around me,drawing me closer. This kiss is different from our other kisses.There was passion in that first experimental kiss, and then a sortof innocence in the sweet, cinnamon-flavored kiss we shared justlast night. This one is slow but thorough, gentle yet insistent. Itmakes my knees wobble and my head swim. We’re both breathless whenour lips part.
