So I turn around and lean against the wall with Clover at my back.
Her chest expels a sigh, her ribs meeting my spine, and then she drapes her arms over my shoulders, her cheek against my ear.
“Linch has eyes on us,” she whispers, but I can’t find the woman in the crowd.
“Best to play the part,” I tell her.
The next forty-five minutes are an adrenaline shot of school spirit. We cheer for football players we’ve never heard of. There are spinning flags. The marching band lets loose, dropping their normal precision and uniformity.
When it’s time to learn the yells, Clover whispers them back to herself rather than shouting along with everyone else. She stays draped over me and neither of us seems to feel as cold as we should.
It’s one of the rare moments that I actually appreciate how many different life forms live on one campus and how, miraculously, thereis room for us all. There is room for the cheerleader and the band nerd and the retired lesbian couple and the sardonic girl majoring in finance so that she can master the one thing that has always eluded her: money.
As Midnight Yell comes to an end, the starting quarterback, whose name is Brad or Brandon or Bryan or something, counts down to the blackout.
“Ten!”
Clover stays right where she is.
“Nine!”
Her breath is hot on my ear.
“Eight!”
Her heart is pounding at my back.
“Seven!”
Mine matches her pace.
“Six!”
I turn around.
“Five!”
Her watery blue eyes skip down to my lips and then back to meet my gaze.
“Four!”
My fingers skim along her jawline until I’m cradling her neck, my thumb smoothing circles over her cheekbone.
“Three!”
Her eyes flutter.
“Two!”
Her chins dips.
“One!”
We’re cloaked in darkness for a split second before cell phone lights pop up sporadically.
Unlike at the bowling alley, it’s me who leans in first. Her lips part, inviting me in, and my tongue tastes her mouth. I kiss her fully and take advantage of the moment.
A better person might keep it tame, but I don’t know any other way to kiss Clover Walsh than the way I have dreamed of kissing her for years. Maybe since I was thirteen. Or honestly, much earlier than that.
