Zach’s eyes hold mine and I don’t want to let go. “I likeyours,” he says.
“No,” I say, shaking my head now, my voice thick with conviction. “I’m not being nice. Your hair has character.”
“I like your hair,” he says gently, like it’s too precious to say out loud. And when his hand reaches out to touch it, to roll some strands between his fingers, I hold my breath.
I lean a little bit closer; Zach leans a little bit closer.
Then he’s breathing on my lips. He kisses me slowly, a lock of my hair still between his fingers. And then he pauses, his lips still on mine, and when I open my eyes, he is frowning. It startles me because I’m used to him smiling.
He’s still frowning when we kiss again. And he draws it out, like he’s figuring something out, thinking and exploring. His hands haven’t left my hair; they’re all over it now, working their way in, carefully but confidently. With his hands in it, I believe it when he says he likes my hair.
My hands are inhishair, which is surprisingly soft.
“Zach!” We jump apart at Raj’s voice. Luckily, it’s coming from the top of the basement stairs.
“Um, down here,” Zach says, patting himself up and down. I stand and run a hand through my hair, smooth down my dress, but then I realize Zach has also stood up and is smoothing outhishair. So we both sit down. Too quickly.Guilty.
“Hi, Raj,” I say.
“Hey, man,” Zach says.
Raj squints at his friend. “You’re mad I’m late? I had to wait for the car. Plus, my mom was making rajma because my cousins are coming over tomorrow, and I needed to taste it.”
“No, not mad,” Zach says casually, throwing the remote control up once in his hand.
Raj looks between the two of us, squinting still. I’m not sure what he sees, but he flops onto the beanbag chair near the wall and sighs.
BEFORE
Mid-July
Even though I wasinit, I have no idea what happens in our movie.
Zach’s parents come down for its “world premiere,” and they laugh and cringe and react with Kevin and Raj. Afterward, we put on a bunch of horrodies that Zach ordered off the Internet and no one has seen yet. My stomach is doing somersaults the entire time, just turning and turning, making knots inside me. Zach and I are suspiciously quiet throughout the evening, though he does a better job of hiding his distraction than I do. I hope being the new kid gives me a pass.
About eight, I get a text from my mom asking if I’m still at the address I gave her (Mom has a long-standing rule about leaving the address of where we are going on the fridge whiteboard) and whether she should come and pick me up. She knows now that my new friend is a boy and that he works at the video store. She knew Zach’s dad from getting movies there the past few years. Strangely, her reaction was to stare at me quietly for several seconds and say, “You seem happy.” And then I scrambled into my room before she could make any rules about me seeing him or ask for his Social Security number to run a background check. Her meeting Zach and his parents, though I don’t think she’d dislike them, is just not something I’m prepared to deal with tonight. So I explain to them that I have to head home and, since I’m riding my bike, want to beat the sunset.
“Do you drive, Addie?” Zach’s mother asks. She has gray hair and looks a little older than Zach’s dad. She has the warmest face, eyes that have a way of drawing you in, and an easy laugh. I can’t pick out whose exact smile Zach has, but I can see how if you put Mr. and Mrs. Laird’s together, you might get Zach’s.
“I have my permit, but my mom wants me to wait till seventeen to get a car.”
“Well, Zach can give you a ride,” she says.
“In his piece-of-shit car,” Kevin supplies.
“Kevin,” Mr. Laird warns.
“It’s okay, I enjoy riding,” I say.
“I’ll walk you out,” Zach says, jumping up.
Everyone calls goodbye but thankfully seems too invested in the movie Zach put in to notice anything out of the ordinary or to offer to come with us.
I’m freaking out as we silently take the steps up from the basement and then leave the house. I’m freaking out that Zach is going to decide it was all a big mistake and it shouldn’t have happened, because even though my lips are still buzzing, electricity zapping through them from before, I think I’ve already forgotten what it felt like to kiss him.
“Um,” Zach says after he’s watched me silently unlock my bike. “Thanks for being in the movie.”
“Thanks for letting me be in it. I had fun.”Oh God.Does it sound like goodbye? We have no other excuses to see each other.
