“I’ll tell my parents. It’s a bit dated, if you ask me.” He chuckles a little. “I want to show you something.”
“Okay.”
Dalton leads me down the hall and through a set of double doors. There’s a ten-person dining table that’s illuminated by a chandelier. In front of each chair is a beautiful set of plates and silverware.
“Is this where you have dinner?” I ask.
“We mostly save it for special occasions.” He shuts the doors behind us. “It’s my grandparents’ anniversary tomorrow so Mom’s setting things up early. What do you think of the napkins?”
I glance at the dining table. Each plate setting has a wine-colored napkin that’s folded into a triangle. But there’s one in front of me that’s shaped differently. Is this the thing he wanted to show me? I pick it up and say, “Is this supposed to be a swan?”
Dalton smiles. “Yeah. I actually folded it myself.”
“Wow, that’s amazing.”
“Thanks ... Your mom taught it to me.”
I look at him. “My mom?”
He nods. “It was a long time ago. She was cleaning one of our rooms and found me playing with one of the towel animals. When I told her how much I liked them, she offered to teach me how to make one.”
I’m not sure what to say. I stare down at the napkin, running my hand over its familiar folds. Mom used to do this for me, too, when I was younger. It was her way of bringing joy into our small apartment.
“I’m sorry about what happened,” Dalton adds. “She was a lovely person.”
I wasn’t sure if he knew about it. It makes sense, though. She had been working at the hotel for almost fifteen years. Everyone knew who she was. I set down the napkin before the memories flood again.
“Thank you. For showing me.” Then I turn back to face him. “And thanks again for the invite.”
“Don’t mention it. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
“Yeah.” I smile. “It’s nice to finally hang outside of school.”
“For sure. As much as Iloveworld history.”
We laugh a little. Dalton steps closer to me.
“And I don’t have to see you in the boring uniform,” he says, taking me in for the first time. He runs his finger over my sweater. “I like this on you. Where’s it from?”
“It’s vintage,” I answer.
“I can tell . . .”
We stare at each other. His blue eyes are shining from the glow of the chandelier. He’s standing so close, I can feel the warmth of him. I breathe in the clean scent of his cologne. As he leans forward, I realize that I am, too. Then our lips press together, and I feel his hands wrap around me. I wonder if he planned this. Asking me to follow him into the other room. My heart is racing in my chest. I can’t believe I’m kissing Dalton Claremont.
Someone calls his name from the hallway. Then we finally pull away from each other. I still feel the warmth from his lips ...
“We should probably head back,” he says.
“You are the host.”
Dalton smiles at me. Then we return to the living room together. We don’t bring up what happened as we join a groupof his friends. I listen to them talk about school and what they did over the break. But all I can think about is our kiss. It’s like our own secret.
I don’t stay for too much longer. There’s some work I have to do for class anyway. I say goodbye and make my way out. My heart is still pounding as I bike all the way back home.
Dalton and I start texting each other more. He has practice every day, so I don’t see him much outside of school. I’m also focused on my finals. But we start hanging out more in the summer. He comes by the café and waits until I get off work. We grab smoothies across the street and walk around the neighborhood. He shows me his favorite Italian place, where the waiters all know him and serve us wine without checking IDs. We visit a few free museums over the weekend. I show him the park near where I grew up and we kiss under the footbridge.
Of course, Dalton’s family has several trips planned. He spends a whole month in Europe, sending me photos from Lake Como and a wedding in Mallorca. Sadly, I’m stuck in Jersey. But I use the time productively. I work on college applications and complete my volunteer hours for the Honor Society. I’m also working on an article that’s being published in the school newspaper.
