Three days camped out at the Salty Orange, drinking flat fountain soda, sucking on limes, and arguing with Bobby.
Three days, dancing around my mother.
Three days since I’d kissed Gale and sent him fleeing. Where had I gone wrong? I was not used to having that effect on people, nor did I usually care what others thought of me. It wasn’t like I was particularly sentimental.
But Gale was different.
Guilt and regret ate at me the longer I stewed over the encounter. The list of things I’d done wrong mounted. I remembered each one in vivid detail. The way I’d purposefully fallen over him in my attempt to escape the Jeep. The teasingway I’d played with the camera, insisting on taking his picture. His frantic pleas for me to stop and leave him alone.
And the kiss. I could still taste him on my lips and feel the buzz of him under my skin.
Had I misread him? Gale had been clearly upset, but he hadn’t thrown me off.
“He kissed me back.” I touched my lips.
Did he kiss me back?I wasn’t sure I trusted my memory any longer.
My phone buzzed, pulling me from inside my head. Bobby, who was clearing a nearby table, glanced in my direction, eyeing the phone before giving me a look that warned not to bring the police to his door again.
I pinched the bridge of my nose and drew the phone forward, checking the recent text from my mother. I’d been avoiding her like usual.
Will you be home for dinner?
Stella had changed tactics for the time being. The day I got home, she went overboard. Since my nerves were shot over Gale, I’d snapped and threatened to have her admitted to the fucking psych ward if she didn’t leave me the fuck alone. I made her cry, which I hated, but considering she’d only texted three times that day and it was midafternoon, I couldn’t regret my outburst.
My stress-induced reaction, coupled with her tears, compounded my guilt. Mom’s obsessions grew worse the more I avoided her. I knew this. I’d figured it out when I was sixteen. The less time I spent at home, the harder she worked to keep me there. It was attention-seeking behavior. Giving in wasn’t the answer, but I didn’t know what the answer was for a person like her. I couldn’t live at home my entire life. I would check myself into the ward at this rate.
Although the mere thought of spending time at home made me squirm, I texted back,Yeah. Around six? How about we order pizza?
She wouldn’t like the suggestion since it meant she couldn’t feed me, but offering to spend time togethershould, in theory, be more important.
I was right. She agreed to pizza.
I shoved my phone away, buried my face in my hands, and continued to worry over Gale and the line I’d crossed. His erection was not my imagination. I’d sat on his lap. I’d felt it dig into my ass. It alone confirmed that his negative reaction toward the kiss was not rooted in a misunderstanding over his sexuality.
“And he kissed me back. I know he kissed me back.”
His lips had parted. His tongue had snuck out and sought mine. He’d gripped my thighs.
“And he didn’t push me off.”
A thought struck. I sat straight as it dawned on me how stupid I’d been.
“Fuuuuck.” I slid down in the faux leather seat with a groan.
The seminary. At one point in his life, Gale had been in the seminary. He’d willingly given his life to God. Was it possible he’d sworn himself to celibacy? Catholic priests did that, didn’t they? It wasn’t a thing with all religions, but maybe it was part of his. Maybe, despite having left the seminary—for reasons I had yet to learn—he’d decided to remain celibate. Or he was one of those people who didn’t believe in sex before marriage and kissing and being intimate were sacred.
What if I’d pushed him across some sort of invisible spiritual line? I would bet any money he’d never kissed anyone before. Had I taken something he wasn’t willing to give? An erection wasn’t something you could control, and it certainly wasn’t a fucking invitation for me to assume he wanted to get frisky.
I didn’t think it was possible to feel worse about myself, but I did. Gale wasn’t some random guy I’d picked up at the bar or on an app. At no point did he indicate he was seeking more.
At six, I endured dinner with my mother, but once it was over, I escaped the house the second she was distracted. I didn’t know where to put myself, and since I hadn’t told the guys about my encounter with Gale, I had no one to talk to.
I drove aimlessly. Twice, I considered returning to the Salty Orange, but the crowd would be thicker at that time of night, and I wasn’t in the mood to be around people. At some point, I found myself unconsciously driving along a dirt road that led out of town. Not a random dirt road, but the one heading in the direction of Gale’s family farm.
At the end of the long driveway, I parked behind Gale’s neon green Jeep, wondering what I was doing and if I should turn around. A motion sensor light over the detached garage flicked on when I got out of the car, highlighting the mud along the Jeep’s doors and wheel wells from the other day. If there was damage from his slide into the ditch, I didn’t see it.
At some point, I’d come to a decision. Whether it was the right decision or not, I had no idea, but my conscience wouldn’t let me rest until I did something about my mistake. The least I could do was apologize for my behavior and ensure the guy was all right. It was bad enough remembering how upset he’d been, but if there was a chance I’d violated his moral code—or whatever it was called—then I might never forgive myself.
