26 Kisses (20 page)

Killian.

“I’m sorry.” I push Ian away and smooth down my hair. “You’re awesome, Ian, but I really don’t think we should.”

He stares at me disbelievingly. I’m sure no girl has ever turned him down before. Finally he lets all his breath out in a huff and shrugs. “Okay, whatever you want.”

I drive him home and let him kiss me again as we sit in his driveway. “This was the best date I’ve ever been on,” he says. “Call me if you want to do it again. For real.” And the romance of the moment is only a little bit ruined by the enthusiastic high five he gives me as he gets out of the car.

Ian Swanson

In the car after the weirdest date ever

9/l0

Ryan spins around and starts running backward, coaxing me along. “Come on, Bentley!” he yells.

I glare at him and clench my fists, willing my aching legs to push forward just a little harder, a little faster. My heart hammers in my ears, and each breath burns my lungs. We’re supposed to run seven miles this morning, but I’m having a bad day and am probably going to have to stop and walk it out before we even hit five.

“Can’t.” I gasp, slowing down so I’m barely jogging, my feet dragging over the dirt path.

Ryan stops and waits for me to catch up to him, handing me a water bottle. I gulp gratefully, water spilling out over my lips and trailing down my chin. “Thanks.”

He takes the bottle back and neatly squirts a jet of water into his mouth. “You’ve got to step it up, man,” he says. “We’re four weeks away from the race.”

“I know,” I say, a little more forcefully than I had intended. “I’m trying.”

Ryan claps a hand on my shoulder. “I know you are,” he says. “You’re doing a great job.”

I shake my head and turn around. “I have to go back now if I’m going to walk most of the way. I don’t want to be late for work.”

Ryan looks longingly down the trail, his fingers tapping his thigh. I can see how much he wants to keep running, and I feel bad for slowing him down. “Go ahead,” I say. “I’ll be fine.”

He shakes his head. “No way. I’ll walk with you.”

“No, seriously.” I give him a little shove, and he pretends to fall, stumbling dramatically.

“God, careful,” he says, rubbing his shoulder.

“Run.” I point down the trail, and he hesitates for just a second more before obediently ducking his head and loping away like a caged animal finally free.

I’m halfway home before the stitch in my side disappears, and I stop at a gas station at the edge of town to buy a bottle of water. As I walk out, a familiar figure unfolds from the front seat of a giant SUV. I freeze, wondering if I can just step back inside and wait until he leaves, but it’s too late.

“Hey there, Veda.” He beckons me over.

“Hi, Dad.” I take a giant swig from my water bottle as he runs his credit card through the machine and selects the option for premium gas.

“How’s it going? Are you ready for the reunion?”

Is that this weekend? I try to visualize the calendar on the kitchen wall where I know I wrote the dates of Dad’s all-important family events. But now that I think about it, the stupid thing might still be turned to June, even though we’re well into July.

“Uh, yeah. Totally ready.” I wipe my forehead. “When is it, exactly?”

Dad sighs and gives me a little bit of a death glare. “Well, Kaylee’s birthday is the day before, so you and Jeffrey were going to come over for dinner. We have to leave for the reunion pretty early the next morning, so it would be best if you two could spend the night.”

“Um, no thanks.” I haven’t slept over at Dad and Lila’s house since I got the right to decide who I spend my weekends with. I have my own room there, decorated in white and deep pink, but I don’t think I’ve set foot in it since I cleared all my “Dad’s weekend” clothes out of the closet and slammed the door behind me the day after my sixteenth birthday. “Can’t you just pick us up in the morning?”

Dad turns away and pulls the nozzle out of the gas tank, replacing it with a clang. “I guess.” He prints the receipt and checks it over closely. “Where are you going now? Do you need a ride?” he asks.

“No, I’m good.” We look at each other, and the awkward silence ticks on for a few more seconds than necessary. “Well, see you later.” I turn and walk toward the road.

“Friday,” Dad calls. “Six o’clock.”

I barely have time to shower and get ready before Mel picks me up for work. She’s practically bouncing in her seat as I climb into the car, wincing with every movement.

“Guess what,” she says.

“What?” I nibble on a half-defrosted bagel.

“There’s a beach party this weekend. It’s apparently going to be, like, the biggest thing ever. Total kiss potential.”

“Oh, dang.” I make an effort to sound disappointed. “I have to do all this stuff with my dad this weekend. I probably won’t be able to make it.”

Mel gasps dramatically, as if I had just told her I was moving away to Alaska. “What? Vee! No! You have to go to this party.”

I groan. “Mel, honestly, I’m kind of burned out on kisses. I can’t help but creep on every guy I see to find out what letter his name starts with. It’s disturbing.”

She waves her hand dismissively. “Whatever. You’re almost at
K
! You can’t stop before then.”

I shade my eyes with my hand. “Did you ever consider maybe Killian doesn’t
want
to be kissed?” I say, my voice flat.

“What?” Mel sounds shocked. “Does he have a girlfriend?”

“No.”

“Well.” She laughs. “Then he wants you to kiss him. Trust me.”

She sounds so confident, I almost tell her about how Killian already made a move but I shot him down, and that things have been weird ever since. But I don’t, because I’m still not sure how I feel about the whole thing, and lately whenever Mel sticks her nose into my relationship business, things just seem to get an awful lot more complicated.

Killian and I work in silence for most of the morning, communicating primarily in grunts and hand signals. We’ve been working together long enough to get a routine down, going through the motions on autopilot. I feel Mel watching us out the office window and avoid making eye contact with her.

Finally, after our third trip back from the canoe launch, Killian runs his hand through his hair and takes a deep breath. “Okay, Vee. I can’t take it anymore.” He hops off the trailer and falls dramatically to his knees, clasping his hands. “I’m sorry for trying to put my arm around you and making things awkward, and I promise I’ll never do it again if we can just go back to the way we were.”

Relief floods through me, mixed with just a tiny bit of disappointment. All he wants to do is go back to the way things
were
?

“How were we?”

His eyebrows arch in surprise. “We were friends.”

I nod and reach down to pull him to his feet. “We’re still friends.”

“Okay, good.” He heaves an exaggerated sigh of relief, his whole body relaxing. “Because I read this fascinating article about all the different varieties of really intensely hot chili peppers a couple of days ago, and I’ve been dying to tell you about it.”

I smile and motion down to the water, where a group of people has just landed at the end of their float. Killian’s voice washes over me as we each grab the end of a canoe and tip it upside down to dump out the murky river water, then carry it back up to the trailer and load it on. It’s like the floodgates have opened up inside him, and he can’t stop the flow of conversation. Killian strides happily across the pine needle–covered ground for the rest of the afternoon. I’m happy to be wrapped back up in the cocoon of his words.

Mel runs outside at the end of the day and grabs my hand. “You two look like you’ve been having fun,” she whispers in my ear. “I told you so. Invite him to the party.”

“What’s the point of inviting him to a party I’m not going to?” I look around to make sure Killian isn’t within earshot.

“It doesn’t even start until, like, ten on Friday night, Vee. What are you going to be doing with your dad then?” Mel nudges me, watching as Killian reaches up to secure a canoe strapped on the top rack of the trailer. His shirt rises, revealing the tan abs I’ve been trying to ignore all summer, and I feel my resolve weaken.

“Well, maybe I can come,” I say. “But that day is Kaylee’s birthday. I still have to get her a present, and I’m definitely going to have to go over to my dad’s house for dinner that night—”

“Just figure it out.” Mel pokes me in the side. “I’m heading to Seth’s now, but I’m refusing to take you with me, so you have to ask Killian for a ride. It’ll be the perfect chance to invite him.”

“Mel—” I reach for her, but she dances away and hurries toward the parking lot, taunting me by jingling her keys as she goes.

“Looks like your ride is leaving,” Killian calls.

“Yep.” I shoot Mel a death glare before turning back to him. “Can I catch one with you?”

“Of course.” He brushes off his hands. “Ready?”

“Let’s go.”

I try not to let the dashboard lyrics distract me, but when Killian pulls off the tarp, I find myself reading through them again, mesmerized by the disjointed phrases and metallic ink.

“Do you want to add something?” His voice jolts me out of my reverie, and he tosses a silver Sharpie into my lap.

“Uh, no. I’m good.” What would I write?

“Yeah, it’s a lot of pressure,” he says, nodding solemnly. “Your words immortalized forever on the dashboard of a shitty Jeep.”

“Oh, shut up.” I drop the Sharpie into a cup holder. “I just don’t have the lyrics to hundreds of songs filed away in my head like some people. Give me a few days to think it over, do some research.”

“Nope.” Killian flips down the sun visor as we turn into Butterfield. “That was your one and only chance, and now it’s gone forever. Sorry, counselor. Sometimes you have to think on your feet.”

Main Street is clogged with traffic once again, and we crawl along, stopping at nearly every crosswalk to let clumps of tourists hurry across the street. As we near the edge of downtown, an SUV backs out from its street parking space, holding us up for another few seconds.

“Hey, pull in there,” I say as the SUV rumbles away.

Killian doesn’t even blink, just spins the steering wheel and glides the Jeep smoothly into the narrow spot. I’m halfway out of the car before he even throws the gearshift into park. “Come on,” I say, one hand on my hip. “Let’s see how good
you
are at thinking fast.”