Autumn's Kiss (12 page)

“Sorry,” the man at the counter says. “This is the only one left and it's reserved.”

“I know,” Sean says. “I reserved it.” He pulls out his ID and a credit card. The guy looks it over, then leads us to the dock. As we climb into the boat and the guy unhooks it, I wish I'd worn a hat. I'm going to get seriously charred on the water without one. Or maybe not—I can't imagine we'll be out here very long once I tell Sean off.

I try to keep my head of steam, I really do, but the boat keeps rocking, and Sean pedals faster than my legs can keep up, so mine are spinning like a cartoon character's, and the boat is rocking and even the ducks look nervous for us…so I start laughing. Sean laughs too, and we're so concentrated on getting our legs in sync and moving the boat forward that there's no way I can talk to him about anything except what we're doing.

Sean stops pedaling when we get to the middle of the lake. The sun sparkles off the water. The shore seems forever away. There are other boats around, but they're not close. We're all alone in the middle of the water, and everything is beautiful. When I turn to look at Sean, he looks brighter and clearer too, like the day has outlined him in bold.

“Why did you stop?” I ask.

“The ducks are hungry.”

He reaches for his backpack and pulls out a ziplock bag full of bread slices. He hands me a piece, and we toss the bits into the water. Ducks zoom over to us from everywhere, cruising through the water like mini-speedboats. They huddle around our boat quacking insistently, and we dole out the bread as quickly as we can. One brave duck even jumps on the back deck of the boat, and Sean laughs when I scream.

“There's too many!” I laugh. “We have to get away!”

We pedal out some more, farther into the lake and down one of its branches. The waterway isn't as wide here, and tree branches hang their leaves over us like a canopy. Sean stops pedaling again.

“Too much exercise for the star quarterback?” I ask.

“Not enough food for the star quarterback,” he corrects me. “But I brought snacks.”

He reaches into his backpack again and pulls out snap-seal containers of cheese, crackers, and olives.

I peek into the backpack. “What else do you have in there, a table and chairs?”

“Lemonade,” he says, pulling out a screw-top bottle. “But no cups. We have to share.” He unscrews the top and takes a swig, then hands it to me.

“Classy,” I say, and take a swig myself.

“Star quarterbacks are totally known for their class,” he says. “So…you said you wanted to talk.”

I don't really. It's much nicer sitting in the pedal boat on this beautiful branch of a lake snacking with Sean and pretending he might be in love with me. But I know better. I can't quite bring myself to deliver my amazing speech that would kick him in the stomach. It's too nice being here with him; plus, I'll kind of need him to pedal me back to the dock afterward.

“It's no big deal,” I play it off. “I just noticed you and Reenzie disappeared at the beach last night.”

“Yeah,” he says. “I had to talk to her about some things.”

“Oh really?” I ask. “Anything…interesting?”

“Yeah,” he says again. “I had to tell her this.”

He leans over and kisses me, and everything else disappears into the place where our lips connect. I'm so swimmy I think I'm falling into the water. When he pulls away, I'm breathless, but I realize I need to clarify something.

“When you say you had to tell her that,” I ask, “do you mean you had to tell her
that
or that you were going to do that with me?”

Sean's face is still just an inch from mine. When he talks, I feel his breath against my skin. “That I was going to do that with you.”

“That you were going to do…
what
with me again?”

Sean smiles. He leans in and kisses me some more. This time I don't stop to ask any questions.

“You're sure you're okay with this?”

I'm in J.J.'s car on Monday and he's driving me to school. I gave him an out. I made him sit in front of the house with the car idling while I told him what happened with Sean and that Sean and I are officially together now. If J.J. wanted to, I wanted him to kick me out and drive to school alone.

He says he's okay, but I'm not positive he's telling the truth.

“You're sure?”

“As sure as I was the last six times you asked,” J.J. says.

“Yeah, but that's the thing. I'm not sure you were really sure when you said you were sure.”

“I'm sure.”

“You're sure you're sure?”

“What do you want me to say? Is it what I hoped you'd tell me? No. Do I think it's insane that anyone would even consider Reenzie when he has a chance with you? Yes. Do I think that in and of itself should have been a dealbreaker for you when it comes to Sean? Yes.”

“Okay, you seem to be having this conversation with yourself,” I say.

“But do I think Sean's a good guy?” J.J. continues. “Yes. Do I think that if he makes you happy and you want to be with him that I should be in your corner? Yes.”

“Thank you,” I say.

“Do I think that the fact you chose Sean over me puts your character in question and makes you a little less appealing as a prospective girlfriend? Yes.”

“Wait…what?”

“You want me to be okay with it, right?” J.J. asks. “That's one of the reasons I'm okay with it.”

“Okay,” I say. “I guess…”

“And do I think that when you're old and gray and thinking about your greatest regrets in life, you'll weep a little as you sadly tell your grandkids about ‘J.J., the One Who Got Away'?”

“Now you're just purposely being annoying,” I say.

“Yes.” He grins.

So J.J. seems honestly okay with it, which is good because he's still one of my best friends and I'd freak out if things got weird between us. I do hyperventilate a little when we get to school and meet up with our group and Reenzie links her arm through mine.

“Walk with me,” she says, and I have horrible visions of her tying a cement block to my ankles and throwing me to the bottom of the swimming pool. As we walk off, I cast a nervous glance over my shoulder at Taylor, J.J., Sean, and Jack. I hope that if I die, they'll tell my family I love them.

“I feel really stupid,” Reenzie admits when we get outside. “That stuff I told you at my party about Sean and I getting together…I completely misread him. I'm sorry.”

I couldn't be more surprised if she'd turned into a giant walking duck. Okay, maybe a little more surprised. But just a little.

“You don't have to apologize at all!” I assure her. “You were telling the truth. It's what you thought. I'm just sorry…I mean…I don't want to hurt your feelings…”

“…or risk my vengeance?” She smiles.

“Actually, weirdly, I wasn't even thinking of that,” I say, and I'm stunned that it's true. “It's just…you're my friend. I feel bad.”

“Don't. It's Sean. It's not like he's the love of my life. Him I'll find in college, but not until senior year, so we can move to the same city together but live in separate apartments while we do our early-twenties thing and see if it'll work. Probably it won't, but then we'll come back together for our five-year college reunion and realize we were totally meant for each other all along. You'll be one of my bridesmaids. Sean will be a groomsman. You won't still be together then—sorry—but you'll totally have a wedding fling.”

The really amazing thing is I know she's not joking. She really has figured this all out.

Then she gasps and grabs my arm tightly. “Oh my God.”

I follow her gaze. We're rarely around this side of the school in the morning, but apparently this is where Denny and Ames like to hang out before classes these days. They're sitting on a wood bench…or at least Amalita's sitting. Denny's on his back with his knees bent, feet on the bench, and his head lying in Ames's lap. They're talking in low, sweet voices as Ames runs one hand through Denny's hair.

That's all fine. It's couple stuff, whatever. That's not the thing that made Reenzie gasp.

What made her gasp is Ames.

Amalita Leibowitz is a girl who loves cosmetics. Cosmetics, as I found out the day she and I first met, are in fact her Thing. She can't make it through a day without buying some new item, even if it's just a tiny sampler lip gloss. She layers her skin in cleansers, toners, hydrators, sunscreens, concealers, finishers, foundations, glosses, blushes, liners, shadows, and mascaras, not like a preschooler playing dress-up but like Vincent van Gogh applying layer after layer of paint until he'd achieved a masterpiece.

Today Amalita is naked.

Oh, she's wearing clothes, but her face is without a stitch of makeup.

“I don't believe it,” I gasp to Reenzie.

She strides over to them, still holding me firmly by the arm. I really don't trust her to say anything subtly, so I start things off. “Hey, Ames! Hi, Denny!”

Denny peers up at me and sneers. Not his fault—I forgot for a second how weird I was the first time he saw me. Then he takes in Reenzie and smiles. He gives me a retroactive friendly “Hey!” then adds, “And if it isn't Marina Tresca.”

Everyone knows Reenzie. Even senior football stars who never hang out in the school unless they have to.

“What did you do to Ames?” Reenzie shoots back.

Yeah. The light touch isn't really Reenzie's thing.

“What are you talking about?” he says.

I expect Amalita to jump in and bite Reenzie's head off, probably in a long string of Spanish, but she doesn't.

“What is she talking about, baby?” Denny asks Ames.

“I don't know, baby,” she replies.

“I'm gonna throw up, baby,” Reenzie says to me.

I still can't believe what I heard.
“Baby?”
I echo.

“Amalita, come talk to us,” Reenzie says.

“Hey, if you have a problem with my girl Amalita, you can take it up with me,” Denny says.

I laugh out loud. Like Ames would ever let anyone else fight her battles. But she just sits there, still petting Denny's head.

“Where's your face?” Reenzie asks Ames.

“Unless you've gone blind, you're looking at it, Reenzie,” Ames says.

“You're not wearing any makeup,” I say.

“I told her I don't like her with makeup,” Denny says. “She's beautiful the way she is.”

He leans up and he and Amalita kiss; then Ames looks at Reenzie and me with smug satisfaction.

Now, here's the thing. I'm all for women not wearing makeup. Those pictures on the Internet of celebrities without makeup—Gwyneth Paltrow, Rihanna, Drew Barrymore—they're beautiful without any makeup at all. No one
needs
makeup to be beautiful, and Ames doesn't either. Denny's totally right. She's gorgeous without any makeup at all.

But she's not Amalita. And I'm all for people reinventing themselves too, so if this is her New Thing, great.

It's just so not her personality…I don't know…

“And why aren't you wearing any jewelry?” Reenzie asks. “And what are you wearing?”

“Why are you such a
culito
?” Ames shoots back, but I'm only just realizing that Reenzie's right. Ames isn't wearing a single bangle—no earrings, no rings, no necklaces. She could get off that bench right now and she wouldn't even jangle, which is unheard of. Ames is usually a walking symphony. And she always dresses to accentuate her curves, in tight-but-flattering dresses or tailored tops and shorts…but today—it's hard to tell because she's sitting with Denny on her lap—it looks like she's wearing olive flouncy capris and a big white peasant top. Cute, for sure, but way more conservative than her usual style.

The bell rings for class. Denny gets up and Ames does the same. She barely comes up to his chest. When he wraps his arm around her, it's like he's cuddling a doll.

“I'm not going to fight with you,” he says to Reenzie, “but I'm not going to let anyone talk to my girlfriend that way. Just watch yourself.”

They walk off. Ames doesn't even look back at us, but she's all we talk about when the whole group of us is back together, sprawled on the lawn for lunch.

“I've been telling her for years she doesn't need makeup,” J.J. says. “How come she never listened to me?”

“You really need us to answer that?” Reenzie asks.

“You'd look beautiful without any makeup,” Sean says. He's lying on his side and I'm leaning against him.

“Aw, that's sweet,” I say, and give him a quick kiss. “But you're not touching my lip gloss or mascara.”

“And that is the proper answer,” Reenzie declares.

“I think girls are way hotter without makeup,” Jack says.

“You just insulted every girl here,” Taylor says. “Autumn, Reenzie, and I are all wearing makeup.”

“How is that an insult?” Jack balks. “I said you'd look hot without putting crap on your face.”

“I had your back until ‘crap on your face,' ” J.J. says. “You always find a way to mess it up.”

“The makeup isn't the point, though,” I say. “She stopped wearing it because Denny said he doesn't like it on her.”

“Right,” Taylor says. “Denny should like her the way she is: the makeup, the bracelets, the dresses…whoever she is, that's who he should like.”

“Because none of you have ever changed in any way for a guy,” J.J. says drily.

“Never,” Reenzie says.

“No!” I agree. “You shouldn't have to.”

“You're really gonna make me do this?” J.J. asks. “Autumn, how many football games did you go to before you liked Sean?”

I blush. “Totally different! Football games are a social event. I'd go to hang out with you guys even if Sean wasn't on the team.”

“Or how about girls wanting guys to change for them?” Jack said.

“Any girl who asks you to change, Jack, is doing you a huge favor,” Reenzie says.

“Ha-ha,” he shoots back. “Forget me, then. Superstar Sean. What do you like to do best on Sundays in the fall?”

“Watch football,” Sean says immediately.

“What did you do yesterday?” Jack asks.

Yesterday was the second day of Sean and I being back together. He came over to my place in the afternoon and we watched movies…which I'm sure Jack already knows.

“He still watched
one
football game,” I say. “He just didn't watch thirty!”

“Thirteen,” Sean mutters. “There's usually thirteen on a Sunday. Three time slots. And yeah…I watched one. Most of one.”

“Which was his
choice,
” I maintain. “I didn't make him.”

I have no idea what kind of face Sean is making behind me, but I'm sure it doesn't support my argument because J.J. and Jack start laughing. I swat Sean to get him back.

“I didn't make Leo change for me,” Taylor says. “I found a guy who likes the same things I like, so we can both just be totally ourselves.”

I'm drinking from my water bottle when she says it and I have to force down a spit-take.

We don't come to any kind of consensus about Amalita, but I don't like what I saw. I text her that night, but she doesn't answer, probably because Denny has her watching Monday Night Football…which I only know is on because I caved and agreed to watch it with Sean so he could try to make me a fan. I call Ames on Tuesday and Wednesday too. I email her, I text her…she doesn't answer.

She thinks she can avoid me, but she doesn't know about my secret weapon. On Thursday night I write
Amalita
across my map…

…and end up in Amalita's open closet, tangled in brightly colored dresses. Since the sliding door is wide open, I see Ames posing in front of her mirror. She's wearing a clingy purple dress, a ton of jewelry, and now leans close to the glass to put a final layer of mascara on her professional-quality lacquered face.