Autumn's Kiss (15 page)

“I hope that's helping you,” J.J. says, “ 'cause it's killing me.”

That makes me sing even louder.

J.J. wasn't kidding—he really does know a million random dives, each with amazing food. It's like a greasy-drippy-yummy culinary tour of southern Florida. We only get teeny bits at each place because we don't want to be too full for the next one. We hit up a Cuban restaurant an hour away for
pionono,
this mix of plantains and ground beef and raisins and cheese and I-can't-even-deal-with-how-good-it-is. We drive another hour for cannoli at some tiny strip-mall diner. Another forty-five minutes away there's a burger with egg and avocado and bacon on it that we have to try….

It's seriously ridiculous, but it's fun. And every time we go into a new place, J.J. or I come up with new identities for ourselves, like we're undercover for the health inspector and have to ask all kinds of questions about vermin and take notes and nod inscrutably a lot. Or we're cousins of the British royal family—speaking with accents, of course—slumming on a getaway from all our lordly and lady-ly responsibilities. Or we sit really close and keep asking specific questions about the food I can eat, “for the baby.”

By the time we hit our last stop, it's eleven at night. I texted Mom; she knows I'm with J.J., so she's not worried. We're at an ice-cream place that not only has waffle cones but also has
flavored
waffle cones. I can't decide which I want, so I say we'll each order a different one and share. I get chocolate chip filled with rocky road ice cream and hot fudge. J.J. gets snickerdoodle filled with butter pecan ice cream and caramel sauce. His wins. He lets me switch with him, but we're so full we can only take a few bites even though it's amazing.

The place is at the ocean, but there's no beach—just a rocky hill leading down to the water and a boardwalk that stretches over it. There aren't any rides or booths or anything on the boardwalk. It's literally just a place to walk and look out over the water, with some benches and a few lights. We walk out there when we're done eating.

“The waitress did not believe we were Cirque du Soleil,” J.J. says.

“She totally did!” I shoot back.

J.J. just gives me a look.

“What?” I balk. “I could so easily pass for a Cirque du Soleil contortionist.”

“You don't contort,” he says.

I think about how awesome it would be if I right then and there stood on one foot and pulled the other around my neck. The problem is I can't, and if I tried I'd fall and get splinters in my face. “I can cartwheel,” I say.

“
I
can cartwheel,” he says.

“You cannot cartwheel.”

“I absolutely cartwheel!”

“I want to see you cartwheel,” I challenge him.

“Right here?” he asks. “I usually like a mat or a rubber floor…maybe a pommel horse.”

“You do not cartwheel,” I maintain.

He sighs heavily, then starts running full-speed down the boardwalk. I can't believe it. He's really going to turn a cartwheel.

Then he stops short. “I don't cartwheel.”

“I knew it! Liar!” I catch up with him and bask in my triumphant glow as we keep walking.

“You still haven't proven
you
can cartwheel,” he says.

“I don't have to prove it,” I say. “
I'm
not a liar.”

“I only lie about things that are unimportant. The important stuff is always real.”

“Important stuff like your high score in Scrabble?”

“Important stuff like how I feel about you.”

He doesn't stop walking when he says it. There's no dramatic moment when he looks me in the eyes and puts his hand on my cheek. He just says it. And keeps walking. And I do too, right next to him. And I feel good all over because I know he doesn't have to make a big deal about it because it's not something earth-shattering and unexpected and will-he-or-won't-he like with Sean. It's just a fact.

J.J. loves me.

And I love him.

Not in the same way. At least, I don't
think
it's in the same way. I'm not in his head; I don't know how he feels when he looks at me. But when I look at
him
there are no fireworks. There's no flop in my stomach, or that constant electricity of space between our skin. What there is…is comfort. And happiness. And yeah, love. I love him. He's the best friend I've ever had. Not even Jenna would drop everything for me the way J.J. does.

So even though Sean's kind of love is exciting and life-altering…J.J.'s kind of love doesn't hurt. And maybe that's better.

We're so close to each other as we walk, it doesn't take much for me to reach out and twine my hand with J.J.'s. I peek out the corner of my eye. I expect him to be smiling, but he's not.

“What's wrong?” I ask.

He stops walking and turns toward me, still holding my hand. He looks at our locked fingers, then into my eyes.

“I don't want you to do something just because you're upset about Sean,” he says. “That's not how I want this to be.”

“I know,” I say. “And it's not. What Sean did just showed me what I should have seen all along.”

J.J. squeezes my hand. His pale face is even paler in the boardwalk lights. He looks small all of a sudden—like the dogs at Mom's shelter that have been abused and are worried about trying to make human friends. I've never seen him like this before, and I'm kind of amazed that it's because of me.

He laughs, but it's shaky. “I would love to believe what you're saying, Autumn, but—”

I cut him off with a kiss. He resists for a second, then wraps his arms around me and kisses me back like he's been waiting to do it forever.

“Blaine is out, Duckie is in!” Jenna cheers.

It's the middle of the night Saturday—or I guess super-early Sunday. I texted Jenna until she woke up so we could talk. She's still in Vermont, but she told me no one was sleeping in her cousins' basement, so I could use the map to meet her there. She described it pretty specifically so the map wouldn't mess up and land me anywhere else in the house. We were both nervous about it, but it worked perfectly.

“What was it like when he kissed you?” she asks. “Was it amazing?”

“It was good!”

Jenna winces. “Good” isn't the same as “amazing.” I know it, but I'm not going to lie to her. “I mean, it's not like there were any technical problems. He's a perfectly adequate kisser.”

“Ooooh, ‘perfectly adequate,' ” Jenna echoes. “Dreamy.”

“I'm just saying, it's not like he's bad at it! He's fine. It was nice.”

“Autumn, it's not supposed to be ‘nice.' It's supposed to be melting into heaven. It's supposed to make you forget your name. It's supposed to take your breath away and leave you desperate for more.”

“I know,” I say. “That's how it was with Sean. Remember how that turned out?”

I'd already told her the whole story.

“Right, but that means Sean's a jerk, not that any guy you're crazy about is a jerk.”

“Why are you giving me a hard time about this? You wanted me with Duckie.”

“I did. I
do
,” Jenna says, “but only if it's right. If you're not attracted to him and you only like him as a friend, that sucks for both of you.”

“It's fine,” I assure her. “It's great. No, he doesn't make me feel the way Sean did, but maybe he will. It just takes time.”

Jenna looks dubious, but she's willing to trust me. “Did you tell Sean?”

“I texted him,” I say.

“You
texted
him?” Jenna bursts.

“He
cheated
on me, remember? I did him a favor. I texted him that it's over—that's all I said. And I blocked his phone and his email. Now he can spend the rest of his vacation sliming all over Reenzie without worrying how he's going to tell me. Or
not
tell me, because I bet he wouldn't have.”

“Reenzie would,” Jenna says.

“Yeah, you're right,” I agree. “If I didn't have the map, that's how I would have found out. Reenzie would have come into school crowing. She probably still will. Crowing and preening and hanging all over Sean…”

I'm getting furious just picturing it in my head, until I notice Jenna arching an eyebrow.

“What?” I ask her.

“You're pretty upset for someone with a new boyfriend,” she says.

“Of course I'm upset! I told you, it'll take time for my brain to make the shift. But it will. I deserve someone like J.J. He's a million times better for me than Sean.”

“Agreed,” says Jenna. “If you like him as more than a friend.”

It's a conversation that keeps going in circles, and I'm tired. I thank Jenna for listening, then write myself home and go to bed.

Sunday is great. J.J. and I hang out and it's just like always. I mean, honestly, is there
that
big a difference between being just friends and going out? Not really. J.J. and I have always had a great time together. Now we just hold hands a lot while we're doing it. Or he'll put his arm around me. No, I don't automatically lean against him and get all dreamy the way I did when Sean put his arm around me, but so what? It's not like I
mind
it. And kissing J.J. is nice too. I don't want to spend hours doing it the way I felt like I could with Sean, but who has hours to spend kissing? With J.J. we kiss, and then we move on and do something else more fun.

Equally fun. Whatever. It's fine. It's good. And by Sunday night Taylor and Jack are back in town and even though they both say they have whiplash from the sudden change, they're also both totally excited for us and say they always knew it would happen. That night we all watch
The Princess Bride,
which I'd never seen. Hysterically funny, but the crazy part was in the beginning, where Westley the farm boy always says “As you wish” to Buttercup. I smack J.J. on the arm. “That's what you always say to me!” I exclaim. “I thought you were all original, but it's from a movie!”

Then two minutes later, the grandpa in the movie says something like, “Buttercup was amazed to discover that when he was saying, ‘As you wish,' what he meant was, ‘I love you.' ” Then J.J. says right along with the guy, “And even more amazing was the day she realized she truly loved him back.”

He looks at me then like he couldn't possibly be any happier, and I am so blown away I kiss him right there in front of Taylor and Jack. I mean, how adorable is that? So Jack pretends to retch and Taylor gives us an “awwww,” and I cuddle even closer to J.J. for the rest of the movie.

Sunday night, I'm lying in bed when my eyes snap open. It's midnight, which is exactly when Sean's getting back in town. I wonder if he'll try to call me. I wonder if he
has
tried to call me. I wouldn't know with the block on. Did he even bother, or was he relieved? Reenzie I'm sure was relieved. She probably spent the rest of the trip comforting him in his time of desperate need.

Spare me.

I make sure I look really good for school on Monday so Sean can regret what he gave up, especially when he sees me looking so good
and
with J.J. I hear J.J. pull up and beep. He's a little early, but that's probably because he hopes we'll get in some kissing before school starts. I'm cool with that, but maybe I can convince him to use the time to swing by and get a blueberry muffin from the bakery instead.

I fling open the door, ready to ask for an anagram of “morning blueberry muffin,” but J.J. isn't there.

It's Sean.

Every muscle in his body is clenched, which has the beautiful effect of making each cut line in his arms and legs stand out. His blue eyes look fierce.

I want to throw myself on him and kiss him right now.

I don't, though. He blew his chance for that. I stand tall and aloof and keep my voice cool. “Hi, Sean.”

“What the hell, Autumn?” he asks.

“I can't talk right now,” I say. “J.J.'s picking me up and—”

“He's not,” Sean says. “I called him. He said he ‘agrees we need to talk.' What's going on? Why do I get a breakup
text
from you, and then I hear from Reenzie who hears from Taylor that you're going out with
J.J.
???”

Ooh. Didn't think about that part. Of course Taylor would say something to Reenzie, and of course she'd tell Sean.

So fine. He knows. Let him know. Let him understand we can both find other people who want us.

“Yeah, it's true,” I say. “I broke up with you because…”

I'm dying to tell him what I know. Just lay it out there in detail so he can't squirm out of it. But there's no way to do it without saying stuff I just can't.

“I had a feeling,” I say instead. “I felt like you were lying to me. And you want to know the truth? It hurt so bad I couldn't even deal, and J.J. was the one who helped me get through it, and
that's
why we're together now.”

“A
feeling
?” Sean asks incredulously. “You got so upset from a
feeling
that you broke up with me, wouldn't
talk
to me, and started going out with someone else?”

Okay, yeah, that sounds psychotic. If it had really been just a feeling, I would have called or reached out or something. But I was totally justified in doing what I did, and he needs to know it.

“It was more than a feeling,” I say. “It was like I could see it. You and Reenzie. Friday night. In your room in Pensacola.” I can see it in my head as I speak, and it's like living it all over again. I'm so hurt and furious I feel myself starting to cry, but I keep talking. “You were kissing her. More than kissing her. I can't tell you how I knew but I
knew
it was happening, Sean.”

Sean isn't clenched anymore. He's stunned, and a little freaked out. He even backs away from me a little.

Fine. Let him think that I'm freakishly psychic. At least it means he has to own up to it. The more he reacts, the more steely I get inside. I throw a question at him like a dart. “I'm right, aren't I?”

I expect Sean to fall apart. Cry a little maybe. Plead for my forgiveness. Admit he's a liar who's been playing Reenzie and me all along.

Instead he tenses up again. His words are clipped when he speaks.

“Reenzie told you.”

“What? No, she didn't.”

“Come on. You're not psychic, Autumn. Of course she told you. Yeah, it happened. Friday night, just like you said. We were hanging out with my brothers and her brothers and we got stupid and had some stuff to drink, and we went back to my room and hooked up. She spent the whole night in my room. Did she tell you that?”

I flinch away. I was wrong. I don't want to hear Sean admit any of this. I just want him to go away. But he keeps going.

“And you know what happened first thing in the morning?”

“I don't need to know what happened first thing in the morning,” I say dully.

“I threw up.”

“Because you drank too much.”

“Because I was sick about what I did to you,” he says. “Because I care about you. Because I want to be with
you
, and not Reenzie. Which is what I told her.”

All the steel inside me is gone. I feel completely unhusked and so unsteady I might blow away.

“I didn't know,” I say softly.

“You would've. If you'd answered my calls. Or my texts.”

His eyes are so angry I don't want to look at them, but I can't look away. “I blocked you,” I admit.

He grabs the lower half of his face and squeezes, then pulls down, like he has enough energy to hit something and doesn't know how to channel it. “Stupid,” he says, and I don't know if he means himself or me. “I should have thought of that. The phone said the texts went through.” His eyes are watery now. He's hurt, and I'd do anything to take that away.