His Kiss (10 page)

“Branch out,” she said. “Try something besides vanilla.”

I sulked. I liked vanilla. I was comfortable with vanilla. Sure new, exciting flavors were tempting—alluring beyond belief—but I was pretty sure they’d give me nothing but a bellyache.
And a toothache.
And most definitely
a heartache
. ‘Cause that’s what The Griff was—a heartache waiting to happen. He didn’t have “girlfriends” he didn’t even have “dates.” He just stirred up a girl’s heart with his seductive eyes and sultry lips, and his hot, sexy singing voice. Then he did to her heart the same thing he did on the hockey rink—Tore. It. Up.

I didn’t want a guy like that. I wanted to stay clear of guys like that. I liked sensitive, caring guys—like Aiden. Guys I could hold hands with, write songs with. I missed that so much—writing with Aiden.

I sighed, feeling sad anew. Kendra had said Aiden and Milo were the same, but they weren’t. Milo could sing, yeah—he had a nice voice—but he had no interest in writing songs and he kind of made me feel like a freak when I told him how much I liked to write them.

I sighed again because those things had nothing to do with why Kendra was looking at me the way she was. She wanted to know why I didn’t embrace sparks.

“Griffin and I don’t have anything in common,” I grumbled. “I have a lot in common with vanilla.”

“Like what?” Kendra sort of sneered—but not in a mean way exactly, more in a
Get Real
way. “Besides Aiden being a girl and you being a girl, what else did you have in common?”

Ugh! She was only messing around about Aiden being a girl, I knew that, but I hated people making fun of Aiden—his being emotional and sensitive and everything. Even now that he had broken my heart I was tempted to stick up for him. But I didn’t. I bit my lips together, resisting the urge. Aiden wasn’t mine anymore. He was going to have to fight his own battles. I needed to release him.

Instead of defending him, finally I said, “Aiden and I used to write songs together. I loved that.” I slunk down in my seat feeling like I might cry. “I miss that.”

I really did. I missed that more than anything—having that connection with a guy, a devoted interest in something we both loved and could work on
together,
be partners with.

Kendra didn’t say anything else. I think she felt sorry for me.

***

Only a week after backing Mom’s car into the 7-Eleven dumpster I missed the after school late bus. I don’t know how it happened, exactly. I’d had to stay after school to take a make-up test for French because I had missed class due to a dentist appointment, but when I finished the make-up test I still had a lot of time left before the late bus was supposed to come, so I went into the library to work on this song I was writing called, “No More Writing Songs Together,” and I guess I lost track of time.

When I realized how late it was I scrambled toward the library exit and was almost out the door before I realized I forgot my song-journal behind. I had to turn around and go back for it … and then I missed the bus.

The crazy thing was—this wasn’t even my first time to forget the journal. Well, okay, this particular one I hadn’t ever forgotten. But, of course, I’d filled up hundreds of them since I started keeping one. A few years ago I had forgot one in the school cafeteria. Or it might have been in a class.
Or the school bus.
Actually, I had no idea where I’d left it. But it turned up missing and I searched my house for it for days—weeks. Then it showed up—in the mail! Someone sent it back to me. The freaky thing was though: it didn’t have my name in it—anywhere. So, how did the person know it was mine?

I had no idea, but realizing someone had found it—and probably read it—was creepy enough. But somehow they had known it was mine and where I lived, but they didn’t let me know who they were. They sent it back without a note or a return address or anything. It gave me the shivers just thinking about it.

But after that, for years, I was always cautious with my notebook—making sure I had it at all times and that I didn’t accidently leave it around anywhere or forget it. But d’oh! Today I almost
did
forget it. I came so close it made me shudder.

When I realized I missed the late bus, I consoled myself thinking, “Well, at least I’ve got my notebook.”

Seriously. I was able to console myself with that—even though the day was cold and drizzly and I had a six-mile walk ahead of me.

But I barely made it off the school grounds before Griffin’s red Mustang pulled up beside me. When I saw it, my heart got all fluttery and violent and I almost tripped over my own feet.

He opened his window. “Need a ride?”

My pulse raced hearing his offer and seeing his adorable, boyish grin. Little did he know but I’d secretly left him a huge cookie again—at his locker during third period this morning and I’d written him another anonymous poem to go with it. This time the poem was about his kiss. But I’d made it really vague again, so he wouldn’t have a clue it was from me.

“Um …” I tried ignoring the small voice at the back of my head that was screaming,
“Stick with vanilla, Ally! You need vanilla. This flavor will only give you cavities!”

I smiled. “Sure! That would be great!”

As I rounded the car to climb into the passenger seat I tried reasoning with the voice. After all, it was cold and rainy out.
I’m only accepting the ride to get out of the wet,
I told myself.

It seemed perfectly reasonable. Right?

As I buckled up my seatbelt the weather took a turn for the worse. It started drizzling harder, practically raining. Like it was a sign—I was
supposed
to be in Griffin’s car. It made me smile. Only,
right then
, Griffin reached out to flip on his windshield wipers and
right then
I remembered: Gummy bears!

Guh!

I’d slid a bunch of them under Griffin’s windshield wipers this morning. Why? I don’t know exactly. Just for fun, I guess. Mom had dropped me off at school after my dentist appointment and she had to write me a note so I could be excused for missing French class, so she pulled into the nearest parking spot to write the note and it was right next to Griffin’s Mustang. And so when I got out of Mom’s car and I was right there, next to Griffin’s prized possession, it seemed I had to do
something
.

At first I just had the impulse to write Griffin a quick, anonymous note or draw him a smiley face or something—something to tuck under his windshield wipers. But when I reached into my backpack, what I pulled out was my stash of gummy bears.

Seeing the colorful bears gave me an idea. After all, it was a drizzly, moist day and a note would get sad and soggy. But gummy bears—well, I figured gummy bears might get … pretty.

You never know.

So, giggling a little—‘cause I’m a lunatic—I put a handful (or two) of gummy bears under his windshield wipers, thinking the outcome might be kind of cool and beautiful. You know, add a little color to Griffin’s life, like his kiss had added to mine.

So, see, it was metaphoric.
Kind of.

But whoa.
To be sitting here with Griffin when he turned on his windshield wipers—that was something I hadn’t expected.

As he flipped them on I let out a little gasp but then quickly turned it into a cough and tried to look innocent even as a watery rainbow smeared across his windshield. Griffin tilted his head looking confused by the colors the wipers were producing. Each time they flipped a new rainbow spread across his windshield.

Griffin grinned, cocking his eyebrows. “What
the …?
”

I bit my lips together to keep a laugh from bursting out. The look on his face—so bewildered—it had me ready to roll on the floor laughing hysterically, but I tried my hardest to keep a straight face and look bewildered too.

‘Cause, well, I didn’t want him to know it was
me
. I just didn’t. Didn’t want him to know I had been thinking about him, and that I had put candy on his car.
Just because it was embarrassing.
‘Cause he already knew—knew I had a huge, stupid crush on him.

For a moment I almost let myself believe I was in the clear and got away with my stalker-girl trick.
My heart actually started to quiet slightly.

Only …

Just then I noticed my gummy bears bag was sticking out of my jacket pocket. D’oh! I quickly shoved it deep inside, trying to do it inconspicuously, hoping Griffin didn’t notice. Only, I’d been a spaz about it—‘cause yikes
!—
total evidence that I was the rainbow-producing prankster.

It had my heart all in an uproar. I snuck a quick sideways glance at Griffin. An amused grin played on his lips, but that could have still just been because of the rainbow on his windshield, so I wasn’t sure if he had noticed the bag in my pocket or not. It was hard to tell with Griffin. He seemed to be a casual, easy-going kind of guy, yet it seemed nothing got past him. Nothing. And it didn’t help that he always had a sardonic smirk on his face—like he knew a funny secret or joke or something and really wanted to share it, only he knew it would be totally inappropriate.

He always seemed like that. Like he had a wisecrack on the tip of his tongue. So, it was hard to read him.

Anyway, I didn’t want him to talk about the gummy bears, no way. If he said a word about them my cover would be blown. I’d turn all red and start stammering or laughing hysterically. Something. Totally give myself away. So, I couldn’t give him a chance to talk.

I flipped open my cell phone and immediately started talking on it, acting as though I’d just gotten a call.

“I’m on my way,” I said into the dead phone, and then I added in a grumbling voice, “I missed the bus.”

I went on talking more and more, feeling like a lunatic, chatting about the piano recital I’d been in last week; I wanted Griffin to know I was musical too, like him, but mostly I was anxious not to talk about gummy bears.

When I hung up, I smiled up at Griffin, all breezy, like my heart wasn’t about to pounce out of my chest.

“Thanks for the ride.” Surprisingly, my voice was calm and peppy, as though I accepted rides with bad-boys everyday and was just doing my usual. “Can you drop me off at my friend Jazz’s? She lives just up the block and to your right. She’s expecting me.”

I don’t know why I added that last part. It wasn’t like it was a threat—like
Jazz is expecting me and if I don’t show up within five minutes she’s going to send the police out looking for me.

I mean, I wasn’t afraid Griffin was going to
abduct
me or anything
. But then, he was a very tough guy and I didn’t really know him at all. It was almost like I’d accepted a ride with a stranger—one that I’d kissed three times now, and dreamed about constantly. Still, I didn’t know him. All I knew was he was trouble on the ice—and in school. Back in junior high, he and Jake used to get detention practically every day.

Still, I was embarrassed that I’d added the “She’s expecting me,” so I quickly tacked on, “We’re, um, doing a project together—for the school play. A fund raiser.”

We
were
doing all that—but not today. Today I was just going to show up at her house unexpectedly—and freak her out if she saw me pull up in Griffin’s car. More likely though, Destiny would see. She lived right across the street and she had this uncanny instinctual radar for Griffin and his car. She would totally freak if she saw me get out of it.

In the short time it took to get to Jazz’s house the sky had cleared and the sun even peeked out of the clouds a little.

“It’s supposed to be a nice night,” Griffin said, as though he’d noticed the sun too.

My voice cracked. “Yeah, I heard that.”

We were at Jazz’s curb now. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to leap out of his car or stay and try to have an actual conversation with him. The thought of conversing with The Griff was both terrifying and exciting at the same time. It had me sweating.