I know I should have kissed her by now, but I'm hesitating. I've kissed Kendra a thousand times before. She's an awesome kisser, and those lips are begging to be messed with. So what's my problem?
She feels the top of my buzz cut with her palm. "I hope you'll grow out your hair. I can't grab onto it now."
"We'll see."
"So noncommittal, aren't you." She laughs, then says, "I missed you, CB."
If she missed me so much, why do I have this strange feeling she's holding something back? Shit, I've got to stop playing mind games with myself and overanalyzing stuff. I know what'll make me stop thinking.
I put my hand on the back of Kendra's head and guide her mouth toward mine. As my lips touch hers, the scent of cherries from the glossy stuff is overpowering.
In a bad way.
My lips and tongue slide against hers, but all I can think about is that I hate cherries. I hate cherry pie, I hate cherries in my fruit cocktail or on top of a hot fudge sundae. I even hate Cherry Coke.
Kendra moans while our mouths are still meshed. Her tongue is working overtime and she twists her body so she's straddling me.
I open my eyes while we're kissing. My gaze focuses on Maggie Armstrong's room. Now not only do I have cherry lips attached to mine, I'm hoping Maggie Armstrong doesn't see me lip-locked and tongue-tied with Kendra.
Don't even ask me why I care.
I pull back and say, "Let's go inside."
Kendra slides off my lap, and we hold hands as I lead her to my bedroom. I wipe off my lips with the back of my hand, hoping the cherry flavor will disappear.
Kendra lies on my bed when we reach my room, not even hesitating or questioning why we're moving so fast after not being together for a year. "It's just like old times," she says.
Except somehow it doesn't feel as exciting or daring as it used to. Maybe it's because we're older now.
I take my shirt off, then slip into bed next to her. She starts kissing my chest. "Jeez, Caleb. Your pecs are huge."
With my forefinger I lightly wiggle her new, shiny bellybutton ring. "I guess we both changed, huh?"
"Let me investigate how much." She kisses her way down, past my chest and stops at the waistband of my jeans.
When she starts unbuttoning them, I put my hand over hers to stop her.
She looks up at me, confused. I don't blame her. I'm all screwed up in the head and need to take everything slower than before. I swear, a year ago I'd be jumping her bones before we even reached my room.
"What's wrong?" she says.
I shake my head, rub my hand over my hair, and take a deep breath. Fuck. I'm screwing everything up.
She rests her head on my shoulder and places her arm across my stomach. It feels real good and I'm glad she doesn't make me talk about it. Maybe she gets it, maybe she understands I can't verbalize my f**ked-up thoughts. But then she starts getting restless after a few minutes and sits up. "I should probably go back to the festival before my parents find out where I've gone."
In the end she doesn't understand. Just like everyone
else.
With a flip of her hair over her shoulders, she slips her shoes back on and stands up.
I convince myself things will get back to normal soon enough. I'm back home, I have my girl again. Okay, I'll admit things are strange between us. Her hair is fake, her lips taste different, and her kisses are frantic instead of sexy.
"I saw you talking to Samantha Hunter in the hall yesterday," she says, turning back and looking at me.
I sit up and lean against my headboard, still shirtless. "Yeah, she wanted to know if I'll wrestle this year."
Kendra blows out an annoyed breath. "You don't think she's cute, do you?"
I shrug. "She's all right, I guess."
"Because girls like that are totally manipulative."
"I'm not lookin at other girls, Kend, if that's what you're worried about."
"That's good." The corners of her mouth turn up, but then she bites down on her lower lip. "I'm glad you're back, but..."
"But what?" I ask.
"Can we keep this thing between us a secret, Caleb? The kids at school are expecting a big show between you and me, and I don't want it to get weird. Besides, my dad is up for election in November and he's already forbidden me to have any contact with you. It'll be best if nobody knows about this right now."
Her comments shouldn't surprise me, but they do. I just say, "That's cool," because, well, what else can I say?
Following Kendra out to her car, I wonder what our lives would have been like if I hadn't been locked up. I wouldn't have to keep our relationship a damn secret, that's for sure.
When we're in the front yard, Kendra climbs into her car. Then she opens her purse and pulls out a tube of lip gloss. Twisting the rearview mirror, she carefully glides on more cherry gloss, essentially erasing away our power make-out session. When her lips are as glossy as when she came here, she drives off.
Shaking my head, I head back inside. I spot the picture of Kendra when I get to my room. Removing it from my headboard, I stare at it.
It's hard keeping everything the same when the same things look and feel so different.
EIGHTEEN
Maggie
I'm wearing a long print dress that touches the ground and a powder blue sweater over it. Mom bought me the dress because she knows how I feel about exposing any part of my left leg. Deep down I know she also hopes boys will see me as Maggie Armstrong and not as the girl who got hit by Caleb Becker. Guess what, it's not going to happen.