Kiss and Repeat

by Heather Truett

  She narrowed her eyes. “Is this about middle school? I know you know I liked you in middle school, but come on, that was forever ago. This is not some bid to steal your heart. You want to kiss a bunch of girls. I’m a girl.”

  I shook my head and took another beer from her stash. It was against my better judgment to drink it, but I felt awkward and wanted to cover that up. And when she started talking about the experiment again, I was tingly and happy. The stars were so pretty. I lay on my back to stare at them, and Erin lay beside me.

  “You think I’m ugly?” Erin asked.

  I rolled onto my side and looked at her. “No. That’s not it.”

  “Then kiss me, Stephen. Let’s see if it works. You’ve kicked me twice since I lay down here. I’m sort of curious myself now.”

  My face pinked, but my lips tingled pleasantly from the beer and I was irrationally annoyed with Pilar, even though Pilar hadn’t done anything to deserve my annoyance. What better way to prove I was nobody’s boyfriend than to kiss another girl? And it was just Erin. She’d never tell.

  “Okay,” I said.

  We both were still. She took off her glasses and dropped them to her side. I leaned forward and almost fell on top of her. She giggled and sounded like any other high school girl, not so sophisticated after all.

  With one arm balancing me, I slowly touched my lips to hers. She tasted slightly sour, like the beer, but it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant sensation. She snaked her arms around my neck and I slid my tongue past her teeth. Just as I was going to pull back and end the kiss, there was the sound of laughter, but it wasn’t coming from me or Erin.

  “Whoa, sorry, man,” someone said from the entrance to the tree house.

  Before I could make out a face in the dark, the head dropped back out of the entrance.

  I sat up and rubbed my eyes. What was I thinking, kissing Erin Mielke?

  “I want to know who’s up there,” a voice said, talking to someone below on the ground. Joan’s head appeared in the entrance and she laughed. “Hey, Stephen. Long time no see.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “We’ll get out of your way. We were just leaving.”

  Joan shook her head. “You were not. You were only getting started. You even still have your clothes on.”

  “It’s not like that,” I said. It was becoming a mantra for me. The tingle of my beer buzz evaporated, my skin turning clammy.

  “It’s always the preacher’s kid, right? Isn’t that how it goes?”

  “Come on, Joan,” a boy called.

  “I’m coming,” she answered. “You two stay put. No worries.”

  And she was gone. The tree house was silent again.

  “Are you embarrassed to be caught kissing me?” Erin asked. Her voice was soaked with hurt, and I wanted to punch my own self in the face. Stupid stupid stupid stupid Stephen.

  “No,” I said. “I just…”

  But I didn’t know what to say next. I just what?

  “I need to get home.”

  “How? You said you came with Ballard?”

  She was right. Damn.

  “Besides, Josh’s parents won’t let anyone leave tonight. That’s the deal. They buy the booze, but no one is allowed to drive until tomorrow morning. You can go to the house and they’ll let you sleep there, but most people stay here by the river. It’s not cold out or anything.”

  I yawned. It had to be nearly morning already. How long had I been drinking with Erin? How long did I spend arguing with Ballard?

  “Come on, you can sleep up here with me.”

  I should’ve argued, but what was the point? I wasn’t going to hike out of the woods to get cell signal and call my parents. I was absolutely not in the mood for a lecture about my “poor choices.”

  So I laid my head in Erin’s lap while she leaned against the wall. Sometime later, I heard voices and a few more people climbed into the tree house. Someone brought blankets and passed them around. A pillow appeared, and I was out again. When the sun rose, I found myself in the corner, arms wrapped around Erin, head throbbing like a drum line.

  In the light of day, the night before was like a dream. I left the tree house and caught a ride with a guy from my English class. Neither of us spoke, and he dropped me at the entrance to Lost Bridge Trail. I couldn’t go home yet. Not until my headache faded and I rinsed my mouth out. The kid from my English class passed me a stick of gum before I got out of his car. I thanked him and walked a mile or so on the trail to clear my head.

  Somehow, I had to go home and face my mother’s church cookout and the reality of what an idiot I was turning out to be. The only good news was, I was out of ways to make my own life any worse.

  Chapter Twelve

  When I walked in the front door, Dad tossed me his car keys and sent me to pick up bags of ice. I took longer than I really needed to buy a few bags of ice at the Quick-Stop. I wasn’t hung over. I hadn’t drunk enough for that, but I didn’t feel like myself either, and a sugary gas station cappuccino seemed like one way to clear the fog from my head. The party dragged behind my brain like toilet paper stuck to my shoe. I kissed Erin Mielke, and Joan Pearson caught me doing it. Okay, so I wasn’t kissing Erin when Joan made her way into the tree house, but whichever guy had been with her saw us, so I’m sure she knew.

  At home again, I put the ice into coolers and helped Mom fill them with water and soda.

  “I thought you were out with Ballard last night,” Mom said. “Why didn’t he drop you off?”

  “I felt like walking.” I turned my face away from her while I found some Diet Coke cans in the ice. “I have a lot on my mind.”

  She wanted to ask me what was on my mind. I could tell from the “mom-talk” look on her face. “Stephen, I know—”

  I dropped the lid on the cooler with a loud bang. “So, your new small group thing, you think it will help these people?”

  “I know you’re trying to change the subject, and I will let you have it this time. We will talk later. And, yes, I think a small group will help. You know how I feel about worship services not being the be-all and end-all of living as a true disciple. Small groups get people to share in new ways, gives them companions on the journey.”

  I nodded along, the speech a repeat of one I had heard a million times, so my mind was free to juggle Erin and Joan and …

  Pilar.

  Crap. I’d told her I might call the night before.

  “You’re right, Mom. Friends are important, and I totally forgot to call one of mine. Can we talk later?”

  “Of course, go on.”

  I ducked out of the kitchen and plugged my phone into the charger. When I powered it up, there were no texts. At all.

  Did that mean she wasn’t mad? Or did it mean she was mad?

  I needed to ask a girl, but I didn’t have one available. I wished I had Sylvie’s phone number. I almost opened Twitter and sent her a DM, but I felt like too big of a dork to do that.

  I should’ve texted Pilar right then, but I was already so deep into not doing what I should with Pilar, like being honest with her about my feelings, that I didn’t see the point. Instead I lay on my bed and dozed until voices filled the kitchen a couple of hours later. Mom’s high-pitched laugh darted down the hallway and through my door. Dad knocked and ordered me up and at ’em.

  I almost walked straight into the kitchen, but stopped in the bathroom to wash my face first, after catching sight of myself in a mirror in the hall. I brushed my teeth while I was at it.

  When I finally made it to the group, I was surprised to find Nick Dane and his dad lugging in toolboxes. It turned out the electricity issue needed to be dealt with ASAP, so they were working on Saturday. I knew it had to be driving Mom nuts. You’d be able to hear their tools and their talk while she was hosting a church event.

  My second surprise was when I stepped into the backyard and found Joan on the wooden porch swing near the door, arms crossed and lips scowling. Even with a grouchy attitude, she was gorgeous. The gre
en skirt was gone, replaced by skinny jeans and sandals. I stared a little too long.

  “What’re you looking at?”

  “Oh, nothing, sorry.” I glanced away and then back at her face. “I was surprised to find you here.”

  “I’m not staying. I’m waiting on Mom to bring me a Coke.”

  I nodded. “That’s cool. But, I mean, it would be cool if you stayed too.” I had no control over my mouth. I sounded like an idiot and I knew it, but I couldn’t stop. “I mean, you know, I’m the only teenager here. It’ll be sort of boring. But you have plans, right? Somewhere else to be, I mean.”

  I lost count of how many times the phrase “I mean” tumbled from my lips.

  “People were talking about you last night,” Joan said, ignoring my babble.

  I stared hard at the boards of our deck.

  “Don’t you want to know what they were saying?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. I have a pretty good idea, thanks to Ballard.”

  “That kid’s got a big mouth,” Joan pointed out needlessly. “Why do you hang around him so much?”

  “He’s my best friend,” I answered automatically. After he outed my kissing game in front of all of those drunk guys at Josh’s party, I wasn’t so sure “best friend” was still an accurate title for Ballard Keighley. My rib cage felt tight, and I wanted to cry like I used to, but I also felt angry, and I really wanted to not deal with any of that right then.

  “Some friend,” Joan said. “Did you have sex with some chick in a mall bathroom?”

  My face flamed. “No. I didn’t.”

  It was worse than I’d imagined. I should’ve known. A rumor isn’t any fun unless it gets exaggerated a little more every time it’s repeated.

  “It didn’t really sound like you.” Joan scooted over and I sat beside her on the swing. Her mom appeared with a Coke and we made small talk for a few minutes before Mrs. Pearson went back inside to help my mom in the kitchen.

  “I should go now.” Joan opened her can and took a drink. “I gave Mom a ride, so I’ll be back to pick her up after a while.”

  “Okay,” I said. “You’re welcome to stay though.”

  Joan smiled. “Thanks, Stephen.”

  She didn’t get up, though. Instead she pushed the swing back with her legs and let it go. We watched the adults carry food out and arrange it on the picnic table. They said grace while Dad flipped burgers on the grill.

  “Wanna get out of here with me?” Joan asked. “We can take my car. Go somewhere without parents. I am so sick of parents.”

  “Or we could ride to the river,” I suggested. “That’s where I go when I need to get away from parents.”

  She frowned. “You mean on the old bike you’re always riding? We’re a little old for that, don’t you think?”

  “Nope.” I couldn’t believe she’d noticed my bike. “Never too old to ride a bicycle. Come on.”

  I rolled Gwinn the Schwinn out of the garage and met Joan in the driveway. She was leaning against her pink Beetle, and something about her posture reminded me of Grease, one of Mom’s favorite movies. She was a little like Rizzo, but she was more like the head of the boys’ gang with the slick hair and leather jacket. Joan had neither slick hair nor a leather jacket, but it didn’t matter. That’s how she looked—cool, aloof, and beautiful.

  “Y’all having work done?” She nodded toward the yellow truck parked on the street.

  “Yeah, they’re tearing our house up, adding an office for my dad.”

  “What’s he do?”

  I never knew the best answer to that question. Dad’s a writer, but he doesn’t write novels or anything like what people expect when you tell them your dad’s a writer. He used to do safety inspections on chemical plants, and he’s sort of a jack-of-all-trades when it comes to fields of study. But calling him a scientist brings up creepy images of bony men in giant goggles cackling over beakers in stainless steel laboratories.

  “He writes, mostly,” I answered lamely.

  “Cool. Writing’s cool.” Joan nodded absently, still looking at the yellow truck.

  I threw a leg over my bike and rolled closer. “You ready to go?”

  “I guess.” She tore her eyes away from the construction vehicle and examined Gwinn. “We won’t both fit.”

  “Sure we will. You can ride on the handlebars if you want, or else stand behind me, but that may not work as well.”

  She eyed me dubiously.

  “I’m serious. Erin rode on my handlebars once. I didn’t wreck her.”

  “Erin, huh?” Joan smirked.

  I remembered Joan peeking into the tree house the night before, my body so close to Erin’s, the taste of beer making my stomach roil in regret. “Erin and I are friends. Her dad works at The Exchange.”

  “Uh-huh.” The smirk stayed put.

  “Look, are you getting on or not?”

  “Fine, but I feel like a twelve-year-old.”

  It took a few attempts, but once Joan was situated, I took off, pedaling against the wind and letting tics and girlfriends and drunk party hookups fly away behind me. For all of her protesting, Joan enjoyed the ride. Halfway to the river, she laughed, a sort of crazy-sounding laugh that came to me in jolts of sound, not unlike a vocal tic I had in fifth grade.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked after we locked my bike to a tree near the Tallapoosa. Above us, the huge bridge towered in the afternoon sunlight.

  “I don’t know.” Joan did a sort of spinning dance across the grass, moving downhill toward the water.

  No matter how many girls I’d talked to in the last month or so, they still baffled me. “What do you mean, you don’t know? Something made you laugh.”

  “It’s everything.” She motioned around us.

  I didn’t see anything funny. Just some trees, grass that would soon turn brown in autumn, big gray rocks along the water’s edge.

  “I mean, my life is crap, Stephen, real, honest-to-God crap. I live in a shitfest of shittiness, and here I am, right in the middle of all my awfulness, riding on bicycle handlebars with wind in my hair.” At the mention of hair, she took a rubber band from her wrist and looped her black hair, creating a messy kind of bun at the nape of her neck.

  I had to walk past Joan. The sight of her neck, the slope of it, the creamy skin disappearing beneath her T-shirt … my body responded even more obviously to that small gesture than it had when Pilar was pressed against me in the mall bathroom.

  My foot jerked out as I made my way down the bank and sat on a boulder. I leaned over, elbows on knees, hiding any lingering signs of where my mind went.

  Joan followed and sat beside me.

  “So, what everyone was talking about last night … is it true?”

  I shook my head. “I already told you, no, I never had sex in a bathroom.”

  “Not that.” She knocked her knee against mine, and my elbow dislodged.

  I caught myself and sat upright. “Then what?”

  “Ballard said you believe kissing girls will treat your Tourette’s.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Ballard’s an idiot.”

  “Isn’t he your best friend?”

  “He is my best friend, but that doesn’t make him any less of an idiot.”

  “So you don’t need to kiss me right now?”

  I opened and closed my mouth, completely unable to form words. I’d have liked to kiss Joan, but not as part of some dumb experiment. But I also didn’t want her to know I wanted to kiss her. Joan was clearly still in love with Wade, and God only knew who the boy in the tree house had been.

  “So, no experiment?”

  A lock of dark hair came loose from her bun. It fluttered across her face in the wind, and I tucked it behind her ear. The gesture was small, but I’d seen it done by a billion men in a billion of Mom’s old movies, so I knew it could be construed as romantic.

  I glanced away, even as my fingers brushed her cheekbone. Just as the curve of Joan’s neck affected me earlier, the warmth
of her skin shot through me faster than the beer I should’ve never drunk. I’d rather have touched Joan’s face one more time than slide my hand inside Pilar’s shirt again and again and again. That was the data I needed to analyze, not my reaction to kissing, but my reaction to Joan.

  “Why is your life a shitfest?” I asked.

  She caught my fingers with her own, holding our hands suspended between us. “Why did you want to get out of your house so badly last night?”

  “I asked first,” I said.

  “Nope.” She shook her head. “I asked you last night, and you refused to answer. You first.”

  I chuckled. “Fine. There’s this girl, and I may have screwed things up with her.”

  “What’d you do?” She lowered our hands, but our fingers stayed entwined.

  I considered possible answers to her question. Because I wasn’t entirely sure what I’d done, other than follow Pilar blindly through the mall and through whatever kind of relationship she believed we were in. It was too long of a story to explain.

  I went with the reason Pilar was mad at me right that second. “I didn’t call when I said I would.”

  “Is that all?” Joan nudged my leg with hers again. “That’s easy to solve.”

  “Easy how?”

  “Apologize. Acknowledge you screwed up and promise not to do it again.” Untangling our fingers, Joan leaned back on her elbows.

  I wasn’t sure Joan’s advice fit my situation. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to make up with Pilar. “Your turn. Explain the shitfest.”

  “You remember my sister? Pearl?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, she’s been away at college, and she got married. Without telling anyone. Mom found out on Facebook.”

  “Wow.” There wasn’t much else to say.

  “Yeah, and Dad lost his job. Pearl says that’s why she didn’t tell anyone, because she knew we couldn’t afford a wedding right now, but no one believes her. She married this guy we met once, and no one liked him. She didn’t want us to talk her out of it.”

  Joan didn’t volunteer any more information, but the look on her face screamed fear and bitterness. I might have pressed the issue, but the clouds were darkening and the wind was picking up. I knew we needed to leave right away if we wanted to get back to the house before the rain moved in. So I helped Joan navigate the rocks back to the grassy bank and we made our way to my bike, Gwinn’s green paint glistening in the pre-storm light.