Kiss and Repeat
Page 17
“I get it,” she said. “You’re sorry. You never meant to hurt me and all that.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“And I didn’t mean to let you. But it happened. Maybe I will forgive you. Maybe I won’t. That’s my decision, and you will just have to live with it, either way.”
Joan gave my hand an encouraging squeeze.
“I’m sorry, Pilar,” I said again.
“Yeah, me too. Let’s just move on now.” Pilar’s eyes were already leaving my face and following one of the beer pong guys. He smiled at her, and she blushed.
“Yeah, all right,” I said, and Joan tugged me out of the doorway, leading me around the corner to the den, where we set our sodas on the coffee table and settled on the loveseat. She leaned her head on my shoulder.
“You feel any better?” Joan asked.
“A bit.” My brain replayed all of the mistakes I’d made with Pilar. “I wish I could undo some things.”
Joan turned her head to look up at me. “We all make mistakes.”
“Maybe. Mine were pretty bad though.”
“Yeah, you acted pretty dumb. I mean, look how long it took for you to get around to kissing me.” She grinned.
“I promise, I’ve learned my lesson.” I kissed Joan’s grinning lips and she wrapped her arms around my neck. I’d never known you could have that much fun at a party, or I would’ve shown up at every one I got invited to.
* * *
It was nearing midnight when Joan and I walked onto the deck. We’d mostly been talking by ourselves all evening, but now we decided to join the crowd outside.
Sylvie had strung orange twinkle lights around the rails of the deck, and I could see a row of lanterns bobbing on the water. She’d told Joan and me she wanted to make this high school party more mature. I spotted her sitting on Ballard’s lap on an Adirondack chair near the fire pit. King and queen of the party scene, just like they were always meant to be. It seemed strange that I ever questioned them as a couple, now that they were so obviously a matched set. Sylvie looked relaxed and happy, and Ballard wasn’t even drunk.
When Joan spotted a friend and broke away, I walked toward Ballard. My toes were flexing inside my shoes, but it was a minor annoyance, nothing I couldn’t deal with. The sounds of Post Malone drowned out the conversations around us, and Ballard had to practically yell to ask how my night was going.
“It’s great,” I yelled back.
I sat with them a while, thinking about how much had changed in the months since the last party at Ballard’s. That night, I just wanted to disappear, to blend in, to be normal, but normal isn’t so clear anymore. Everyone I saw on that deck was dealing with something, and a lot of them thought and acted differently than one another, once I slowed down and paid attention. Even Wade, with his secret princess sketches for Joan and his struggles with math. It turns out neurodiversity isn’t just about me being different. It’s about everyone being allowed to be themselves. Freely and truly. I wasn’t sure that was possible for all of the kids in Moorhen, but it was possible for me, because I had good friends and finally accepted myself exactly as I was.
After a while, I went looking for Joan. She was in a far corner of the deck, sitting on a lounge chair by herself.
I sat down and leaned against the back of the lounge chair. Joan leaned her body against mine. She took off her cat-ear headband, rubbing her temples, and tossed it to the side. Her head fit perfectly in the crook of my neck, and she smelled like lake water and mint gum. Above us, a set of silver wind chimes sparkled in the twinkle lights, a breeze eliciting the soft tangle of tunes.
In the distance, over the sound of another Post Malone song, I heard Ballard’s loud laugh and a shriek as someone got thrown into the water, but it was the wind chimes that mesmerized Joan and me. We watched them dancing above us, and I kissed the top of Joan’s head, right where her dark hair parted to reveal a line of warm brown skin.
“Can we stay like this forever?” Joan asked, her voice dreamy.
“Yes,” I said. “We can.”
Acknowledgments
First things first, by the time this is on a shelf, Corey will have spent twenty years married to me, and being married to a writer is no easy road. Thank you for loving me, even when I basically have to exist in another world for hours and weeks on end in order to make a book.
Thanks, Mom, for reading all of my manuscripts and telling me how awesome they are. Thanks, Dad, for giving me stories as a child and encouraging my melodramatic teenage poetry. Thanks to my steps, Wayne, Candy, Linda, Tara, and David, for being way more than steps to me. Thank you to my sons, Haydn and David, for listening to my plot issues, indulging my strange teen-culture questions, and always being willing to make me dinner while I work. Thank you to my stepdaughter, Savannah. The story I wrote that made me believe I can do this … it was the sci-fi novella I wrote for your eleventh birthday. To my brothers: Jimmy, I love you, and Danny, I miss you. To my baby sister: Carrie, you were my first reader. I still have one story I wrote for you when we were kids. It’s ridiculous, but you loved it, and I love you. Thanks for being my cheerleader, always.
I have so many amazing friends who have listened to me vent and brainstorm throughout this process. I can’t possibly name them all. Leila, your friendship saved me in ways you’ll never know. I wouldn’t be healthy enough to write without you. Louise, I always know you are praying for me and rooting for my success. To the Clines, thank you for cabin time to finish revisions and plenty of drinks and laughs. To Jen Hawkins and Mara Rutherford, thank you for your writerly solidarity on those never-gonna-sell-a-book days.
I also have a lot of amazing groups where I am accepted and inspired, writer-centric and otherwise: TOT/Pitchwars 2014, the Clubhouse, Swoon Squad, the 21ders, the Kick Ass Girls Group, The Well @ Lewisburg, Thick and the Dead, and all of my #ActuallyAutistic groups and friends.
I had a lot of readers along the way. Thank you: Kim Lawson, Dee Garretson, Jennifer Park, Alison Miller, Alexandra Alessandri, Sonia Hartl, Lindsay Portwood, Amanda Hill, and Dannie Morin. Thanks to all of you who read this story while it was on the Swoon website as well. Your comments helped in the revision process. There are also plenty of people and places that helped me with this story or inspired parts of it: Izzie, Trails & Treads (bike rental), Middle Sisters (meet-up at Lake Martin), the generous people who shared their experiences with TS, and the handful of teens who helped me with pop-culture stuff (especially Olivia Holloway).
Finally, this book started with a lot of editorial help from Amy Tipton before it landed on the Swoon website. My agent, Hilary Harwell, has been a godsend as I navigate the editorial process as a debut author. I have been lucky enough to work on this book with Kat Brzozowski, Holly Ingraham, and Lauren Scobell. Swoon is full of fabulous people, and I am so grateful to be part of the squad.
* * *
P.S. A special thank-you to Edna St. Vincent Millay, Shere Khan, and Sir Terry Pratchett, the kitties that keep me company as I write.
About the Author
HEATHER TRUETT is a writer, a mother, and a somewhat heretical pastor’s wife. You can sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Epigraph
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter
Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright
Copyright © 2021 by Heather Truett
A Swoon Reads Book
An imprint of Feiwel and Friends and Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC
120 Broadway, New York, NY 10271
fiercereads.com
All rights reserved.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.
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First hardcover edition 2021
eBook edition 2021
eISBN 9781250262936