Feathermore

by Lucy Swing

The weekend went fast, and Monday rolled around. I woke up, excited that I would finally be seeing Avan again. My flirtatious mood had incited me to add purple highlights to my hair.

  Since I seemed to be the only senior without a car, Avan had offered to take over the task of chauffeuring me to school whenever Claire didn’t sleep over. When I heard him pull up in the driveway my heart missed a few beats. I hadn’t seen him after our movie date and was nervous about how he would be today.

  His engine idled a moment; then I heard the sound of the car door closing. I walked briskly over to the front door and held it open for him. As I took in the vision of him walking toward me, I was amazed to realize that he was interested in me. His crooked smile showed up the second he saw me standing there. He was wearing washed-out black jeans, a white long-sleeved T-shirt, and a black leather jacket. So . . . dangerous!

  He was also wearing a loose beanie cap that let a few strands of dark hair peek out. When he reached me, he put his arm around my waist and pulled me in for a short but tender kiss. Just as on Friday night, I felt myself get lost in the sensation it brought. As corny as it sounds, whenever we were together, especially if we touched physically in any kind of way, sparks began to fly.

  We walked toward the kitchen, where Mom was having her morning coffee, and I picked up my backpack.

  “Good morning, Avan,” she said politely.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Lovecraft. How was your weekend?” He took the bar stool next to her.

  Mom knew what he meant to me—after all, I had spent all weekend talking about pretty much nothing else. Luckily, since my parents had met him before, I had gotten their approval. Avan and Mom made small talk while I grabbed two orange juice bottles from the refrigerator, and a bagel from the breadbox. I gave Mom a kiss and led Avan outside.

  He drove a sweet 1969 Mustang convertible. He said his mother had bought it off an old man in their neighborhood for pennies. I truly doubted that. The car was in mint condition. The paint was still shiny, and the white top was in perfect condition. The seats were white leather with red seams. And he kept a couple of Black Ice air fresheners under the seats, which made the car smell wonderful. As we were pulling out of the driveway I asked him about his weekend.

  “It may not seem very manly to admit, but I was thinking about you all weekend.”

  Manly or not, I loved hearing that. “And what were you thinking about?” I asked as I cocked my head to the side.

  He picked up my hand and kissed the back of it, and I felt myself start to blush. He stopped the car and pulled me closer to him. He leaned in, stopping just short of my lips.

  “This . . .”

  His warm breath merged with mine. He closed the space between us, and the whole world became the sweet taste of his kiss. It felt like the Fourth of July in my head. He sat back and focused on the road again.

  “I’ve missed you, Jade.”

  My heart was doing back flips at this point. We drove in silence for a moment, my hand still in his. I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to talk to him about what I felt every time we touched. I decided to tackle the issue right here and now. Cold sweat found its way to the palms of my hands and I let go of his.

  “I have a question for you.”

  “Shoot,” he said.

  There was that crooked grin. I tried to sound calm. Though my insides were twisting, I had no idea how I would feel if he didn’t understand what I was about to say.

  He made a stop at the intersection and then turned left. One more block before we were at school. The sky was covered by gray clouds, very mismatched with my current mood.

  “It’s going to sound totally weird, but I just have to ask . . . Ever since the first time we met and our hands touched, well, it’s as if, every time we touch, there’s this current of energy that flows from you to me and back to you again. I was just wondering . . .”

  I felt stupid hearing myself say this. He would think I was insane and never talk to me again, but the squeeze on my hand felt like an act of reassurance. I looked at him.

  “You know, Jade, that’s something I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask you, too,” he said. “I think I know what you mean.” He stole a quick look my way and gave me a look of understanding.

  “I will admit that at first it was weird. I’ve never felt that before, but then it got more natural and started to feel like every time we touch, we become one. Somehow, we’re connected. It feels right now.”

  That was all it took to reassure myself of just how deeply in love I was with him. I stared at him for a moment, wanting to capture this feeling forever—just bottle it up and keep it with me always.

  I spent the rest of the short drive to school telling him about my weekend and how we were going to decorate the house for Halloween, not making mention that it was also my birthday. He offered to come over and help, but I told him it was Mom’s job. She never let anyone help with the decorations—not even me.

  We parked in a space far from the school’s main entrance, and hearing the first bell go off, we started running.