by Piper Rayne
My eyes widen. “Ew. I think that kiss starved your brain of oxygen.”
“Come on.” She hits me with her shoulder and grabs the bottle back.
I reach for it, but she holds it up higher than I can reach. “I’m not kissing Colton.”
“Why?” She juts out her hip.
“Because he’s my best friend.”
Her eyes narrow. “I thought I was your best friend.”
“You’re both my best friends. Now give me the bottle.”
“Okay, but I am your best friend. Everyone knows once you reach a certain age, guys and girls can’t just be friends.” She raises the bottle in the air. Damn me being height-challenged. “At least you can trust Colton not to make fun of you if you kiss bad.”
“Who says I’ll be bad?” She doesn’t know. I’ve practiced on my hand before, and with so many older siblings, I’ve seen way more R-rated movies than her.
“No one, but remember Olivia Reeder last year? How that jerk, Ian, told everyone she was like kissing a bottle and had no idea what she was doing?”
I fall back down to my heels. She’s right. Olivia missed a week of school until her parents forced her to go back. Ian and his friends still pick on her when they finish their Snapple bottles, sticking their tongues inside and pretending to make out with them.
“Colton’s the safe bet,” Emily says.
“What if it changes things?”
She tugs the arm of my sweatshirt. “It’s Colton. Please. A kiss can be just a kiss. You overthink everything.”
She practically pulls me down the stairs, and when we reach the bottom, Colton looks up as he positions his shot on the table. Xavier eyes the bottle in Emily’s hand.
“Guess what we’re going to play now?” She holds up the bottle.
Xavier ditches his pool cue on the table. Colton stands up straight and looks at me.
“Spin the Bottle.” Xavier meets Emily, who’s already sitting on the floor in front of the couches.
“Why?” Colton asks.
“What kind of guy are you? Get your butt over here.” Emily pats the spot next to her.
But Colton continues to look at me, questions filling his eyes. He’s not like Xavier and the other boys. He’s never been rumored to have kissed anyone, but then again, he’s usually with me on the weekends.
I shrug and sit down. This is the best thing for both of us, even if he doesn’t know it yet. How great would it be if both of our first kisses are with each other? If one of us messes up, we’d never tell anyone else.
“We need music.” Xavier stands and fiddles with our stereo until the Black Eyed Peas play, which means Brooklyn was listening to it last. He sits back down between Emily and me.
Colton fiddles with the shoelaces of his Converse, looking at me out the corner of his eye.
“Okay, remember if it lands on the same couple three times, that means tongue action. Juno’s house, so she goes first.” Emily eyes Xavier and they share a laugh. They’re all about this game.
I twirl the bottle with my hand and swallow, watching the bottle spin and spin, releasing my breath when it bypasses Xavier. At this point, I’d rather kiss Emily than Xavier. It slows between Emily and Colton. We look at them for the answer since this is their game.
“Midway always goes to the right. You and Colton,” Emily says.
We look at each other and I press my hands on the floor to lean forward. He does the same and our lips meet, pressing together for the briefest moment. Then I’m back in my space as quickly as possible. That wasn’t so bad. Colton continues to play with his shoelace and all I can feel is how red my cheeks are.
Xavier and Emily stare at us as if we’re about to rate the kiss. When neither of us says anything, Xavier spins the bottle and it lands on Colton, to which Xavier says redo. Then it spins and points at Emily. They kiss with tongue on the first go. I guess once you go tongue, you don’t go back. Emily spins, and it lands on Colton. I watch as he kisses her just like he did me, glancing in my direction. Colton spins, and my heart is in my throat as it stops between Xavier and me.
“That’s you, Juno,” Emily says.
“But you said—”
“I’m not kissing him,” Xavier says.
“Come on, Juno. It’s only the second time,” Colton says.
I lean forward and our lips stay connected a little longer than the first time, and I realize how soft his lips are. He got his braces off last year and he’s been obsessed with Chapstick since. I vow to never make fun of his addiction again.
Emily wiggles in her spot, almost clapping and giddy as if she had the kiss.
I spin the bottle and it lands on Xavier. He gets the quickest peck ever from me and I run my hand over my lips after. Emily’s spin lands back on Colton, and I watch them kiss again.
As Colton’s hand covers the bottle, my gut twists, and I have no idea if it’s because if it lands on me, we have to use tongue, or if it’s the fact that if it lands on Emily, his first tongue kiss will be with her.
My eyes follow the bottle’s movement, and I realize as it slows down that I’m holding my breath. It comes to a stop right between Colton and me, and a rush of hot air flows out of my mouth.
The room seems so small, as if there’s a spotlight above us as our eyes lock, both of us conveying that this is it. We’re going to have our first kiss in front of our friends.
We lean in toward each other and our lips touch.
“You have to use tongue,” Emily says.
Colton presses a little firmer, his tongue sliding between the seam of my lips. I open for him, not sure what exactly I’m supposed to do. All I can think about is that Colton is kissing me, his tongue is in my mouth, and a funny feeling rushes to the pit of my stomach. I kind of like kissing Colton. I mean, it’s not horrible.
Then the lights flicker on and footsteps barrel down the stairs. “What’s going on here?” Brooklyn says.
Colton and I fly apart, and I wipe my mouth.
“Your friends have to leave,” she says, turning off the radio. Her eyes are red and swollen. “Where are Rome and Denver?”
“Why do they have to leave?” I stand up and press the stereo back on.
A minute later, more footsteps sound on the stairs.
“Brooklyn!” Grandma Dori yells downstairs. “I’m calling Austin and then Savannah.”
Brooklyn presses the stereo off. “I told you, Juno, your friends need to go.” A tear slips from her eye.
“Where are the boys?” Grandma asks from upstairs.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“Just have your friends go home. Grandma needs to speak to all the kids.” Brooklyn heads up the stairs, wiping at her face the entire time.
“Did something happen?” Colton asks at my side.
“I’m not sure, but I guess you guys should go.”
My friends leave, and I sit on the floor of our family room with my siblings, minus Austin and Savannah, who are away at college.
Grandma sits on a chair and fists her shaking hands. For the first time ever she’s having a hard time talking. “There’s been an accident.”
Brooklyn breaks down in sobs. Kingston looks at her as though he doesn’t understand, and Phoenix and Sedona start crying.
“Your mom and dad are in the hospital up in Juneau,” Grandma says.
My heart plummets into my stomach.
Ten minutes later is when my grandma says it’s serious, that my parents are really hurt but the doctors are trying to fix them up. She says we should think positive, but the fact that she’s called Austin and Savannah home is a bad sign.
I walk out our front door because my dad always said no matter where they are, we all share the same sky—and almost scream when I see Colton on the steps of my house.
He stands. “It seemed serious. I stayed in case you needed me.”
We sit on the steps of my house, our legs brushing, but we don’t talk about the kiss we shared. He doesn’t hug me or tell me
it will be okay; he just sits there.
It’s then that I know Colton will be a fixture in my life forever, not just here temporarily like Emily said. A friendship like ours can stand the test of time.
Six
Colton
I open the door of the only tuxedo shop in town and let Juno walk through first.
Mr. Johnson smiles at us and comes around from behind the counter. “Juno Bailey. I didn’t think I’d get to see your beautiful face today.”
He opens his arms and Juno falls right in, hugging him back. Mr. Johnson was a friend of our dads. If you grew up in Lake Starlight, you knew one another. So just like my dad, every guy who went to school with Mr. Bailey feels a sense of responsibility to the Bailey kids.
“Hi, Mr. Johnson. I’m here to tell this guy what to wear for the big day.” She thumbs toward me.
“He definitely needs the help.” Mr. Johnson smiles at me over Juno’s shoulder.
“Whatever. Let’s see what you got for me.” I rub my hands together.
Juno sits in one of the big leather chairs by the fitting room. “Fashion show time.” She pulls out her phone. “I’ll take a picture of each so we can see if it’s camera-worthy.”
“I already set some things in dressing room number one.” Mr. Johnson points at the small hallway. “I figured you for more of a classic guy, but I didn’t know how dressy you wanted to get. Don’t worry about fit. I’ll tailor it.”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“I want to see each one, Stone.” Juno crosses her legs and picks up a magazine from the small round table. She’s back to her usual self, which hopefully means we’ve moved past the awkwardness of last weekend.
“Yeah, yeah.”
I shut the door of the fitting room and overhear Mr. Johnson asking Juno about her siblings, how the new babies are and how the new mothers are holding up. She’s polite and cheerful, but unfortunately, I hear the tone in her voice that says she’s being overly polite. Not that she’s not happy for her siblings—Juno lives for her family—but something is really bothering her lately. It’s like she’s in a rush to find someone one day, and the next she thinks she’s destined to be the solo Bailey.
I slide my slacks off my body and fold them neatly on the bench, then exchange my button-down for the classic white shirt Mr. Johnson put in the room. As I’m buttoning it, all I can think about is how I always saw Juno as my bride. How it wouldn’t be her voice on the other side of the fitting room door because she wouldn’t want to see me before our wedding day. But here I am marrying Brigette instead. It’s all so different than what I imagined.
I tuck the white shirt into the classic gray slacks, adjusting the waist to fit better.
I’ve always been a commitment guy. Always ready for the next step. I’m not surprised to be getting married, but I am surprised to whom, since I promised my heart to someone other than my bride-to-be a long time ago. I witnessed my parents’ loving marriage all my life. I saw how much they leaned on one another when my grandparents passed away and when Tim and Beth Bailey died. When fishing season wasn’t going well, and my mom had to get a job. Even though my dad was depressed because he felt it was a man’s place to bring money into the household, he made sure that all the household tasks were done. That there was a hot meal for my mom when she came home, and the laundry was all put away. They saw one another through thick and thin, and I want the same. A partner in life.
My arms glide through the black jacket and I straighten the white shirt underneath by pulling on the cuffs. I look goofy as hell.
“Come on, Stone, we’re waiting,” Juno yells.
I walk out in the tuxedo to the three mirrors and step up on the box.
Juno says nothing. She looks me up and down, but no words leave her mouth.
“Well? I look ridiculous, right?”
“You look grown-up.” Her lip trembles for a millisecond before she swallows and masks any emotion. “Where’s the lanky kid who broke his arm trying to be cool on a skateboard?” She lets out a strained laugh and stands, taking a picture with her phone.
“Where’s the girl with bubble gum all over her face because she shoved so many pieces of Hubba Bubba in there to blow the Guinness Book of World Records’ biggest bubble?”
She smiles. We could go on and on about all our memories. The good ones. The funny ones. We never talk about the serious ones. Juno likes to keep those in a locked vault. Unfortunately, many of those times are memories I like to relive. Not because they’re bad, but because of what happened when we comforted one another. The lingering touches, the tight hugs and long holds. The short kisses to cheeks that would continue down the other’s face until our lips met. The soft, hesitant kisses to test if the other one was on the same page. Times when the line would blur slightly with the excuse of comfort.
“Circle around now.” She twirls her finger in the air.
I do as she says, acting like arunway model with my hands tucked into the pockets of my pants.
“You are a classic kind of guy, aren’t you?” Her eyes peruse me and my blood whooshes through my body at her attention.
“I think it’s too dressy though. I mean, we’re having a garden wedding at Selene’s.”
She stares at me, her finger to her lips, tapping like she’s a judge on Top Model. “Let’s see what else Mr. Johnson found.”
I disappear down the hallway and hear her laugh at something Mr. Johnson says.
I take off the tux—which is the one I wore in my head while I waited for Juno to walk down the aisle toward me—and put on a navy suit with a white shirt and burgundy tie. This works better for my wedding with Brigette.
Mr. Johnson takes all my measurements, and I put down the deposit on the suit.
“Lunch?” I ask Juno after we’re out of the shop.
“I should probably get back to the office.”
“That client already come in today?”
“Yeah.” Her mouth opens as though she’s going to say something else, but she doesn’t.
“Then we’re going to lunch. A quick one at Lard Have Mercy.” I bend down so we’re eye to eye.
She nods, and we both turn to take the shortcut through the gazebo and park over to Main Street. Neither of us talks much on the way to the small diner.
We’re seated in a booth in the far corner, with a view of the park. We’ve eaten here so many times I’ve lost count. At thirteen, we came here for fries and milkshakes. By high school, I was getting burgers and onion rings while Juno ordered grilled cheese and ate half my rings. She always refused to order her own. When I came home from college, I started ordering the Salisbury steak while Juno shifted to salads.
“I’ll have soup and salad,” she tells the waitress.
“I’ll have a cheeseburger and onion rings.”
Juno’s head snaps up from the menu. “No chicken and dumplings, old man?”
We hand our menus to the waitress. “I’m feeling nostalgic.”
She tilts her head. “Why?”
I shrug. “I have no idea, but I bet you’ll steal a few onion rings.”
“I like my soup and salad, thank you,” she says. “Not to mention I have to fit into my dress for your wedding.”
“Oh yeah, Brigette mentioned that we haven’t gotten your RSVP yet.”
She takes the bin of jams, organizing them so all the same flavors are once again back together. “Oh, sorry. I thought I had.”
“Are you bringing anyone?” I ask the question that’s been burning inside me.
Brigette actually didn’t notice we didn’t get her RSVP. I did—because I want to know if she’s bringing that douchebag Trey from Los Angeles.
She shakes her head. “No.”
“What’s going on with Trey?”
She’s been tight-lipped about him since whatever happened between them last year, but I know something happened. The jokes her sisters make that quickly cut off when they remember I’m in the room are a pretty good indicator. Trey Galger is a rec
ord label owner who’s friends with Phoenix’s boyfriend. He flies his private jet into town every now and then. I hate the guy on principle that he’s not what Juno needs in her life.
She gives me that confused look she does every time I ask about him. “Nothing is going on. The baby shower was the first time I’d seen him in, like, six months.”
For some reason, her brushing it off stokes enough anger inside that I blurt out what I’m really feeling. “Juno, I can’t do this anymore.”
Her head rears back. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about this awkwardness between us. I get that I conveyed to you that I didn’t like Trey and I know I’m getting married and then the whole kiss thing last weekend, but I told you not to worry about it. We’re best friends. What’s happening to us?”
The waitress comes over and brings us our drinks.
We nod our thanks and Juno waits until she leaves to respond. “I’m just embarrassed.”
“Why? It’s not like we haven’t done things like that before.”
“Colton!” She looks around and leans forward, lowering her voice. “You’re engaged. I’m not the kind of person who does that. I barely know Brigette, but I’m not sure I can face her now.”
“You were drunk and…” I decide it’s better to leave out that she was depressed because she’ll just deny it. “And I told you, I’m not going to tell her.”
“Don’t you see?” She ties the straw wrapper in a knot, pulling both ends to see if it breaks. She’s been doing that since high school. It tears right in the middle of the knot, and she crumples it in her hand.
“Someone’s thinking of you.” I nod toward the now-balled white paper.
“I think I’ve just mastered how to pull the paper, so it breaks in the middle of the knot,” she grumbles.
“No, it’s because I’m always thinking of you.”
She blows out a breath and sips her diet soda. “You can’t say things like that.”
“Why not? I’m your friend.”
“My friend who’s about to become someone’s husband.”