The First Kiss Hypothesis

by Mandelski, Christina

  I smirk. “Oh God. What image is that?”

  He grins. “You know. Stud. Lacrosse beast. Superfly dude.”

  I groan. “Oh no, is that what you’ve been going for?”

  A corner of his mouth lifts. “Not pulling it off?”

  Unable to stop myself, I lift my hand off his shoulder, poke his dimple lightly, then put my hand right back where it was. “Oh, Eli,” I say. “You can’t fool me. I know who you are.”

  His hands move higher upon my arms and a silence floats between us.

  His mouth twitches. “Who am I?”

  My friend. Friend. Friend.

  “Who do you want to be?”

  What the hell am I saying?! I must be possessed.

  His eyebrows pull together, and I am aware that I’m looking at his mouth. At those full, gorgeous lips. I’m also aware that I want to…kiss them.

  But then there’s splashing, and his teammates are tumbling toward us like prehistoric ape-men, shouting and tearing up the smooth surface around us, and the moment is lost.

  That’s okay, because the moment needed to be lost.

  I let go of Eli as the guys descend. He says nothing when I turn back to shore and leave.

  Back on the beach, Abby offers me a water bottle. “Hey, you went in?” She didn’t notice us out there and I’m glad. She chatters on and on about how hot they all look, the lacrosse guys out there. I barely hear her, because my heart is pumping so hard, scared by what just happened, by what almost happened.

  My mind races in time with my pulse. I sit cross-legged on the towel and remind myself of my hypothesis. I go over the story of Gigi and Harold. Eli is not mine. Even if I almost kissed him out there.

  I can’t do that. Can. Not. No matter how badly I wanted to, that’s not how this theory works.

  Chapter Ten

  Eli

  “Clear the crease! Clear the crease!” I shout at the top of my lungs. It’s almost all rookies out there on the field—most of them juniors, except for Tex.

  Koviak jumps up and down next to me. “These assholes can’t play!”

  He’s right.

  “Fucking Tex is the only one out there who has any game,” he complains. “We’re so screwed!”

  “All right, keep it down.” Some of these players come from select clubs, and some of them I’ve played with. They have skills, but not if they think we don’t believe in them. The game is like that, which Koviak knows well. You get too much in your own head and you might as well give up.

  It’s Saturday, we have a tough game on Tuesday, and some of us are still hurting from the beach party yesterday, including Koviak, who somehow managed to sneak in a cooler full of “fruit punch” bottles that he’d spent way too much time spiking with whatever booze he’d managed to scrounge up. Dude’s pretty resourceful when he wants to be.

  Of course, I didn’t have a drop, thanks to Nora Reid and my boxer-shorts-wearing cop father. Not that I’m an alcoholic or anything, but it sure would’ve taken the edge off of yesterday—and there was an edge, at least from my view. Out there in the water, I was doing my thing, working my plan, and I almost kissed her. I wanted to so badly, and my body started to respond accordingly, and I didn’t know what to do.

  I’ve never been so glad to have a bunch of assholes interrupt my alone time with a pretty girl. And damn, yesterday, that’s what she was. Not just Nora—she was someone else.

  I didn’t let that scare me off, though. In fact, after that I was probably in her face too much, trying to keep Tex out of it. Caleb, that’s his name. What kind of name is that? Dumbass stupid Texas cowboy name.

  Now, back in the locker room, I’ve cranked “You Can Call Me Al,” an old Paul Simon song that my dad loves, on the sound system. I’ve picked it to be this year’s team song. It’s one of my jobs as captain.

  “Yo, Highlanders!” I call to the mass of my sweaty, near-dead and hungover teammates. “Listen to this song. This is the song, brothers. You hear this song, and you remember that ‘you ain’t soft in the middle, you ain’t got a short little span of attention.’” They stare at me like I’m crazy as I quote the weird lyrics. “‘When you want a photo opportunity—you need a shot at redemption. Not gonna end up a cartoon in a cartoon graveyard!’ You hear this song, and you remember that together we’re unbeatable—that we have each other’s backs, that we are the Highlanders, and this is our season!”

  The whole team erupts like a volcano, waving shafts and helmets in the air, and I crank the music up while they dance around like idiots.

  When it ends, Koviak nudges me as I head to my locker. “Weird song. But catchy.”

  “It’s no ‘Dancing Queen.’” I say, remembering the seniors from last year who picked that song. It was stupid, too, and it caught on. Whenever the team song plays, no matter what the climate of the practice, or the game, it puts a smile on everyone’s face and reminds us why we do this—to have fun and kick ass.

  “So…” Koviak nudges me. “You have a good time yesterday?”

  I sit on the bench between the lockers, thinking. “Yeah.” Though Nora couldn’t wait to get away from me in that water. Then afterward, she acted totally normal, like nothing happened. None of that was good.

  His eyes bore into my skull. “You’re into her again, aren’t you?”

  “Why? You gonna give me some love advice?”

  He screws up his mouth and lifts a shoulder. “You want some?”

  “No!” I slam my locker shut, towel wrapped around my waist. “Dude, you know we go way back. She’s just a friend.”

  He sniffs. “Didn’t look like just friends to me. Out there in the water, the two of you.”

  “Oh yeah, and what exactly does just friends look like, as if you’ve ever been just friends with a female?”

  He inclines his head toward me. “Just friends means you don’t look like you’re about to make out.”

  My jaw tenses. “I gotta hit the showers.”

  “Fine, fine, go take your cold shower. Just be aware, Tex is most definitely on the move.”

  I don’t look back at Kov as I walk away, and when I pass Tex at his locker, I have to once again check every impulse to slam him into the lockers.

  I shower off quick and work out my next step with Nora. If Koviak is right—and he knows everything—Tex might ask her out. I don’t have time to waste.

  I don’t want to say I’ve become obsessed with this challenge, but yeah, okay, I’ll say it. I’m going to prove this hypothesis wrong. What will it take? I’m sure as hell gonna find out.

  I get back to my locker, and it’s like a lightbulb flips on in my head. Pie. The one thing that fixes everything.

  Out in Michael Jordan, I take a minute to Google the place I’m thinking of, then I text her.

  You busy?

  Why?

  Time for another lesson.

  By the time I get home, she hasn’t responded, so I get out of the truck and head for her back door. Her mom opens it before I can knock.

  “Eli! I haven’t seen you in forever. Come on in!”

  “Hey, Ms. Reid. Is Nora home?” I go inside the kitchen, where the wall is burned up above the oven. I know she’s worried about the money, but she needs to get that fixed.

  “Nora!” she yells out into the depths of the house. Their house is old, probably over a hundred years, and Gigi lived in it forever. I think of all the time I spent in the kitchen with her before Nora even moved here. When Ari was little and Mom and Dad were taking him from doctor to doctor, trying to figure out what was wrong, trying to get him the help he needed, Gigi’s is where I went. We had some good times in here, and made some awesome pies.

  Nora slides into the kitchen in her socks, a tank top, and short shorts. I have to look away again. What’s with me?

  “Yes?” When she sees me, her mouth drops open a little. “Oh, hey, what’s up?”

  “Did you get my text?”

  She’s thinking of a reason to say no. “Oh, um yeah, except
I have to…”

  Don’t even try it. I’m not taking no for an answer. “You ready to head out?”

  “Where you going?” Ms. Reid asks.

  I flash her the Costas dimple. Even she can’t fight it. “I need to run an errand for my mom.” Which isn’t even a total lie—she asked me to pick up dessert for her book club meeting. “Up the coast a little. MJ’s been giving me a little trouble, so I thought we could take Nora’s car. If that’s okay?”

  Ms. Reid bites her bottom lip, just like her daughter does. “Okay. Just be careful. My ex supposedly has it insured, so he says…”

  Nora crosses her arms, looks at the floor. She doesn’t like it when her mom trash talks her dad, even if it’s all true.

  “No, I’ll be careful. Don’t worry.” So will your kid, who will be doing the actual driving.

  I don’t like lying to her. She’s a good person, Ms. Reid, but I have to stick to the plan. Nora still hasn’t said a word to her about the driving, or Emory either, I’m guessing. I’d be an idiot if I didn’t take advantage of that. I can totally blackmail the hell out of her. “I’ll meet you outside, Nor.”

  Just like that, I’m out the back door. I’m not going to stop my plan now, even if it did get weird yesterday. It’s time for the full-court press.

  She’ll thank me when I prove her theory wrong.

  Chapter Eleven

  Nora

  “Merge! Now! Merge!”

  Eli is yelling as I try to get onto the highway. Doesn’t he know that a stressed-out driver is a dangerous driver?

  My nerves are frayed, and I swallow hard. “Don’t yell at me!” Finally I merge and almost clip a semi.

  We’re in heavy traffic and I don’t like it at all. It’s possible that I’m not getting enough oxygen. Breathe, Nora, breathe.

  “Good job,” he says, but his voice is shaky. “That was good.”

  I don’t respond, too busy keeping an eagle eye on the car in front of me, ignoring the fact that giant trucks have me penned in on both sides. “What exit is it?” I screech.

  “Four miles. Only four miles. You got this. You’re doing good, you could pass the test tomorrow.”

  That can’t be true. “Don’t lie to me.”

  “I mean it, your focus is there,” he says. “Focus is key. And you’re going over the speed limit, that’s progress.”

  He’s a liar, but I bite my bottom lip and push through the fear. Hitting the driver’s ed instructor was a careless accident that isn’t going to happen again. Driving is not that big a deal, everyone does it. Just like everyone leaves home, or falls in love.

  The difference between me and everyone else—I like to get things right the first time. I’m a control freak. I realize we can’t know our futures, so if I can make an educated guess in order to ensure my happiness, why wouldn’t I?

  Eli sighs loudly, probably because I’m going fifty miles per hour in a sixty-five mile per hour.”

  Case in point. When it comes to him, kissing him…it was a bad outcome. I need to get over it and keep searching for a good outcome. That’s all.

  He points to a giant green highway sign. “That’s you. Two miles.”

  I glance his way, so glad he can’t read my mind. “Where are we going anyway? What does your mother need all the way out here?”

  “Something for her book club.”

  “Like what?”

  “You’ll see. Turn signal. Here.”

  I veer onto the exit, hopeful that I can get out of this car soon.

  “See?” he continues. “That wasn’t so bad. Rush hour is easy.”

  I come to the stop sign at the end of the exit ramp and the car behind me honks for some unknown reason. “What?” I shout back over my shoulder. “Go away, I hate you!”

  Eli laughs. “Don’t worry, they’ll stop honking eventually. It’ll all be worth it.” He points into the distance when the light turns green. “Go right.”

  I do as he says. “It better be.”

  He motions to a restaurant on the corner. “Okay, right there.”

  The sign says Tick Tock Diner. “What’s that?” I ask.

  “Just a little place that turned up when I Googled ‘Best pie in Florida.’ I was gonna save it for another time, but you needed another lesson, and I was hungry.”

  I have to admit, I’m excited. The “Best pie in Florida” sounds perfect after that drive. I pull into the parking lot, manage to park mostly between two lines, and turn off the engine. One look at him and I see the dimple. I think of touching it yesterday in the water. I shouldn’t have done that.

  Of course, I’m not going to bring up what happened yesterday. I’m pretty sure it was all my imagination anyway. It was hot out, I might have been dehydrated. There’s no way he wanted to kiss me. We’re just way too comfortable with each other. He might have been into me back in eighth grade, but he’s not now. To think otherwise is just me being stupid. He knows my hypothesis. He knows I take it seriously, even if he thinks it’s a joke.

  Inside the restaurant it’s like stepping back in time. There’s a big clock with a lit-up face that says Tick Tock Diner Since 1949 hanging behind the cash register. It’s bright and the light gives everything a vintage glow, like an old sepia-toned picture. It’s cozy in here, like home.

  Eli looks for someone to seat us, and I am drawn to the baked goods case like a moth to a bug light.

  I gaze longingly at the lineup of pies. “What is this madness?” I whisper reverently when Eli joins me.

  An old woman in a waitress uniform shuffles over. “Just take a seat wherever you want, kids.” We thank her but stick around a few minutes longer to drool over the case.

  “Check out that one,” I say. “Black bottom pie? God. And that one.” I smack him in the arm. “Eli. Triple berry lemon. Triple. Berry. Lemon!”

  “I told you. Best pie in Florida. Let’s sit down.” He steps aside to let me pass and I feel his hand, lightly, on the small of my back. Or maybe I imagined that, too.

  Fran is the name embroidered on the white-haired waitress’s uniform. She sets down two glasses of ice water and offers us a half smile. “You kids want dinner? We got a beef stew special tonight. Real good. Free slice of pie if you have room for it after.”

  “Oh, we’ll have room,” Eli says, arching his eyebrows at me. “You want dinner?” he asks. “My treat.”

  I frown. He never pays for anything. We always split checks because that’s what friends do. “No, I have money.”

  He smirks. “This isn’t a male dominance thing. I want to pay, okay?”

  Fran huffs.

  I glare at him. “Why?”

  He leans back against the booth and tilts his head. “Because I want to. And stop looking at me like that.”

  I glance sideways at Fran, who seems to be enjoying this.

  “All right, we settled then?” she asks. “Gentleman pays. Nothing wrong with that on a date.”

  “No,” I quickly add. “We’re just friends.”

  “All righty then. Just friends. Got it. What would you like?”

  I sit up taller, unsure of what’s happening here. “I’ll have the special, and a slice of triple berry lemon, please.” My tone is curt, because this is not a date. I’m sure she’s a nice lady, but Fran seems awfully up in our business.

  “What can I get for you, big spender?” she asks.

  He looks over the menu, not focusing on anything. “I’ll have the special, too. With a Coke, and a slice of the black bottom pie. Please.”

  Fran nods her head. “Good choice. That’s my favorite. Been our specialty since the place opened.”

  I hand her my menu and Eli does the same, except she winks at him.

  As she walks away, I make an observation. “God. The ladies can’t resist you, Costas, young or old.”

  He winks at me. “What can I say? It’s a curse.” He beats a quick rhythm on the tabletop. “So—what do you think?”

  “Of this place? I think this is what heaven is l
ike.” I sit back on the green vinyl booth bench. Maybe it’s just me, but this sort of does feel like a date.

  I inhale deep. This is not going according to plan. If I’m going to kill this crush, I have to go for the jugular. I don’t want to—I have to. “So, plans tonight? Big date?” I hold my breath waiting for his reply.

  “Nope.” He hits me again with the dimple. It’s like a tranquilizer gun and I’m an elephant he’s trying to bring down. “I’m keeping my options open. You never know what can happen.”

  That’s my cue. “Well”—I level my gaze at him—“you can know. If you take a scientific approach.”

  He laughs. “Oh, right,” he says in a nerdy professor voice. “The scientific approach. I can find true love as long as I’m willing to collect and analyze data.”

  I glare at him, more than a little annoyed. “You know, sometimes I wish I never told you about my theory. I should have just let you think I was a bitch. Left it at that.”

  His eyes get wide when I use that word. He knows I hate it.

  Fran reappears with Eli’s Coke. He sticks in the straw and takes a drag and I’m reminded of that garage kiss, all those years ago.

  He plays with the straw wrapper, twisting it into nothing. “Sometimes I wish you hadn’t told me, either. I probably could have gotten over you easier if I thought you rejected me because I was ugly, or had too many zits, or was a dork.”

  He finally looks up and his eyes burn me like lasers. “Knowing it was just that one lousy kiss made it impossible.”

  Impossible to what? Get over me? Does that mean he’s not over me?

  Fran emerges from the back with a tray. “Here we go, kids.”

  I lose the staring contest, breaking my gaze first. I must have heard him wrong. She places big white bowls in front of us, filled with meat, carrots, and potatoes in a thick brown gravy.

  “Thank you,” I say quietly.

  “I’ll give you some time to eat, then bring out your pie.” She walks away and an odd silence lingers between us.

  He clears his throat. “I’m just saying, Nora. Have you ever wondered, if you tried to kiss me again now, if it would be different?”