I glance over at him. Maybe I should stop thinking about the hypothesis and enjoy this time with my best friend.
I’ve been driving forever through some lovely rush hour traffic, when Eli nudges my shoulder.
“It’s the next exit.”
“It’s about time,” I say, though I’ve done an excellent job driving us here, if I do say so. “Ocala?” I read what the exit says. “What’s in Ocala?”
“You’ll see,” he says. “Not too much longer. Just keep driving, and go the speed limit.”
I do what he says, and keep MJ up to speed. At the bottom of the off-ramp there’s a big intersection and a billboard that says Silver Springs, with an arrow pointing right.
“There,” he says. Turn there.”
A rush of memory plows through me. All of a sudden I’m almost giddy. “Are we going where I think we’re going?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. Where do you think we’re going?”
I giggle like the twelve-year-old I was the last time I came here. “I think we’re going on a glass-bottom boat ride.”
His lips are pressed together when I glance his way. “That would be a good guess.”
“No way.” I follow the billboards. “How late are they open?”
“Till six,” he says. “I checked. We’re good.”
I pull into the lot and park MJ close to the entrance. It’s a Wednesday in late February. There’s almost no one here. “We needed to come all the way here for my final exam?” I ask. But I’m not annoyed. I’m thrilled.
He opens his door. “I just thought we could get out of town, too. Do something different. You do remember coming here?”
“Of course I do.” I can’t stop smiling. “That was a long time ago.”
“You up for it again?”
I hand him the keys. “I just drove an hour on like three separate highways to get here. We’re going on the boat, no matter what.”
I set him up with his crutches and grab my wallet, but when we get inside, he won’t let me pay the entrance fee.
Not this again. “Eli, I can pay.”
He balances on one foot to dig for his wallet in his pocket. “Yeah, I know. So can I. It’s not a lot of money.”
No. This can’t be a date. I clear my throat. “I’ll pay you back.”
He turns and slays me with his glare. “Nora, you don’t have to pay me back, and don’t make this about women’s rights or whatever, okay? Just let me do this, because it makes me happy.”
“Eli…”
He lowers his head so his mouth is next to my ear. “Just. Let. Me. Pay.”
I step back, every nerve in my body on fire, and Eli pays the man in the ticket booth. I’m watching the back of his wavy dark hair. I notice the way the muscles of his neck move when he does.
Is this a date? I’m not sure, but there are butterflies working overtime in my stomach, because definitely this is something.
“Here we go,” he says, plowing through the gates on his crutches. “Let’s do this.”
I follow, amazed at how the park looks exactly as I remember it. The colors are maybe a little less vivid because it’s winter, but they’re still here, shiny bright-green leaves, and hibiscus blooming in pinks and oranges. Beautiful.
The boat launch looks the same, too, as do the boats. Green and white roofs. Windows all around the outside.
A man steps out onto the dock to greet us. “Afternoon, kids,” he says when he takes our tickets. “I’m Captain Isaacs. Looks like you’ll have the honor of being my last passengers today. Go ahead and have a seat, we’ve got plenty to choose from.”
I’m speechless as I step on board. Eli expertly maneuvers on his crutches. It’s just the two of us, and it feels like we’ve traveled back in time.
We sit toward the middle on the benches that surround the thick pane of glass on the bottom. There’s a short wall to lean against and look over, which we do. Already, there are fish and plants beneath us in the shimmering water.
“Have you ridden with us before?” the captain asks.
“Six years ago,” Eli answers.
“Excellent,” he says. “You two related?”
“No!” Eli says. “No.”
I smile at our captain. “We’ve been friends forever.”
“Old friends are the best kind,” Captain Isaacs says, as he steers the boat away from the dock.
We move slowly through the water, down the river, over rocks and a ton of fish. The sun going down makes sparkling patterns under the water, like glitter has been randomly sprinkled by some mermaid fairy. The captain narrates our trip, pointing out birds and all the different types of marine life.
“I need to bring Ari here,” Eli says. “He’d love this.”
“He’s never been?”
“No. I’ve only been the one time. I never think about this place, you know?”
I think about it all the time, about our trip here. “Yeah.” I don’t want to, but I do.
The ride is amazing, but the best part comes when the boat moves over the mouth of one of the springs and the water turn from brownish to clear, crystal blue.
It takes my breath away.
The time we came, before, we were with Gigi, back when his parents were fighting a lot. I’m not sure what was going on, but I was terrified they’d get divorced. I hated the thought of Eli and Ari having to go through what I went through. I asked Gigi if we could do something fun with Eli, and she thought of this place. She was always good at coming up with the perfect solution—or she used to be.
That day the boat was crowded, and Eli and I were sitting at least this close, both of us staring down into the water, like we’re doing now. I remember thinking the water was the exact same color of his eyes, so blue. Still is. Back then, I watched him and worried. He was so quiet, so focused on the bottom of that boat, and I got scared that he might end up disappearing into himself, like I had after the divorce. Dad was gone, and Mom was sad, and I was lost and so alone. He was the one who pulled me out again, starting on that first day, on the porch, with the blueberry pie.
I couldn’t lose him, so I leaned forward on the boat, reached out my hand, inch by inch, desperate to hold him there, to keep him with me. I finally touched his back, and he didn’t move. I felt his heart beating. Or maybe that was my own pulse, pumping so hard. He turned around and his eyes met mine. And I fell in love with him.
I’d forgotten that part of the story. That was where it started—my monumental crush that ended in disaster.
Fast forward to now, to Captain Isaacs going on about the amount of water produced by that spring, I’m tempted to reach out again and touch Eli. To somehow keep him here, even though he’s wrong for me. Even though we’re wrong for each other.
Instead, he’s the one who reaches over, to where I’m holding the rail, and lays his hand on top of mine. Our eyes meet again and his shine bluer than the water, his dimple goes deeper than this spring.
I still love him.
It doesn’t last long, his hand on mine. Maybe three seconds before he removes it and we go back to watching the water and listening to the tour. Captain Isaacs points out a school of catfish beneath us and tells us they’re an invasive species. They’re not supposed to be here.
I sit upright. Those innocent science-y words catapult me back to reality.
I’m not supposed to be here, either. I have an Eli problem, but the driver’s license is supposed to take care of that.
My shoulders sag a little at the thought of losing him. His hand on mine felt so good. Not first kiss good, but still, good.
When we get back to the docks, Captain Isaacs shakes our hands and wishes us good luck, finishing with a wink. I wonder if thinks we’re a couple, or going to be one. Couples who aren’t chemically compatible need luck. Lots of it.
Is it possible, though? Could two people with enough love for each other make it, even without the explosive reaction?
No. Nope. That’s dangerous thinking, and I can’t
go there. Eli is my friend, and tomorrow I have a date with Caleb, and then I’ll get my license and this will be over.
Enjoy this, I tell myself, while it lasts. We wander around, find the ice cream stand, and we each have vanilla. We got strawberries on it last time, but today it’s colored sprinkles and it’s all so delicious. We walk through the rest of the park. The animals and rides are all gone, but I can only think of his hand on mine. If he wants to hold it again, he can’t because of the crutches.
That’s probably a good thing because I’m not sure I could say no if he did. The sun is setting and the park is nearly empty. It’s closing time. We make our way slowly to the parking lot, him because of his broken knee, me because I don’t want this to end. He digs in his pocket and holds out his keys.
“Do I have to drive home?” I hear the whine in my voice. It is not attractive.
He doesn’t seem to mind. “Ever heard of practice makes perfect?” He unlocks the passenger door. “The test is in two days.”
I scrunch up my nose. “Don’t you think I’m ready?”
He nods once. “You did a decent job.”
“Decent?” I gasp, trying to hide my grin. “There wasn’t a single broken bone.”
He screws up his mouth, hops on his good leg, opens the door, and sweeps his arm across to signal I should get in. “Go ahead, hurry up, before I change my mind.”
I stop in front of him, closer than I should be. I tilt my head. He squints in the setting sun. My heart beats fast. I try not to look at his mouth, tempting, like pie, pulling me in. “Thank you for this. I’m glad we came.”
“Anytime.”
His smile is sweet, and feels like more than a smile. It feels like an invitation. One I’ve never been more tempted to accept.
Chapter Twenty
Eli
The whole next day I’m trying not to pay attention to my brain, which is now constantly replaying yesterday and that boat ride, but I can’t shut it down. The endless loop just goes faster.
I’m really confused.
The purpose of this plan of mine—disproving her hypothesis—I’m having a hard time remembering why I started in the first place. To keep her from getting her heart broken? To change her mind about leaving Edinburgh? Something about her not becoming a cat lady?
There on the boat, I thought, yeah, she’s totally rethinking the whole thing. I touched her hand, and she looked at me, just like that day all those years ago. There I was again, drowning in those eyes, those big brown pools of quicksand that suck you in and eat you alive. I wanted to kiss her, bad, real bad, right there, with the captain probably watching our every move.
Will she give up the theory? Am I about to change her mind?
I don’t know. I just know that I want the answer to be yes.
In civics I sit next to Koviak and say nothing. He leans back in his chair and swats my arm. “What’s wrong with you, dude?”
I point to my crutches, leaned up against the desk next to me. “My knee is jacked?”
“No,” he says. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”
He waits.
I frown. “Nothing.” Everything. I tap out a rhythm with my pencil on the table while Mr. Palumbo tries to pull up a YouTube video.
Koviak groans. “Don’t even try to bullshit me. I’ve been watching you.”
“What are you talking about?”
I know exactly what he’s talking about.
He leans closer. “Come on. Why are you so afraid of her?” He lowers his voice, because the walls have ears at EHS, and so does Veronica, who sits right behind us.
“I’m not talking about this.”
“Why the hell not? You’re dumb as nails, Costas. She’s hot, and she’s available.”
I level my eyes at him in warning.
He doesn’t care. “Dude, look at you. You can’t even stand me talking about her being hot and available. You look like you want to kill me.”
I turn away from him. “You don’t understand.”
“What’s to understand?” He moves in again. “You’re a guy, she’s a girl. Two plus two equals four, broseph. Go for it. And just so you know,” he says, “I’ve been watching her, too. I see the way she looks at you. She’s always looking at you.”
She is?
“All right.” Mr. Palumbo clears his throat. “Settle, class.” He starts a boring video about the electoral college or some such shit. I hear none of it. I’m only thinking of what to do next. She’s either close to dumping her stupid theory, or she’s Nora Reid—stubborn as hell, and not likely to ever change her mind.
As the video drones on, I think of her, always her. That hair, that face, her body, and I ask a favor. Of God, I guess. I figure in the dark of the civics room, what do I have to lose? I start here:
If it’s true that you created science and the laws that run the universe and all that shit that keeps us alive and not slamming into other things in the galaxy—can you help a dude out with a girl named Nora Reid? Like, can you give me a sign?
I can’t wait to be with her in MJ, but on the way home from school, Nora is in a foul mood. She complains about her English essay—she got a ninety-four, which doesn’t get a lot of sympathy from me—then says she got an email from Emory saying her scholarship application is being reviewed. She wonders out loud what that might mean. Is it good, is it bad? She wants to know.
I give her some nice, long, side-eye. “I’m pretty sure it just means your application is being reviewed…?”
“Right, thanks.” she snaps at me, and doesn’t say anything else. She’s acting weird. Squirrelly.
When we get home, I park the truck and face her as she undoes her seat belt.
“Nor?”
“Yeah?” She’s not paying attention. She’s busy gathering up her backpack and a small box of brochures for the autism walk she’s helping plan in April. She does more for my brother than I do. I’m a piece of shit compared to her.
“Hey, Nora?” I try again. Finally, she looks my way. “Are we okay?”
Her nose scrunches. “Yeah, sure,” she says.
I’m not buying it. Something is bugging her. I hope it’s not me.
And also, I hope it is.
Samir the sophomore has the ball and I can almost see him working out the next part of the play in his mind. He’s a good player. Really dirty, which in lacrosse talk means he’s a killer. The problem is he’s better in practice than he is in actual games. He gets in his own head, and that’s the kiss of death on the field.
It’s not an easy sport. You gotta have speed, agility, stamina. It’s got the contact of football, requires the endurance of soccer, and the two-man game of basketball. You gotta be willing to share the glory, because it’s a total team sport. Also, you have to be smart.
I suck at school, but lacrosse I get. You have to read the field, and you have to run the plays nonstop in your head. Samir will get there in time, I think, but for now I want to kick his ass. He passes the ball and it’s picked up by the other team’s midfielder.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I yell at the top of my lungs. The JV coach eyes me and I half smile an apology. Like Coach Johnston on varsity, he insists that we at least try to show some sportsmanship. Be gentlemen. Not cussing Neanderthals.
Easier said than done when they’re playing like a bunch of morons.
We’re well into the first quarter, and during a break in play, I scan the sidelines for certain people. I’m relieved. She’s not here. Neither is Tex. Of course the first thing that comes to my sick mind is that they didn’t even make it to the game because they’re parked somewhere, making out and probably more. They’ll be engaged in two weeks. I shake my head and force closed that disturbing image.
Some freshman whose name I can’t remember botches another play. These assholes need more help than I can give them. Now Coach is yelling like a caveman from the sideline. I should pay attention, but I think of Nora. It’s funny. She’s a virgin. That’s not even
in question. She doesn’t even care about that, as far as I know. That’s not her priority. Her priority is…what?
Her priority is not ending up like her parents.
And so she waits, and waits. And kisses guys. And I wait, afraid she’ll convince herself that some other guy is the one she’s been waiting for.
I just need to convince her it’s me. It’s always been me.
I dig the end of one of my crutches into a divot in the field and wonder if I can make it happen.
How lucky would I be if she was mine? Well, not mine, because a person doesn’t belong to another person. We could be each other’s? She could be mine, and I could be hers. Damn that sounds perfect.
Play starts again, and I’m shouting directions to some of those freshmen who can’t even seem to remember the easy plays. This one works, though, and I’m yelling at them and trying to run down the sidelines with my crutches. Samir makes a goal, and the team and the crowd go apeshit, and even though we’re still down by one, there’s a chance this crew might get their act together in time to win.
I turn toward the still-roaring spectators, heading for the Gatorade, when something catches my eye. A wave of auburn hair next to a tall, goofy-looking Texan in a lacrosse T-shirt.
Nora.
Nora Reid, who never comes to my games because she “hates all organized sports” is in the stands. With him.
I crumple the paper cup in my hand, watching them as the crowd cheers on. I want to pick up this cooler and hurl it into the stands, knocking him into oblivion. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Why is she here with him? Because he asked her? Because she needs to kiss him?
She doesn’t see me. She might not even know I’m here. She’s too focused on him, staring up into his face. He’s bending down, and she’s smiling, and holy shit, are they gonna kiss? Right here? Right now?
No. No. No!
There’s an elephant sitting on my chest. I can’t breathe. The team must have done something good, because the crowd is going nuts again.
I turn away from them. Nameless freshman has just stolen the ball—I don’t give a shit.
The First Kiss Hypothesis Page 13