“Excellent taste in colleges and footwear. We have a lot in common,” he says.
“Kismet,” I blurt out, all wide eyes the moment my face is out of his view. I cannot believe I said that!
Hudson gets in while I buckle, and I let myself glance at him as he fastens his belt and shifts to drive. His faded light-blue jeans and white hoodie make him look as if he stepped straight out of the Abercrombie catalogue. He’s wearing a Cardinals hat today, the wavy ends of his hair poking out of the back of his navy-blue cap. He isn’t chewing gum, but I smell the wintergreen evidence he left behind. Gum was in that mouth recently.
I wonder if he’s hoping to make out.
I look down at my tethered hands and pressed-together knees at that thought. I guess it wouldn’t really be our first kiss sense I sort of got that out of the way already, but the thought seems so forward now.
My ears boom with my pulse as we idle up to the first of what could be many stoplights. I wish I knew where we were going. I search for clues in my immediate area, glancing to the console to my left and the cracks of the seat on both sides. I slide my feet around slowly, pretending to stretch, but I’m really feeling around for something. Kites, maybe? Though the trees are perfectly still outside. A billboard for a new community being built on the outskirts of town sparks an idea.
“You know where you’re going? I mean…sense you’re new around here and all?” I force a calm smile on my lips, but underneath it all, I’m begging for him to slip. A few seconds pass of Hudson staring into the intersection ahead, his eyes hazed as if he’s thinking about it, but when the right side of his mouth begins to lift, I know I’m screwed.
“You don’t know where we’re going, do you?” He’s spot on. I lie.
“No! I mean, of course I know. Psh.” This is the most obvious way to lie…ever. My mastery of deceit is basically the equivalent of a five-year-old’s. The one thing I do know for sure is that if I look him in the eyes right now, I’ll crack and give myself up completely. Why my head turns, I have no idea.
Damn it!
“I knew it! You weren’t even listening when I asked, were you?” He slaps the steering wheel a few times as his laugh grows louder. “It’s kinda flattering, actually.”
“Not really.” My head turtles into my shoulders. I would really like temporary narcolepsy right now so I could just nap in a blink.
“Oh, it is! I mean, you agreed to come hang out with me and you had no idea about the cool thing we’re about to do! That means you agreed because…”
Don’t. Say. It.
“Kismet!”
Shit!
I roll my eyes, but the strength of my blush pushes my cheeks up into round apple-like balls. I shift in my seat and scour the car for more distractions, turning to the glove box in hopes of finding an owner’s manual or registration I can snoop through. Just my luck—a red, lacy thong slips out and falls at my feet. I really don’t want to pick that up.
“That’s just great,” I mumble, staring at the tiny piece of lingerie nestled between my shoes.
“Probably Abby’s,” Hudson concludes. There’s no probably about it. A BIC pen pops into my field of vision. I glance to my left and meet Hudson’s stare.
“Make-shift tongs. You know … for the …”
“Thong,” I finish for him, mouth forming a wry smile.
He chuckles and shrugs. I take the pen as he pulls into the intersection, and I cringe as I scoop up the undies with the tip of the ballpoint and fling them back into the glovebox. I slam it shut and drop the pen into the cup holder between Hudson and me.
“Caleb and I used to be pretty tight,” he says. I get the sense that he’s trying to transition away from what just happened to make me more comfortable. It’s sweet.
“Oh yeah? Did he come visit you a lot over the summers or something?” Caleb has been in my grade and in most of my classes since kindergarten, so I know he hasn’t lived anywhere else.
“I spent a lot of summers here. Actually…” As if I can sense him looking at me, I turn to meet what looks a bit like a boy blushing.
“What?” I’m totally blushing too.
His head swivels to glance at me then the road a few times before tucking his full bottom lip under his front teeth.
“You know what? Never mind.”
What he doesn’t know is that I’m like a police canine, and what he’s just done is the equivalent of dangling a bag of dope in front of my nose. You can’t almost tell me things and then just … not!
I slap at his arm, the first time we’ve touched since--well, we seriously touched!
“Ow!” He rubs his bicep for a moment and when our eyes meet, I give him my famous glare. “What? That hurt!”
“It so did not, and you cannot get away with that, Mr. Hudson Walsh!” My lecture draws out that laugh that’s been clawing at my heart little by little.
He slows in the left turn lane at the next stoplight, and when we stop I shove at him lightly. His hand reaches over quickly and grabs mine before I can completely recoil and we both freeze to stare at the sloppy way our hands have become tangled, fingers flexing in battle as if this is a major thumb-wrestling bout.
His eyes flick to meet my gaze, and my body feels as if someone has poured glitter down my spine.
“Okay, well … ” He relaxes his grip, gently weaving his fingers around mine in a more natural and dizzying way. “I’m kind of surprised that you don’t remember me.”
Words fail me, so I offer a dented brow begging for an explanation. A green arrow draws his attention and my hand falls flat on the console where he abandons it.
“Do you remember the birthday party at Roll and Bowl?”
I sit back and conjure up the bits and flashes that I have from that day. Caleb turned ten, and it was the first time I really noticed that he was cute--that any boy was cute, really. I know Shay was there, and her and I spent most of our time skating, trying to choreograph something to the Maroon 5 song we were obsessed with at the time.
“I can see you need a little help,” he says through a chuckle.
“I’m sorry. I remember it, but barely.” The blank spots are where he should be, I’m guessing, and I feel bad. I’m scanning my memory of the various faces but his just isn’t showing up. A seven-year difference for a guy is really like comparing two totally different people.
“I’ll give you a clue,” he says, just as the Mustang rocks over the pitted curb that leads into the Shoney Meadows Tennis Center. A glimmer tickles my gut as we pull in and park. A few older couples are volleying balls back and forth, but most of them pause and stare our direction when the Mustang roars. He kills the engine.
Hudson lifts his left knee up against the door and shifts so his elbow rests on the steering wheel. His smile is tight, maybe a little guilty. We came here after roller skating that day. The sun was going down, and it was warm out—the last few days of summer. I remember some hide-and-seek, a little tag, and…
“You!” I fold my arms over my chest and square off with him.
He squeezes his eyes shut so tightly that wrinkles pucker around them and his mouth shrinks into a sour form. There was a backward skating competition at that party. I’d practiced for it because I knew the skating rink always gave out prizes. Good ones. It came down to two of us, me and Caleb’s cousin who was visiting from out of town. When I won, his cousin pushed me onto my ass.
And the game of tag I remember playing out in this parking lot wasn’t really tag at all, it was Caleb and his cousin playing keep away with my prize: an enormous stuffed unicorn with a rainbow mane and tail—every pop-star loving pre-teen girl’s ultimate trophy.
“You threw it on the roof!” My head slowly falls to the side while I level him with a look of scorn.
“I did.” He winces. It’s a little adorable.
“I cried!” I tighten my jaw to look strong.
He lifts his right hand and covers his eyes, spacing his fingers just enough to peek at me.
&
nbsp; “You did.” He holds his hand in place for a few seconds, just long enough for my stern expression to give in. When it does his hands fall to his lap, then the pocket of his hoodie. He pulls out something small enough to remain hidden completely in his palm.
“Frankie Torres, please accept my apology.” His fingers unfurl to reveal a tiny stuffed unicorn keychain. The head is too big for the body, and little threads from the fur are falling off in his hand—rainbow threads. It’s cheap and corny as hell, and I love it.
I pluck it from his hand and hold it up with my fingertips, rotating it slowly as I let my eyes lose focus on the pony and find their way to the incredible green ones sitting just one sportscar console away from me.
“It matches my hair,” I say, holding it close to the tips of my hair that have fallen over my shoulder. The blue is fading out a little, and I was thinking about dying it back to match my brown, but now I might just add to it.
Hudson doesn’t speak, but his eyes glow with hope.
“I love it,” I say, hugging it close to my chest. “You’re forgiven.”
“Yes!” His whispered celebration is accompanied with a tiny fist pump, and he turns back to face the wheel, stopping just before he turns the key.
“And no, this isn’t our date. It’s just part one.” The family dimple lights up the side of his face and his eyes hover on mine for a second or two more before checking the mirrors and firing up the car. I’m glad it’s not our date, because I would hate for this to be over already.
Keeping with the theme, Hudson heads south a few more blocks to Roll and Bowl. I don’t have the heart to tell him that it’s been shuttered, but it doesn’t seem to dash his spirits when he pulls into the vacant lot. He finds an abandoned shopping cart and convinces me to get in so he can push me around like it’s a chariot, and when the basket starts to tip over on a curb, he braces my fall and scoops me into his arms like a bride. I’m not sure what I’m crushing on more, the softness of his hoodie, the faint scent of spices and honey etching its way into my memory or the vibration in his chest when he laughs as he holds me.
It’s all going so incredibly, well…kismet. And then comes another word I taught Shay during the same game: Happenstance.
I’m cradled in his arms, my hair twirling in the breeze while he swings me around in half circles that are starting to slow more and more. I’m expecting the kiss. I’m ready for it, and the only thing my eyes can focus on is the way his teeth are grazing his bottom lip with both a sense of hesitation and urgency.
“You know, my cousin’s always had a bit of a thing for you. He was kinda pissed when I told him I was taking you out today.” The lightness in his eyes tells me that he doesn’t have a clue how deep that little piece of information burrows. I’m a terrible bluffer, though, so all it takes is the slight flinch I feel touch at the sides of my mouth and eyes.
First, his chest stiffens with the deep intake of air. Then a tiny dent forms between his brows.
“That kiss…”
My heart stops, and there’s no way he doesn’t see the hard knot that’s lodged in my throat. My eyes drift up until I meet his waiting stare. He doesn’t ask right away, and his shifting focus from one eye to the other makes me feel as if he’s reading me. There’s really no way to explain what that kiss was and all that it meant or was supposed to mean. Thinking about it now, I don’t think it was ever really about my crush on Caleb at all. It was about me finding a way to take chances before I missed them.
“You were aiming for my cousin.” He holds his breath and so do I. We’ve known this version of one another for the equivalent of an afternoon, but I care enough about his opinion of me not to lie. The slow breath I draw in through my nose as my eyes slit in guilty admission gives him the truth he deserves. His lips wrinkle and he nods; I’m not getting kissed today. I guess I should be glad that I took the one I did when I did, but I’d trade it so fast for the one I was anticipating a heartbeat ago.
“I should get you home. Cop’s daughter and all,” he says, feigning an amused laugh. He lowers my feet to the ground and releases me before stuffing his hands in his pockets and spinning to walk around the front of the car to the driver’s side. The passenger door is still wide open so I inside. When we both slam the doors shut, I give one more attempt to save whatever this was starting to become.
“You know, I’m a retired cop’s daughter. Totally not the same.”
An airy laugh ticks up his mouth, but the smile doesn’t stick. He turns the car on and adjusts the mirror that doesn’t need adjusting, then looks over his shoulder without making eye contact with me as his gaze passes by.
“He’s still got a gun, so…” Hudson’s joke is half-hearted.
Neither of us react, despite how funny and witty that was—he is—and the trip home is polite, but awfully quiet.
FOUR
THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN my life on Friday afternoon before the dance and my life right this minute in the middle of the quad before first hour is lightyears. It’s weird to feel both proud and regretful of being bold. A significant piece of my heart wishes I could erase the last few days of rash decision making and go back to being the girl with just a single photo in her senior yearbook.
I can’t. And I probably shouldn’t. But watching Hudson and Caleb walk in sync through the main campus doors and turn opposite directions sure does boil everything to the surface.
“I saw the Mustang pull up,” Shay says as she stops beside me. I filled my friend in on my date last night. She’s a good listener when I really need one. I usually wait for her in the parking lot so we can walk in together, but I didn’t want to chance running into both Walsh boys at the same time, so we agreed that I’d get here early and wait somewhere out of the way.
“Yeah. I watched them both walk in, like a YA episode of the bachelor.” Nobody got a rose.
My punishment awaits in the form of an A.P. English test I’m about to bomb in first hour. I didn’t study, which is a first. And I didn’t read Othello over the weekend, though I suppose on some basic level I rather lived it, minus the murder plot of the winning suiter. Okay, maybe I’m being dramatic.
With slumped shoulders, I slide my feet along the grass to the walkway with minutes to spare before the final bell rings. My heavy backpack, weighed down with an old-school tome of the complete works of Shakespeare, slips down my arm and I catch it on my wrist. The grunt I let out is more of a moan, and I guess my woe-is-me demeanor pushes my bestie to the breaking point. She tugs my bag away from my arm and holds it hostage on the other side of her body. I’m too exhausted to argue. I didn’t sleep last night. I sat up and replayed the almost kiss and thought about the little tip that Caleb has always had a thing for me. I came to one resolute conclusion—I don’t care. I want Hudson to be the one who has a thing for me!
“Shay, I don’t even care. Keep my backpack. I’m about to fail my first test … ever.” A pathetic laugh bubbles from my lips and I’m on the verge of tearing up.
“I wrote the fortune.”
I’m not sure if her words didn’t sink in right away or if I’m just too exhausted to lose my mind, but my initial reaction is flat.
“You wrote the fortune.” I don’t know why I think repeating it will help. Maybe if I do it again?
“You wrote…”
“Yes, I wrote the damn fortune. I cut it out and swapped the real one for that one when you weren’t looking. Your real fortune was something like take solace in your health or some shit like that.” She shoves my backpack into my chest and flings her hands dismissively, frustrated that I’m not reacting. I am, though…or I’m about to. I’m just processing.
“I wanted you to just try for once!”
I laugh out pathetically at her reasoning.
“With Caleb?” I shake my head, baffled.
“Yes, and … with life! With being young! I just wanted you to see what it was like to feel something beyond your books and academic field trips.”
“I love my a
cademic field trips!” I’m probably more fired up over her museum slur than I should be.
“Bullshit! You pretend to love them. What you really loved was that party we went to. And the dance. And you even loved the fact that you kissed someone totally unexpected. And he likes you!” Her hands have found her hips, and I’m so pumped with adrenaline, I could shove her off balance right now. Thing is though? She’s right. I did like it all.
“Shay, I messed everything up. Hudson liked me for a blip, and that blip has sailed.” My heart is pounding despite the words I’m saying. I think renewed hope is beating in my chest. Or I’m about to be sick. Either or. I can’t tell the difference anymore.
“Blips don’t sail, and like I said…all of this is kismet anyway.” She has a point on blips, but she’s still pushing the kismet thing.
“You wrote the fortune.” I shake my head and meet her stare, challenging her. “It’s not kismet if your best friend is the one writing the story for you.”
“Yeah, but Hudson? He’s not the story I wrote. You did that! You … or …”
“Kismet.” I finish for her. I don’t even say the word in the snarky tone I’ve been taking. My focus shifts to the front doors of the school, the bell just starting to ding, which means blue late slips will be coming out soon. If I run to my first hour right now, I’ll slide in right before the door closes and BS my way through an essay
Or…
My shoulders start to rise and fall with purposeful breaths, nostrils flaring like a bull. My first hour is to the right. But Hudson went left.
“It isn’t kismet, Shay. It’s not kismet at all.” The first syllable of her argument starts to pop out of her lips, but before she can speak, I skip backward on my heels and clap my hands a few times in an effort to buoy my confidence before facing the school doors. My jog turns into a sprint until I reach the entrance. Before I pull the handle, I look over my shoulder to catch my friend’s wide eyes.
“It’s carpe freaking diem!” I shout.
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