Chemistry of a Kiss

by Kimberly Krey

  I waited for Jett to step up and do the same, but he only gripped the wheel and shook his head. His jaw was clenched tight; perhaps he was holding back the words.

  “Tasha didn’t look like the world’s best kisser either,” I said, gearing him in the right direction. Heck, we were practically experts on the subject right? We were the ones studying the chemistry of a kiss.

  “Tasha’s not bad. She was probably just adjusting to his kissing style. They say that’s what’s best so you can, you know, get into a good groove.”

  I sat there, lips parted, poised to say something, but for the life of me I couldn’t think of what. I felt miffed. Just what made Jett the expert? “Sounds like someone’s been doing a little research without me,” I suggested.

  Jett chuckled under his breath and glanced over. “Truth? I have twin sisters who subscribe to chick magazines. When I was dating Becky Wilson during freshman year, I noticed a few of the articles were about kissing. What to do. What not to do. How to train clueless guys to settle down a little.” He shrugged. “I studied up.”

  Lucky Becky. And just what in the world was Jett trying to do to me anyway?

  It remained quiet as he drove straight to the Sweet Water Church. I glanced up at the illuminated chapel, raising a brow as he pulled into the vacant lot.

  “Free wifi,” Jett explained. He shut off the engine, cracked open his door, and climbed out. I watched as he proceeded to retrieve a blanket from the back cab, and then his backpack. “I’ve got a jacket for you, if you’d like.”

  He held it up, reminding me of the letterman jacket I had hanging on my bedpost. (Don’t judge.) I managed a nod, and Jett handed it over before tossing the blanket into the flatbed.

  I unlatched my seatbelt and helped out by grabbing the goods from the Burger Bar. Like the gentleman he was, Jett helped me into the bed of the truck. We finished our shakes while watching a few videos about kissing on his laptop. I offered to take notes in Jett’s notebook since I hadn’t brought my own, and that’s what I did. It was more of a robotic action, of course, since my mind was scattered in a million directions. I basically just wrote repeats of things I heard on the video word for word.

  Physical changes that take place as we anticipate a kiss. Pupils dilate. Cheeks and face flush with heat. Pulse races. Nostrils flare slightly.

  The next video spoke more about recognizing signs that your date wants to kiss. I jotted those down as well. Holds eye contact. Gets closer. Looks at lips. Draws attention to own lips.

  I inwardly knew I wasn’t great company, but Jett didn’t seem to mind. In fact, I realized as we packed up and prepared to leave that he was stuck in his head too. It wasn’t until he pulled into my driveway that he hinted to the thoughts that were keeping him.

  “Maybe we should give them a taste of their own medicine.”

  I tore my gaze off our flickering porch light (I’d have to replace that) and turned to Jett.

  He shifted in his seat. “Come to my locker tomorrow morning and we’ll give Tasha a show of her own.” A spark of determination lit those brown eyes of his, visible even in the low light.

  I was pretty sure fireworks were going off somewhere in my chest at the mere suggestion. A HUGE part of me liked what he was saying. Really liked it. But there was another part of me, somewhere, trying desperately to speak up about the fact that…that Jett might still really like Tasha. It was a stupid thing to get stuck on at a moment like this. After all, I had TJ, didn’t I? Or did I?

  “I don’t know,” I finally said. “This is starting to get messy. I just…I’m genuinely trying to be a good girlfriend here. I honestly thought I could just let my study dates with you count, make my mom and TJ happy, and then he had to go and mess it all up.”

  Jett stared at me for a blink, then he nodded. “Just think about it.” He unlatched his seatbelt then and climbed out of the truck. I watched as he circled the thing and opened my door as well. He offered me his hand next.

  I took it, trying to ignore the tingles at his touch, and climbed down. I freed my hand once my feet hit the ground, and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. I appreciated the fact that Jett was willing to walk me to the door, evident by the way he started heading down the walkway with me, but I was too anxious to get inside and work through the mess in my mind. Plus, if Jett’s lips tempted me even one more time before I could sort out this whole thing with TJ, I’d feel even worse.

  So I darted ahead of him, took the steps in two quick lunges, and turned back to see him standing on the walkway. “See you in class,” I said, and pulled open the door.

  Jett gave me a wave from where he stood. “Tomorrow.”

  Chapter Seven

  I had barely fallen asleep that night when a series of pings woke me up. Woodchips hitting my window. I recognized the sound since TJ had come over past bedtime once before.

  Still half asleep, I shuffled over to the french doors and pushed open the drapes. Yards below, TJ stood on the lawn, his tall figure illuminated by the flickering porch light. He waved a long, skinny arm.

  I sighed and motioned him up. May as well get this over with now. My bedroom was—like all of the bedrooms in the colonial style home—on the second floor. But TJ was tall enough to reach the banister of the small deck. I unlocked the door, twisted the knob to crack it open, and hurried back over to my bed.

  While I waited for TJ to let himself in, I thought back on the way he’d kissed Tasha earlier. I’d learned back in girl scouts that every fire needed fuel to feed the flames. That kiss was all the fuel I needed.

  I grit my teeth as I heard him grunting his way over the banister. A loud thump told me his landing on the balcony hadn’t been too cushy. Good. My eyes were adjusting to the lack of light in the room. Enough that when TJ stepped inside, closing the door behind him, I could see his figure from head to toe.

  “Hi,” he rasped.

  “What are you doing here, TJ?” I asked, straightening my shoulders and lifting my chin.

  “Tasha said she saw you guys at the Burger Bar.”

  The comment took me by surprise. “And you didn’t?” Sure, I hadn’t made eye-contact with him or anything, but I was pretty sure he’d seen me there.

  “No, I swear. I totally didn’t even know you guys were there.” He broke into a pace. “And suddenly Tasha plants this make-out kiss on me and I wasn’t expecting that at all, and then she tells me that you and Jett were there but that you guys just left.”

  “You kissed her, TJ.” Just hearing myself say it aloud made the ache tear through my heart once more.

  TJ hung his head. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “What were you thinking?”

  “Well…” He walked over to my closet and then spun around to face me once more. “You’re the one who said we should see other people.”

  Forget feeding the flame. That comment started an entirely new fire. I shot to my feet and readied myself to pull out the finger quotes. “TJ. What part of ‘it was my mom’s idea’ do you not understand?”

  “Yeah, but Tasha says that you’ve always wanted Jett.” He yanked out the finger quotes next. “She just thinks it’s pretty ‘convenient' that he’s the one you chose to ‘study’ with.”

  “Are you suggesting that we haven’t really been studying? Because I can show you the notes.” The second the words left my lips I regretted them. Our notes were centered around kissing of all things, and one article even managed to throw in the word genitals.

  “You know what?” I blurted before he could take me up on the offer. I felt the grip I had on TJ’s life, his future, his well being, slipping right from my grasp. My lip trembled as I forced out my next words. “You thought we were actually seeing other people, right? That’s what you thought? That’s why you kissed Tasha?”

  TJ rushed in to close the gap and took hold of my elbows. “Yes. You have to believe me. That’s exactly what I thought. But—”

  “No.” I threw up a hand and backed away. “That’s perfect. Le
t’s just leave it at that. We’re seeing other people now.” I turned away from him and hurried back to my bed. Something squeaked from the hallway, and I shot a look to my closed bedroom door. “Shh,” I hissed. “We probably woke my mom up.”

  TJ shifted his weight from one foot to the next, head turned toward the door as well. “Or Missy,” he whispered before taking slow steps toward me. He put his hands up. “I don’t want you to see anyone else,” he said, but I steeled my resolve.

  “Too bad.” I folded my arms, noting how he’d said he didn’t want me seeing anyone else. He hadn’t said he didn’t want to see other people himself. Perhaps I could use this as leverage. The moment he lost something really good by doing something dumb. Maybe it’d be motivation to change. Or maybe he’d even start doing some of the things on that list we made if he thought he could get me back somehow.

  I let the idea take the lead as I spoke up once more. “I can tell you don’t want a girlfriend who tries to…control your life,” I said, only somehow there were tears welling up in my eyes. Breaking things off with TJ hurt more than I thought it might. Especially since I was literally letting go of whatever control I had on the choices he made. He’d probably really go crazy now.

  My mind scrambled its way back to my original hope—the part that said maybe this would help him clean up his life and make a change once and for all.

  “We don’t have to stop seeing each other,” I said softly. “But I think we should date other people too.”

  “Yeah,” TJ growled. “You already said that.” He smeared a hand over his face, shuffled back to the balcony door, and flung it open. “Have fun with Pastor Boy.” He left the door open behind him, allowing a cold breeze to rush into my room.

  I pulled the throw off my bed and wrapped it around me, staring at the open crack. After a long while and a heartfelt prayer, I climbed off my bed and closed the door tight. I plopped onto the floor, snatched TJ’s old sweatshirt off the nearby bench, and curled up to it on the floor as I fell asleep.

  How was I supposed to help him now?

  Chapter Eight

  I spent exactly thirteen minutes in the parking lot agonizing over whether or not I should meet Jett at his locker. I kept replaying his offer in my mind. Come to my locker tomorrow morning and we’ll give Tasha a show of her own.

  A burst of warm bubbles rushed through me each time I considered it. I made up two pretty good reasons for wanting to take him up on the offer:

  1. I’d like to prove to myself that I could move on from TJ.

  2. I’d get a certain satisfaction out of making Tasha jealous. Obviously she wasn’t over Jett if she had to kiss TJ like that right in front of his face.

  But inwardly, I knew exactly why I wanted to fling open the entry to the east hall, stride over to Jett’s locker, and let him plant a heavenly kiss on me. It was the same reason I’d chased him down in kindergarten. The same reason I’d beat myself up over passing on my chance to kiss him in junior high. I liked Jett Bryant.

  So what was my problem? This should be perfect. I was finally getting what I wanted.

  But I wasn’t so sure that I was.

  First of all, I had a bunch of guilt surrounding the thing with TJ. I know he was the one who kissed someone else while we were dating, but I’d been thinking about kissing Jett a whole lot over the last few days. If I strode right up to Jett’s locker and locked lips with him now, I’d feel like a complete jerk. I should at least pause and have some sort of…grieving period, right?

  Plus, as much as I wanted to kiss Jett, and I really, really wanted to kiss him, I needed him to want me too. If we were doing it for the sake of making Tasha and TJ jealous, Jett would be thinking of her instead of me. I hated that idea.

  So that was final. I opted right out of that plan and walked into the school through the front entry instead, which I never do. I hoisted my backpack higher onto my shoulder and pushed my way through the swarm of band boys as they hummed out their notes in the foyer. I’d barely made it another two steps when Ms. Tolken grabbed onto my shoulder.

  “Harper,” she said, sounding oddly cheery. “Mr. Meadows wants you to head to the theater room to work on posters during first period. I’ll mark you down as excused.”

  I nodded, realizing this meant I wouldn’t see Jett. Relief clashed with a swelling tide of disappointment. Man, I really was a hormonal teenager. “Okay,” I said. “Thanks.”

  “How’s your assignment coming along?” Ms. Tolken hollered over the growing noise.

  I stared at her dark-rimmed glasses and chronically-bunned hair, feeling oddly transparent in the moment, as if the woman had not only hair and clothes from that of an eighty-year-old but the seasoned intuition as well.

  “Good,” I squeaked. “Yeah. It’s a…pretty interesting topic.” Shut up, Harper!

  A spark of mischief lit the woman’s eyes. “Yes,” she agreed. “It is.”

  Huh. I’d suspected that Ms. Tolken purposely handed me that red envelope. Her reaction fed the suspicion. I doubted that she memorized every topic she gave to every set of partners in her classes. But then again, she didn’t seem to have much of a life outside school besides possibly raiding garage sales at the old folk’s home.

  The bell rang out as I approached the opening to the east hallway. Jett would be heading to first period about now, like the rest of the school. Hopefully I wouldn’t bump into him. I decided to skip the trip to my own locker and hurry to the theater room. Mr. Meadows wouldn’t care if I brought my backpack.

  I weaved through one cluster after the next, hoping to hurry past the intersection of halls without incident, when I spotted a sight that drew my attention like a some sort of magic lure: Jett, of course. He wore a black tee shirt today, the color making him appear all the more that tall, dark, and handsome type girls always fall for.

  The thunderous booms in my chest reminded me that I hadn’t actually wanted to bump into him. Especially since it was easy to see that I’d come in from the front of the school instead of the east hall where he’d wanted to hook up this morning.

  “Hey,” he mumbled as he passed. He was quick to set his eyes back on the distant hallway ahead of him.

  I didn’t bother saying it back since he was already shuffling further down the hall. Besides, I wasn’t even going to class today. Would he think I was avoiding him? Part of me was, but I hadn’t come up with the Sadie’s posters idea. I considered that as I filtered into theater. The low rafters were set up in preparation for the set building, which should be taking place in the next few weeks.

  Bailey waved me to the floor where she sat hovered over a large sheet of butcher paper. A couple dozen markers lay scattered about, reminding me of the mess Missy made at home on the daily. I hunkered down, made myself cozy beside Bailey, and went to work. Mr. Meadows had scored a few boxes of donuts, so I snatched up a powdered one with red filling and tried not to moan in ecstasy at the taste.

  More students filtered into the room to help. Officers, cheerleaders, that type of thing. Thank heavens Tasha was suspended from the squad; I couldn’t handle the thought of having to see her. Each group filtered into a different area of the large drama room, keeping their distance for the most part. It came to my attention, though, that one group had camped awfully close to us.

  I felt my shoulders shrink a bit as I scooted back to create space. I was about to glance up and see who it was when a voice spoke up and answered the question in my head.

  “Hey.” The second one-word greeting he’d given that day.

  I knew my eyes were wide with surprise as I shot a look at him. “Jett?” Connor and a few other guys from the team sat beside him. “What are you guys doing?”

  “He’s captain of the basketball team,” Connor said. “Coach said we had to come help.”

  “Oh yeah,” I said. I forced my face down and stared at the capital D I’d just traced out with my pencil.

  “You guys have paints back here, don’t you?” Jett asked. “That’s some
thing I could get into.”

  “Yeah,” Connor agreed. “Paints are way better than markers.”

  Bailey tipped her head to one side and leaned far over the poster, her red marker poised over a Pearl Jam CD case she’d drawn in the corner. The theme for the year was 90’s grunge. “We’ve got a ton of paints in back.”

  Jett thumped the bottom of my shoe with his. “Let’s go get them.”

  I stared at the sign some more as Jett’s suggestion sank in. What he’d said might have been innocent enough, but the insinuative tone he’d used was far from it. I glanced up at him in time to catch a sideways grin tugging at his lips. Warmth stirred in my chest. My breath hitched.

  “Okay.” It came out in a whisper.

  Jett eased into a fuller grin, the look of triumph evident on his face, and offered his hand. My heart did one of those melty things because I was starting to really love how chivalrous he was.

  I placed my hand in his and secretly delighted in the feel of his touch. “This way,” I said under my breath. I didn’t exactly want to announce where we were heading because a very big part of me knew we were going backstage for more than a set of paints. That idea came to life as I pushed back the heavy black curtain and stepped into the narrow space.

  I held the fabric and spun in place to let Jett in as well. He stepped through, bringing that heavenly, spicy scent with him, and a rush of magnetic energy picked up. It felt like a living force, restlessly prodding for us to act on the attraction between us. One video we’d watched just last night suggested that kissing told couples whether or not they were well matched. Not just the whole theory of healthy babies and immune systems, but actual compatibility.

  I slowed my pace, somehow knowing that Jett wanted me to turn around. I wouldn’t do it on my own though. If he felt what I was feeling, he’d stop me somehow. And I very much hoped that he would. I slowed my pace even more.