The Truth About Boys: A Stolen Kiss Novel

by Shana Norris

  “Mimi already in bed?” I asked, popping the top off the cup of coffee I’d grabbed at the 24-hour gas station on my way home.

  Pop waved a hand. “She’s in bed, but you know she’s still awake.”

  “Right,” I murmured into the steaming cup, studying his profile. A wave of sadness washed over me. I thought of Lydia’s comment—and her face. How is your grandfather? Now, looking at Pop, it sounded more like, How can you leave? What will happen if there’s an emergency?

  Pop had some lung issues that left him out of breath. He had a cough that didn’t go away.

  Mimi’s arthritis kept her from moving around like she used to. She’d fractured her hip last year.

  The reasons to stay close to home seemed endless.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Pop asked, scowling.

  “Like what?” I asked casually. I buried my eyes in my coffee cup.

  “Like you expect me to drop dead any moment,” Pop snapped.

  My neck grew hot. “I’m not.”

  “I’m old, Kate,” Pop said, “but I’m not dead just yet.” He thumped his chest. “I’ve still got some life left in this ticker.”

  I laughed. “You certainly have more life left in you tonight than I do.”

  His expression softened as he finished the last of his cake. “Really, Katie, you don’t have to worry about Mimi and me. We can take care of ourselves. You focus on school. Have you signed up for all of your classes yet?”

  The thought of starting college in just a couple of months left me tingling all over, despite the reservations I had about leaving Mimi and Pop.

  “I have my schedule all planned,” I blurted, resting my arms on my knees. Some coffee spilled onto my hand. His eyes twinkled mischievously—of course he knew that would excite me. I was so organized that I was asked to design our high school’s year planner. Twice. “I have a rough sketch of the next four years, though they only let me register for classes for this semester at this time. They have an amazing music program and an awesome business program, too. And I can start business classes right away because I’ve already done all the math prerequisites!”

  I recited the Music for a Bachelor of Science requirements, then ticked off which business classes I’d have to take for a minor. I excelled at math, but I lived and breathed music. I dreamed of hearing my compositions played in movies and on TV. I wanted to work with remixing software to get just the right sound for my productions. Math and music were combined in the production studio, and I loved figuring out just the right ratios of bass, treble, and midrange.

  “Don’t stretch yourself too thin your first year,” Pop warned. “You’re still young, you have plenty of time.”

  “I know.” I set my coffee cup down on the small table between us. A few years ago, Pop retired from the small computer corporation he’d worked for all his life. He’d worked hard—harder because of me—but I knew he’d never really gotten the career he’d hoped for. Retiring comfortably wasn’t on the table—unless I could provide for them. “I’m tough, Pop. I can handle it.”

  “I know,” he told me, his eyes a bit misty. “But most of the time when I look at you, I still see that little pink baby I held in the hospital.” He shook his head. A wisp of hair fell over his ear. “A really loud, screaming pink baby.”

  We laughed and I rolled my eyes at him. Pop’s laughter turned to a cough and he slapped at his chest, his face reddening.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, trying to mask the worry in my voice.

  Pop waved a hand at me, but he kept coughing, his breathing now an achingly familiar rattle and groan. Jumping up from the couch, I dashed across the little room toward the kitchen to get him a glass of water.

  I snatched the tallest glass I could find out of the cupboard and held it under the faucet, letting a stream of cool water fill up the glass until it was heavy. A little water spilled over the side when I jogged back toward the den to hand it to Pop. A letter on the small kitchen table caught my eye—a letter with the familiar letterhead of Greensboro College on it.

  My stomach turned into a balloon of excitement. Maybe it was the letter I’d been waiting for, with information about my future roommate. I snatched it off the table and shoved it into my back pocket.

  My hands were shaking with anticipation when I handed the water to Pop.

  “Thank you, Katie-bug,” he said in a raspy voice. He drank deep from the glass.

  “No problem, Pop.” I plopped down on the arm of his chair and pulled the envelope from my pocket, eagerly tearing through the soft white paper with my fingernail. The folded letter fluttered to my lap. “Why didn’t you tell me this ca—”

  But as my eyes scanned over the words, the butterflies in my stomach twisted into a knot with wings. It wasn’t about my roommate or anything else I’d been waiting for. It was a notice, complete with bold red letters, about a late tuition payment. In my excitement, I hadn’t even noticed the bursar’s office return address in the top left corner.

  Pop squeezed my hand while he sipped and swallowed, then waved like the letter was a fly he could shoo away. “I don’t want to hear a thing about it, Katie.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but he shook his head firmly.

  “Not a word. Mimi and I have it taken care of. No ifs, ands, or buts.” Pop flicked his eyes to his wrist and let out a soft tut. “Now, I think it’s time for us both to go to bed.”

  The chair creaked as he got up and planted a kiss on my forehead before walking down the short hallway to his bedroom. I twisted the tuition letter in my hand. A private university wasn’t exactly the best idea for a fixed-income family. I’d gotten a few of the hundred or so scholarships I applied to, but they only covered a small portion of what I needed. But Mimi and Pop wouldn’t let me settle for anything less than exactly what I wanted.

  Pop poked his head out of his bedroom door. “Good night, Katie-bug.”

  I tried to smile at him encouragingly, but I couldn’t help but worry about whether the DJ gigs and my job at Mountain Dairy would be enough to make any meaningful contribution to my four years at Greensboro.

  A heavy feeling—mixed with aches from lugging all of my DJ equipment back and forth—accompanied me up the stairs to my room. The white unicorn lamp I’d had since I was six years old was already turned on, waiting for me.

  Now, I really smiled. Mimi never wanted me to walk into a dark room. She was always doing little things like that. I would miss those things after I left home for school.

  I’d miss everything about my room, too, I thought as I looked around the small bedroom I’d grown up in. The walls were now painted a deep chocolate brown, though they’d been mint green last summer. My best friend and artist extraordinaire Ashton was always changing up my décor based on the music I was currently listening to.

  I shook my hair out of its bun, my classic “effortless DJ” look. Speaking of music, I needed to get my setlist ready for the next party I was DJing. I pushed aside the stacks of CDs, bottles of nail polish, and pictures of my friends on my nightstand, clearing a space for the dinner plate Mimi had left for me. I plopped down on my bed and fished out my laptop and phone from my bag. I’d send a quick text to Ashton before I got started on the setlist. She would definitely have something inspiring to say about the tuition bill Mimi and Pop were stuck paying—she always did.

  But when I looked at my phone, there was already a text from Ashton.

  Guess who I just saw? Hint: your hot ex. At Paradise Peak Golf.

  A small shiver ran up and down my back. Miguel Sanchez. I’d dated him for most of my junior year, until he went to college in Philadelphia.

  I stared at her text. I hadn’t seen Miguel in a year, not since the day before he left for school. We spent the entire day at the swimming hole and had dinner on a giant red blanket under the stars. I had moved on from that relationship—or at least I thought I had. But now my heart beat fast at the thought of running into Miguel around town.

 
Not for the first time since our breakup, I wondered what might have happened if we hadn’t broken up. Could we have made long distance work?

  I sighed and collapsed on my bed, clasping a crocheted throw pillow to my chest. Suddenly, the guilt about tuition payments and the night’s DJ disaster vanished from my thoughts. Lingering in their place was the memory of Miguel’s gorgeous dark eyes sparkling when we said good-bye.

  Chapter 3

  The bell over the door at Mountain Dairy chimed just before a loud voice belted out “Kate!” From their white- and red-checkered tables, everyone gave Ashton and her boyfriend, Carter, a brief startled look before turning back to their sundaes and ice cream cones.

  Ashton always knew how to make an entrance, from her voice to her look. This summer, she’d given up the long, orange mermaid hair she’d had for the past year for a dark purple bob. Today, she wore a long zebra-print skirt with a hot pink tank top. Her favorite pair of ratty bejeweled sandals snapped across the floor as she strode to the counter.

  Carter looked like her complete opposite. He was pale and freckled while Ashton’s skin was soft brown, and he dressed like what Hannah called “jock-prep.” I mean, even his name sounded like a brand of polo shirt. Today, he was sporting a nice pair of dark jeans and a Carolina Panthers T-shirt. They started dating last summer, though Ashton had had a secret crush on him since we were eight.

  “Hey, guys.” They slid into the empty barstools at the counter in front of me. “What’ll it—”

  “A double sundae with chocolate syrup, M&Ms, strawberries, pineapple, and a cherry on top,” Ashton told me. Her usual order. “Oh, and whipped cream.”

  Carter made a face. “I don’t know how you can eat all of that together. Mint chocolate milkshake for me, please.”

  Ashton fake-gagged. “I don’t know how you can eat that. Mint is disgusting.”

  “Keeps my breath fresh so you’ll keep kissing me,” Carter teased, leaning toward her with his lips puckered.

  Ashton put her hand up. “I don’t kiss while I’m waiting for ice cream.”

  I rolled my eyes at the two of them and got to work on their orders. Ashton and I had been best friends since the first day of second grade. We were both wearing sparkly rainbow-colored headbands and so, of course, we instantly became friends.

  Our friendship had always been that simple. And about that sparkly.

  Over the ice cream cone–shaped tip jar, I spotted Ashton lean her head on Carter’s shoulder. I liked Carter, but it was hard being the third wheel while the two of them were making googly eyes at each other and sneaking kisses every chance they got. Ashton was going into a studio art program at Appalachian State while Carter stayed behind in Asheville to study Health and Wellness at UNC. I’d already put in countless hours listening to Ashton moan about their upcoming separation and how would they ever survive and this would put a huge strain on their relationship and why couldn’t Carter just transfer to Appalachian State so he could be at her side?

  But they were so cute together—and Ashton was so happy—I couldn’t hold a grudge.

  Plus, it helped me remember that not having a boyfriend meant that I didn’t have to worry about what the fall would do to our relationship. I already had enough to worry about with leaving Mimi and Pop behind.

  The door to the back swung open, and my manager, Luka, stepped out. He wrinkled his nose as I dropped chunks of pineapple onto Ashton’s sundae. “I know that unnatural conglomeration of flavors has to be Ashton McNeil’s order,” he commented.

  “You people have no taste for adventure,” Ashton shot back, waving a red plastic spoon at us.

  “Sorry, chickadee, but I hate strawberries,” Luka said. He reached up to smooth a hand over his moussed, swept-back brown hair. “Throw in some cheesecake and raspberries and you got yourself a real sundae.”

  “What happened to just plain ice cream with chocolate syrup on top?” Carter asked with a sigh.

  “Boring,” the three of us said in unison.

  I literally put the cherry on top of Ashton’s sundae and slid it across the counter to her before starting on Carter’s milkshake. “So what are you two doing today?”

  “We’re going to see the new exhibit at the Blue Ridge Art Gallery,” Ashton said, her eyes shining. She lived for art like I lived for music.

  “I don’t even know what this exhibit is all about,” Carter said with a shrug, “but Ashton said there would be nudes, so I’m all for it.” He grinned and grunted when Ashton elbowed him in the ribs.

  Luka’s eyes sparkled. “Maybe I’ll have to stop in and check it out later. I need to practice my art appreciation skills a bit.” He turned to me, raising one perfectly plucked brown eyebrow. “What do you say, Kate? Want to be my date to look at naked people in paintings?”

  I finished Carter’s milkshake and capped off the cup with a round bubble top. “That’s not even the weirdest thing you’ve ever asked me. I’d love to, but I’ve got some work to do at home,” I told him. “I’ll have to take a rain check on the naked paintings.”

  Luka pouted and crossed his arms over his starched and spotless Mountain Dairy T-shirt. He left all of the ice cream scooping to us underlings so he wouldn’t ruin his clothes. “You are no fun at all, Kate Watts.”

  Luka left us at the counter and headed back into the office to do whatever it was he spent his days doing. I leaned against the counter to talk with Ashton and Carter.

  “So Hannah left this morning?” I asked.

  Ashton nodded and frowned. “Lydia was crying over it. You’d never think that Hannah would be back here in a little over a month.” She sighed deeply, letting her shoulders drop as she halfheartedly stabbed at her ice cream with her red spoon. “By then, I’ll be on my way to Boone and won’t even get to hang out with her.” She looked at me with tears in her big brown eyes. “And you’ll be in Greensboro. And Carter will still be here. And … and why do we have to grow up and go to college anyway?”

  Oh boy. I shouldn’t have opened my mouth. These days, Ashton was crying at the drop of a hat. I mean, my emotions were like a roller coaster, too, but I was trying to stay cool and collected. At least outside of my own head.

  If Hannah were here, she’d distract Ashton by suggesting a crazy road trip or shopping spree. Or some insane combination of those two.

  “Here, have another scoop,” I said, quickly reaching for my trusty ice cream scoop even though Ashton had barely even started the sundae she already had. Ice cream was my solution to everything.

  “Kate,” she said, sniffling loudly, which didn’t stop her from easing the extra scoop into her bowl. “You have to embrace your feelings. You can’t pack it all away.”

  “You definitely can, Ash,” Carter quipped, laughing as Ashton vigorously nodded her head. “I’m going to go broke buying you sundaes.”

  “Do you have an idea for your gallery exhibit yet?” I asked, hoping to take Ashton’s mind off our fall plans—I could only give away so many free scoops. A new gallery had opened in town a few months back; within five minutes of its grand opening, Ashton had convinced the owner to let her have an installation. It would be the first time her art was displayed in anything other than a showcase in our kind-of-pathetic high school art department.

  Her eyes lit up immediately. “I have the perfect idea. I’ll need both of your help setting it up in about a week, once I get the pieces ready.”

  “No problem,” Carter told her, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “You know I’ll help you with anything.”

  “So will I,” I added. All of Ashton’s insanity came out in her artwork, and the city needed to see it.

  As I scooped out a junior version of Ashton’s messy sundae for myself, I glanced up in time to see a vaguely familiar form appear on the sidewalk outside Mountain Dairy. It took me only a second to recognize where I’d seen him before.

  “The DJ booth crasher,” I muttered, glaring at the guy’s back as he looked up and down the street.

  “W
hat?” Ashton asked. She and Carter both turned to look toward the large plate glass windows decorated with dancing ice cream cones and milkshakes. Flannel-Boy hitched a beat-up guitar case on his shoulder before setting off down the sidewalk once again.

  “That guy,” I said, my hand clenched tightly around the ice cream scoop. I barely noticed the ice cream dripping onto the floor. “He came to the party I was working last night and tried to take over my DJ booth. He’s a complete douche.”

  “That’s Rory Garrison,” Carter said.

  I narrowed my eyes at Carter. “You know him?”

  Carter swallowed milkshake and shook his head. “Not really. I know of him. He moved in next door, with his brother Reid and his family. He moved from Atlanta or something. Mrs. Garrison, Rory’s sister-in-law, loves to complain, so I know way more about the guy than I’d ever care to. Like, he only eats pasta and is always borrowing the car without asking.”

  The scene from the night before replayed in my head. Fire shot through my fingers as I got annoyed all over again. Being new in town didn’t excuse him for being a jerk. “So basically, he’s always insufferable?”

  “Damn, Kate. I haven’t seen that look on your face since Mr. Teagan gave you a D in gym,” Ashton said slowly.

  “Well, I haven’t talked to him,” Carter said. “He’s been in town for a couple of weeks, but he’s always going off somewhere and coming home at weird hours. He doesn’t really seem interested in talking.” Carter shrugged and slurped the last of his milkshake.

  “Could’ve fooled me.” I threw the ice cream scoops into the small sink so hard that an elderly couple glared at me from their table. “Thought he wouldn’t shut up.”

  “Sounds like a douche,” Ashton said, licking chocolate syrup off her spoon. “I can’t believe he tried to infringe on your DJ booth.”

  “He’s probably bored with Asheville and looking for ways to entertain himself,” Carter said. “Since it’s not Atlanta.”