by Karole Cozzo
“If not a date . . . well, at least a friend,” he clarifies.
I force myself to make eye contact with him. “You’ve been really pissed at me. I didn’t think that had changed.”
But Alex looks away, staring at the space over my shoulder, and shoves his hands into the pockets of his tuxedo pants. I can’t help but admire his profile, his clean-shaven jaw and the softness of his lips.
“I haven’t been pissed for a few days now.”
Really? What had changed? He hadn’t even spoken to me.
“Why not?”
He continues to evade my eyes and squares his jaw. “I saw something that changed my mind. I saw a speech.”
I inhale suddenly, with surprise. What?
Had Mrs. Adamson made a copy of the DVD? Had she been entirely careless and just left it lying around? Or had she actively made a point of sharing my most private moment with my classmates?
I tighten my grasp on my bag. “How did you get the DVD?”
Alex shakes his head, still staring into the distance. “I didn’t see any DVD,” he answers. Only then does he bring his gaze to mine. “I was there.”
My heart stops in my chest. Again . . . what?
I am too gobsmacked to formulate the obvious question.
“I wasn’t trying to snoop,” he explains. “But . . . Mrs. Adamson printed out your registration form. It was sitting in the printer when I went to pick up my English assignment.”
His head is lowered, his brows drawn. “I should have asked you before coming, but . . . we weren’t exactly on speaking terms. And I just had to see . . . I wanted to know what you would say when you thought people you knew weren’t listening.”
I’m still a few steps behind him, trying to wrap my head around all of this. How did I possibly miss Alex? How had his presence gone unnoticed?
Then I remember the night of the contest, my staunch refusal to turn around and assess the intimidating crowd and the glaring lights that impeded my vision.
The way I made a mad dash from the room when I finished my speech.
“I would have told you I was there, but you ran away before I could.” Alex pauses, swallowing hard, his Adam’s apple nervously pressing against his neck. “Then I was too . . .” His voice falls off, even as he tries a second time to spit his words out. “Then I was too . . .”
His unfinished sentence hangs in the air for an eternity.
“Too what?”
Alex’s eyes don’t waver as he looks at me. His voice is almost harsh. “I was too sad, Jordyn, okay? I was too sad.” He closes his eyes for a second, full lashes beating against the top of his cheeks. “You were so mature and so brave.” His eyes fly open. “You were so real, and more than ever, I wished . . . I wished things were different.”
Alex tries to smile, and cracks his knuckles once, but his attempts at casualness don’t work. “I’ve been kind of miserable since then,” he admits, letting out an awkward chuckle. “So when you e-mailed me, I knew something had to change.” He gives me a goofy smile. “So I decided to show up. So we could go back to being friends, or whatever.”
For the second time in my life, Alex Colby stands in front of me, conceding to the idea of friendship.
No. Freakin’. Way.
Not this time.
It’s now or never, the moment I’ve thought about nearly a million times since I stood in that rainy parking lot, weak and pathetic and silent.
If I managed to share my most private emotions with a crowd of strangers, then I have to be able to share them with the person I care about the most.
So I don’t laugh along with him. We could turn this into a joke, or we could get serious.
There’s a lot at risk. My social survival at school. Life as I know it, in general.
My heart.
When I delivered my speech, I learned the reward was sometimes worth the risk. I hope to God giving Alex my heart is worth the risk, too.
“I’ve been miserable, too,” I admit. “I’ve been miserable way longer than a few days.”
Alex looks pained and his hand reaches toward mine, just barely covering it.
“Everything you put out there in the parking lot . . .” I take a final deep breath and forge ahead. “I want it. I want all those things, Alex. I want you.”
His hand tightens ever so slightly over mine.
“It might be hard. Leighton will likely make my life a living hell. She’ll have an entire group of people out to get me. They’ll keep saying awful things about me—and my brother, well, she’s already called him every name in the book.”
Alex’s eyes darken and he opens his mouth to say something, but I put a hand up to stop him. “But I’m done trying to protect myself from the hurt that may or may not come.” I swallow hard and stare at my feet. “Turns out trying to do so causes a way worse kind of pain. And I don’t want to hurt like that anymore. I don’t want to push you away.”
Alex takes one step closer. His arms tighten around me, and he pulls me to his chest. “I wouldn’t let you anyway,” he whispers. He rests his chin atop my head and I hear and feel him sigh with relief against me. Alex’s hands glide over my shoulders, and linger in a path down my back. Then he tightens his grasp again, holding me close for an eternity, like he never wants to let me go.
The warmth of his body melts into mine. I feel the firmness of his thighs, the strength of his chest, where his heart is pounding in a rapid flutter.
Since last summer, Alex has thrown his arm around my shoulder a million times. He has given me countless silly fist bumps. He has even playfully ruffled my hair.
But Alex hasn’t hugged me, not like this.
I haven’t had physical contact with Alex in so long and I am suddenly, painfully aware of exactly how badly I’ve been craving it.
I am back in that closet at the tennis club, remembering exactly how perfect kissing Alex felt. I’d like to do it again.
Except, I suddenly remember, we are standing on a red carpet. There are TV cameras nearby. And my father is hovering in the entranceway. Probably best to stick with a hug.
I allow myself a minute, then take a step back. I nod my head in the direction of the ballroom and my dad scurries inside, like he wasn’t staring. The DJ is gearing up inside and I see flashing lights from the dance floor.
I don’t let go of his hand, though. It is warm and strong and perfect, especially when he intertwines his fingers with mine.
“So, you want to go check out the party?”
Alex smiles at me, his first real, huge smile since . . . this. Since just about forever, it feels like. “Might as well,” he answers. He tugs at his lapels and a familiar teasing light enters his eyes. “Be a shame to waste this much dapper . . .”
I swat his chest with my clutch, happy and relieved that Alex is still Alex, even now that Alex is mine.
We enter the hotel and I leave my wrap in the coat closet before we join the party.
Inside the main ballroom, it’s a black-tie carnival. In addition to the buffet, there is an entire dessert room, with chocolate fountains, funnel cake fries, and even cotton candy. There are games, raffles, and face painting. The DJ is playing loud, cheesy music, and the younger kids never leave the dance floor, some trying to do their best to follow along with the Cha Cha Slide and Chicken Dance in wheelchairs or with legs in braces.
Their faces are happy, washed with color and flashing lights, as they enjoy their stint as celebrities. One night where they shine instead of standing out.
Phillip seems pretty happy, too, once he discovers the video-game room sponsored by Nintendo.
I introduce Alex to my parents. Their eyes fly to our hands, which are still linked. They’ve never seen me with a boy, not one that I’m introducing as mine. My mom’s lips twitch a bit as she tries to keep her smile at bay. My father pales slightly.
Then I introduce Alex to Phillip. Alex is as kind, compassionate, and genuine as I’d expect him to be.
Phillip is as . . .
well, Phillip as I’d expect him to be. And that’s okay. I’m not bothered. I’m not bothered at all.
After Alex and I eat, I allow him to coerce me onto the dance floor for more silly selections, like the Cupid Shuffle and some other group dance I’d never bothered to learn.
I roll my eyes at Alex as I agree to join him. “I guess so. As long as we’re just being ironic.”
“Get over yourself, Michaelson.” Alex wraps his arms around me as he nudges me toward the dance floor. “This is fun and you know it.”
For the second time that night I consider how much I’d really like this boy to kiss me.
It’s a pretty great night, and by the time it’s over, I can hardly remember my state of mind when I told my mom what an absolutely awful idea the Sparkle Ball was. We have so much fun, Alex and I, competing against each other at the carnival games and stuffing our faces with funnel cake fries dripping with powdered sugar.
Alex came down on the train and my parents invite him to ride home in the limo with us. So just before the ball ends at eleven o’clock, he walks me to the coat closet to collect my wrap. The attendant has left for the evening, and before we walk inside to find my wrap, Alex’s head whips back and forth across the empty lobby. He licks his lips once and then pulls me hurriedly inside.
We are bathed in near darkness and I find myself following Alex’s lead until my back is pressed against a soft wall of wool, tweed, and something that feels a lot like fur.
Alex’s hands find my hips. My throat dries up at once and my heart takes off like a freight train, knowing the moment is here, knowing I’ll no longer just be thinking about kissing Alex. I’ll actually be kissing Alex.
The irony of it all dawns, and I start running my mouth, nervous. “What is it with you and closets?” I croak.
Alex lowers his lips to my ear and I can hear him smirking in the darkness. “Truth be told, I hate closets.”
His mouth grazes my earlobe, sending an onslaught of chills down my spine. His fingertips dance over my hip bones. “I have a conditioned fear of closets, actually.” Alex raises his head, finding the other side of my neck with his lips. He plants the smallest of kisses there and I hear my breath vibrating in the air between us. “One time, this girl completely crushed me inside a closet.”
He brushes his forehead back and forth across mine, and we are sharing the same breath now, and I know within a matter of seconds, Alex will kiss me.
Only I don’t want him to because it’s time for me to make a move. It’s time for me to finally make a move.
My hands find his jaw in the darkness. “This girl has regretted that moment a million times over,” I whisper. “This girl is really sorry.”
Then I bring his face all the way to mine. I kiss Alex.
It is not the intense, all-consuming kiss from last summer. It is a soft spark rather than a raging fire, all gentle lips, traces of powdered sugar, and soft hands. It’s perfection.
Then Alex rests his forehead on my shoulder. “The thing that broke my heart about your speech,” he begins, “was that part where you said how hard it is to say ‘I love you’ knowing that you’ll never hear it back. . . .”
He brushes the hair back from my face, continuing to whisper to me. His hands are trembling. “You should know . . . you should know . . .”
It is one more thing I don’t want to make him do first.
“Just wait a minute,” I whisper.
I think how he was brave enough to confront me in the parking lot, how honest he was, how he shared with me all the things he saw in me last summer.
I lace my fingers back through his and hold his hands against my heart. “I noticed you, too, you know. Last summer. I saw you, too. I remember the very first second I laid eyes on you, how your smile was pure sunshine and how you’d share it with anyone.” I let go of his hands and trace his lips with my fingers, feeling them part softly at my touch.
“I noticed how kind your heart was. And I knew at once how rare, and special, and good you were.” My hand slips down to his chest, inside his lapel, and I actually feel his heart pounding in response to my words.
Tears fill my throat, and they are a mixture of happy and sad, regret and hope. “I remember falling in love with my best friend.” I pull his head closer to mine. I whisper into his ear. “I’ve never stopped. I loved you right away and I’ve never stopped.”
His response is an exhalation of relief and joy. “I love you, too, Jordyn. Thank you for finally letting me say it out loud.”
We find each other again in the darkness.
Our second kiss is the one I remember, the one I’ve longed for for over a year. It is starched cotton crushed against taffeta, my hands running over the planes of his strong back as I claim his body with no fear of the consequences. It is heartbeat matching heartbeat, as they both take off, ignited by the fire that sparks between us. We fumble in our attempts to get close enough, determined to close the distance that never should have existed in the first place.
My life might never be perfect, but I’m really glad it’s mine. I happen to really like my life now, too much to care about what anyone else has to say about it. I like it enough to fight for it.
Holding Alex’s hand, I pull him out of the dark room, ready to take on the world. Together.
Acknowledgments
Jean Feiwel and Holly West, I will never be able to fully convey my gratitude. I understand there is great happiness in making “the call,” and I can only tell you, it increases exponentially at the receiving end. Thank you for giving me this opportunity when the Swoon imprint was still young, and for your faith and support along the way. Zoey Peresman, I’m extremely grateful for your enthusiasm and contributions to this project. Allison Verost, thank you—as promised. A good margarita is never forgotten. To the rest of the Swoon team, thank you for your warmth and excitement about my story, for whipping it into shape and making it look pretty. I’m honored to be associated with such an innovative, energetic, and creative team.
Capturing emotions in words is a passion of mine, and I am so thankful for this opportunity to have a voice. I want to acknowledge all the students I’ve met who struggle to understand the world of words around them and convey their basic needs, let alone more complex thoughts and feelings. You are brave, you are amazing. I am humbled by the strength of your spirits. It is my hope that in some small way, I have shared my voice with you and adequately captured some of your challenges and victories.
I’ve made several writing buddies along the way, and I can count on one hand those who have become true partners. Anna H., Jackie C., and Krysti H., thank you for your willingness to read anything I ever sent you, sometimes for the hundredth time. Thank you for keeping the faith, for saying over and over again “and you will get published someday,” and for being the reason for me to believe this assertion when I had no other reason to. You have a special place in my heart, right next to khakis and caribou and peppermint mochas.
Theresa H., Jen D., and Sally W., thank you for sharing your talents, opinions, time, and support. Thank you for never once making this feel like a competition, for always being so quick in responding, and for being awesome in general. Your friendship is swoonworthy and then some. Sandy H., Jenny E., Katie V., Temple W., and Kim K.—thank you all for being so uniquely cool and collectively supportive. I’m thrilled to be a part of this group.
CC, thank you for being my go-to girl every single day. Your support and friendship is invaluable.
Finally, thank you to my family: my nan, who always took pride in my artistic endeavors and told me I was “clever.” Thank you to my parents and brother, who shared the attitude that everything I did was sort of amazing, naturally. This may not have always been the case, but their belief instilled a deep-rooted confidence (and stubbornness) in my ability to accomplish anything I wanted to achieve. Thank you to my Hamill/Feldman family members, for supporting me and this story in so many ways. Thank you, James, for handling my aspirations with such ca
re, respect, and seriousness. For every way you supported me, every step of the way. Thank you to my kiddos, for inspiring new levels of love on a daily basis and helping me understand and write the parent perspective in this story. With a little princess in a shimmering blue gown routinely belting out “have faith in your dreams and someday, your rainbow will come smiling through,” how could I ever stop working toward mine? For all of this and more, my deepest appreciation—I love you all.
A Coffee Date
with author Karole Cozzo and her editor, Holly West
“About the Author”
Holly West (HW): What was the very first romance novel you ever read?
Karole Cozzo (KC): I was thinking about this and what stands out in my head in terms of teen romance is the Ocean City series by Katherine Applegate. I just remember thinking they were so hot and scandalous when I was a teenager, particularly the second book, Love Shack. My friends and I were all reading them and they were the epitome of hot summer romance novels at that age.
HW: This is one of my favorite questions: If you were a superhero, what would your superpower be?
KC: I gave this one some thought and right now if I had a superpower it would be to expand time. So for every hour of normal time, I would be able to stretch it out so that it was about three hours of time in my world. So I could actually get all the things done that I want to get done in a given day.
HW: That is a fabulous superpower. If you were stranded on a desert island, who or what would you want for company?
KC: I was laughing about this with my husband, because when we were on our honeymoon, he actually opened a coconut for me using nothing but a seashell, and this was a really impressive feat he’s never forgotten. So I guess if I were stranded on a desert island, somebody having that skill would be good to have around. Otherwise, I might just take my best friend because we both really need a vacation.
“The Swoon Reads Experience”