Kiss Me Already

by Sally Henson

  Two more amazing posters of my future are in my room. One, on the same wall of the door, shows scuba divers in the waters of Australia. Above my pillow is the other, a large photo of the grassy beach in Destin, Florida. Tobi had that one printed for me. They’re beautiful; their colors pop against my plain white walls. It’s a reminder for me. One day I’ll get out of this gossipy town and make the coast my home, working in marine science.

  I roll over and look out the window my bed’s pushed up against. At night, if the creatures of the night are singing, I keep my window open to help lull me to sleep. Memories pop like popcorn from the dinner at Tobi’s last night. I think about kissing Lane in the loft at sunset, and then Lincoln showing up at the house would pop in my mind, and then kissing Lane again; it took me a while to wind down. All this from one night. Lane sure knows how to kiss me.

  I look at his senior picture on my dresser. He stuffed it in my stocking at Christmas last year without my knowing. When I asked him about it, he said Santa Claus must have left it for me. My toes curl as I think about it, about him, the way he was last night.

  My eyes skim the dresser to the other photos. I have them arranged by height, nice and neat. There’s one of me and Lane that Tobi took and one her mom took of the whole gang. Mrs. Bridlow had us squish together after we’d been out riding ATVs. We look like a mess.

  Tobi snapped the one of me and Lane before we headed to the movies one night. I let out a smiley sigh. Those dimples of Lane’s are irresistible. I swing my legs over the bed and stretch one more time before making my bed and trekking to the bathroom.

  Lane’s sweet kisses play on repeat in my head as I get ready for church. I know, I know, I can’t stop thinking about it. I stare at the clothes hanging in my closet, checking my blue section for something to wear. The blue dress Lane likes grabs my eyes and makes me giggle. We’ve come a long way in just a few weeks from occasional, embarrassing pecks on the lips to last night’s all-consuming, deep good-night kiss. My lips form a dreamy, satisfied smile and I look in my closet again.

  A whiff of bacon and eggs makes my stomach growl. I settle for a white T-shirt and a pair of jeans, and grab my white canvas sneakers from the closet floor. The sluggishness when I woke has been replaced with excited energy. We didn’t decide what to do today. Should we go with the plan to tell my parents or wait?

  I greet my dad in the kitchen and make toast for a bacon-and-egg sandwich, tapping my toes against the floor. It would be nice if time would speed up this morning. I need to talk to Lane about this dilemma.

  I smash my bread on top of the sunny yolk of the egg. It makes me think of Lane’s sunset science yesterday at Tobi’s barn loft. I loved being snuggled close to him, watching the ball of fire kiss the horizon.

  * * *

  These distracting thoughts have me on autopilot, because the next thing I know I’m sitting at the table staring at my plate. I catch Dad glancing at me over his book. His brows shoot up, which causes my brows to shoot up. I realize I have a huge grin on my face and drop my eyes to my plate, take a bite of my sandwich, and hope he doesn’t suspect anything.

  Dad occasionally looks up from his book at me. I can feel his stare boring into the side of my head, and—every time—I catch myself either tapping on the floor with my foot or on the table with my fingers. It must be annoying him.

  He clears his throat. The sound triggers the fear from Lincoln’s throat clearing last night. “You’re smiling.” He looks over the top of his book at me with one brow raised.

  “Am I?” I draw my brows together and try to frown.

  He tilts his head. “Yes. And your foot’s going to tap a hole on the floor.” Yep, my incessant foot tapping is getting on his nerves.

  “Sorry.” I get up and put my glass in the sink and throw away my trash. I'm full, anyway.

  On the way to church, I ask if I can go home with Lane. Yay, no issues there.

  We pull up in the parking lot, and Lane’s waiting by the tree where Dad usually parks. All my fidgeting calms when I see him. He looks at me with his brows raised, asking if everything is good. I show thumbs up and his posture relaxes. He opens Mom's door, greeting her and my dad. We try to hang back to get caught up on what’s happened since he went home last night, but Mom wants him to escort her into church.

  Now that Lane's a college boy, he goes to a different Sunday school class. It stinks, but we sit together during service and try not to get caught holding pinkies under our bulletins. I know. It's so dumb and a good way to get caught, but he’s leaving today.

  “God will judge the secrets of men through Christ Jesus. Romans 2:16 doesn’t say secrets are bad or good, only that they will be judged.” Our preacher starts off with a bang. His eyes meet mine as he continues to lay out this conspiracy against me and I quickly look down.

  That’s what he’s talking about today? Lane and I look at each other and retract our hands. My insides twist and turn into a tangled mess. At the last amen, I nearly run out of the building.

  Lane catches up with me outside, with his sisters tagging along. The fresh air helps clear my head until trouble goes out of his way to find us. We need to talk about today. I’m on the fence about telling our parents, but I can’t say anything in front of his sisters.

  “Cary, watch where you’re going.” Paul Frak, teen seduction king, purposefully thumps his shoulder into Lane, as if Lane walked into him.

  The muscles of Lane’s jaw flex. He folds his arms across his chest, squaring up to Paul.

  “Some sermon, huh Regan?” One corner of his mouth pulls up in a smirk as he moves his gaze back and forth between Lane and me.

  “Yeah.” What else am I supposed to say? If he’s insinuating Lane and I are keeping secrets, well, we are. But the guy has his own secrets to contend with. His dishonest game of literally charming the pants off girls and pretending to be a good little Christian boy, is not something his parents or God would find acceptable.

  “I hear there’s a lot of hot girls at Eastern.” Paul wriggles his eyebrows. “Maybe you’ll find you a sorority cutie to spend your free time with.”

  My eyes narrow and I turn around to look for Lane’s parents. I’m ready to get out of here.

  “Aren’t the boys hot too?” Leah asks.

  I turn back around, wide-eyed, at her question.

  Paul snuffs at Leah and turns his attention to me. “See you tomorrow, Regan.” He winks at me and then walks away.

  Leah folds her arms in front of her chest and watches him leave. “Chauvinist pig.”

  I hold in my chuckle. These girls are wiser than I was at their age.

  “I can’t stand that guy.” Lane spits the words under his breath. He’s chewing on the inside of his cheek, glaring at Paul strutting away from us.

  As soon as Lane’s parents come outside, we head to the car. Nearly every Sunday, for as long as I can remember, my family and Lane’s family have shared a meal. Our dads are best friends. Our moms are good friends too. Linc, Lane, and I played together practically my whole life. Lane and I have spent so much time together and got along so well, we were naturally best friends. Now we’re a little more than that.

  Leah, Lilly, and I help Lane pack up his truck. They were so cute, giving him advice about studying and setting his room up.

  We get in his truck to leave for my house. He’s wearing a silly school-boy grin and I’m sure mine’s just as silly. When his parents drive away, he surprises me with a kiss.

  A slow, warm, closed-mouth kiss. It makes my pulse rise. I’m still getting used to this kissing stuff. And I thoroughly like it.

  He leans back to see me. “This bites. I’ve spent almost every day with you the last two weeks.” He wraps his arms around me. We both hold on tight.

  I swallow the lump that’s forming in my throat and whisper, “I know.”

  He rubs my back. “Last night was ...”

  “Confusing.” I answer for the both of us. Confusing may be an understatement. “That sermon was �
�”

  “Confusing.” Lane repeats my answer.

  I pull away and lean back against the seat. “I’m glad you feel the same way. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Linc doesn’t understand how close we are.” He rests against the back of the seat too, reaching for my hand. “He’s been gone for two years, Regan, he doesn’t know what our life is like or what your dad’s going to think about us together.”

  “Don’t you think it’s more than a coincidence that he mentioned some of the same issues I’d already brought up? Things will change, it won’t be the same.” I didn’t want to tell Dad to begin with, but I know I probably shouldn’t try to hide it either.

  Lane swivels his head toward me. “Things are changing. Already. I’m leaving for school after dinner. It’s not going to be the same, anyway.”

  Nooooo. I fix my eyes on the roof of the cab, searching for a distraction from the pain wrapped around my heart, the truth. The white lining looks new except that spot in the middle. Ugh. This distraction isn’t working. I prayed about this last night, during Sunday school and church today, and I still don’t know what to do.

  “If we tell our parents, we can just be together today. We don’t have to pretend.”

  “Lane. I want to, but what if Dad doesn’t allow it and then we won’t get to see each other, like at all. No weekends.” Knowing this helps me get past the guilt from the sermon today.

  He growls. “I don’t like this. After that confusing sermon about good and bad secrets and insecurities, it feels like we should just face it. Especially after Frak’s move today. He’s going to go after you.”

  “Paul’s not going after me. Dad would never allow it, thanks to you exposing him to my parents after he tried the first time. And I would never go out with him. Ever.” I reach my fingers into his shaggy hair while he twists the end of my braid between his fingers. He’s played with my hair for so many years now it seems natural.

  “I’m not going to be here to keep those jerks away from you. Or from Tobi and Haylee. I’m not sure if Cameron will handle it by himself.”

  I lean back to check his expression. “What are you talking about?”

  He veers his eyes from me. “I just mean …” He sighs. “I don’t know.” His body straightens in his seat, and he turns the key to start the truck.

  I’m not sure if that’s what he’s really talking about or not, but I’m not going to push it. It’s not important.

  “Come over here.” He raises his arm for me to slide next to him. He’ll probably drive super slow to extend our time together.

  I snuggle closer to him. The passenger side is full of stuff he’s taking to college with him, so I need to sit in the middle anyway, but I don’t have to sit this close. “Let’s just feel things out and if it’s not right, if it feels like Dad’s going to be against it, we’ll wait.”

  He growls. “How are you going to know?”

  A brilliant idea pops in my head. “I’ll think of some way to bring it up without anyone thinking I’m talking about us.”

  He twists his mouth to the side. “We’ll see.”

  “We’ll see.” I mock him to lighten the mood. All this doom and gloom isn’t how I want to spend our last day together.

  Lane snorts and then pulls me close, rubbing my shoulder.

  There’s something about him that’s so tranquil. He drives slowly enough that my braided hair stays tucked in place and his stuff doesn’t fly out the window. A new song plays on the radio.

  He nudges me. “Turn it up.”

  I lean forward to turn the dial and then snuggle back under his arm.

  “This song makes me think of you.” He sings along with the radio—singing to me.

  I can't help but smile. When it's over, I tell him how great he sounds.

  “Ah, shucks. Thank you, ma'am.” He uses an exaggerated drawl, tipping his imaginary cowboy hat. So adorkable.

  “Why do you think Lincoln showed up like that? It didn’t even cross my mind last night, but was he just walking around the house or did he come to see me, or was it an accident that he saw me? I mean, it’s weird, right? It’s not like he came home to see Mom and Dad if he doesn’t want us to tell anyone.” I wish he’d never brought up Johanna. That girl can ruin a moment like no one else, even when she’s nowhere to be found.

  Lane chuckles. “Yeah, it’s weird. Mom said someone called looking for me last night. It could’ve been him.”

  I toss my hand up in the air. “Why can’t we tell anyone he was here?”

  Lane shrugs. “I don’t know. I wish you had your answers.”

  My lips press into a tight line. I lean my head against him. “Yeah. Me too. There are so many questions. Already today, it seems as if seeing him last night was a dream.”

  “More like a nightmare. I heard him clear his throat and I just knew it was your dad. My mind was racing. I didn’t know what I was going to say.”

  I giggle. “I know. That would have been so bad. I’d be grounded for sure and we probably wouldn’t even get to see each other for weeks, maybe months. Plus, I’m sure he would have lectured me a few times about keeping—” I stop short of saying secrets. Today’s sermon is coming back to haunt me. “We’re going to have to be more careful.”

  The tension coils around Lane, but it’s not cold. He wants to tell Dad regardless of what Linc said last night. Linc’s points were spot-on, though. “I used to lean my head against you like this before when we were only friends.”

  “See, I told you being more is natural with us. It’s how we’re supposed to be. Together. Like this.” His voice is as smooth and creamy as a chocolate truffle melting in my mouth.

  My chest fills with trills of excitement. I don’t know why it does that and I can’t control it. My body’s all jittery inside.

  Lane stops at the T on the path. The dust from the road floats past the truck, whisked away once it hits the open, paved road. “I’ll come home every weekend. I know we’re used to hanging out all the time, but we can do this.”

  I nod my head against him. We’re near my house already. Once we get there, we’re going to have to keep our distance. Ugh. I sit up straight in the seat and Lane moves his arm from around me to a less conspicuous sign of affection, holding my hand.

  5

  Regan

  He turns off the engine, sporting his broad and mischievous grin. “Well …” He uses that low voice that draws me closer.

  I'm only inches from his crystalline eyes that have me locked in, and I don’t want to look away. Electricity sparks in the air, tempting me to lean into him. We shouldn't be this close, lingering, in his truck. Dad will get nosey if we sit here too long. Lane’s sisters will get nosey. Everyone will get nosey. I don’t want anyone to catch us being overly friendly. But, I want to hook my fingers in his shaggy, sandy hair again.

  I manage to speak. “We better go before they see us too close to each other.”

  He sits there, gazing at me, unmoving.

  “Please, Lane.” My lips brush his as I finish the two-word sentence. He leans into me, keeping our lips together. We don't have the time or the privacy to let our lips slow dance.

  He squeezes the door handle to step out as he extracts himself from me and the truck. “To be continued …” He flashes his dimples through the open door.

  I giggle and slide out behind him. Here goes everything.

  The smell of fried chicken wafts past us when Lane opens the door to the house. He moans about how he loves fried chicken. Dad gives thanks for our food, friendship, and the opportunity for Lane to go to college.

  Since Lane’s taking off today, he gets the honor of going through the food line first. He and I always sit by each other. The conversation moves from one topic to the next, like every other Sunday dinner. What my dad doesn’t think of in conversation, Lane’s dad does. Dad can get kind of loud without realizing it. If Mom didn’t consider Jane and Dan, Lane’s parents, such close friends, she’d be embarrassed. In fact, my
mom doesn’t have any close friends that I’m aware of except Mrs. Cary.

  Lane adds to the conversation now and then. I sit in my usual spot beside Lane, picking at my food. So much is swirling in my head right now. Does Linc really know what Dad’s reaction would be to Lane and me being a thing? I’d already suggested Dad would only allow us to have supervised dates since we’ve been such close friends, but maybe he’d be okay with it.

  Lane’s words from dinner last night and all the days leading up to this moment are mixed in, too. I’m still surprised by it all … by how I feel like bursting into a million pieces when we’re kissing. I wipe my mouth with my napkin and realize I’m smiling, maybe even drooling. Dad’s already caught me smiling a few times today already. It's not as if I don't smile—I do—it's just, I usually don't have a smile plastered on my face all day long. Ugh, how am I going to bring this up?

  I watch Lane march back to his seat beside me with his second plate of food already. Where does he put all this food? Mrs. Cary catches my eye roll and winks at me. Her lips curve into a grin. Lane looks a lot like his mom. Her hair is lighter than his, though, and she wears it down to her shoulders. He must get that winking thing from her, too. I’ve not noticed it until recently. A crooked grin lifts the corner of my mouth and I shake my head.

  Mom smiles in a wistful sort of way. Her eyes show the sadness she’s trying to hide. “Growing boys need a lot of food.” She’s probably thinking about Lincoln.

  I keep my smile, but my heart swirls south, bringing an ache in my chest. Stupid Lincoln. He should’ve come to see Mom. I wish I could tell her I saw him last night and he’s doing well, but I can’t. Instead, I keep my cover going. “Growing boys better watch their growing bellies.” I snort out a forced laugh and elbow Lane in the side for show. It’s been torture sitting next to him today. The sides of our legs touch under the table, but that’s all we can afford … no hand holding.