PS. Of course, I said the kiss didn’t mean anything. I’m just a stupid boy after all.
♪ Boys Chase Girls by Ingrid Michaelson
I hoped she would laugh when she read it.
WE SPENT the rest of the summer emailing back and forth. We didn’t really talk about anything major, just chatted like friends were supposed to. She still mailed me a letter every week. And I treasured them.
The day before school started, there was an attachment to her email.
SINCE YOU SAID I left this out, I spent my spare time creating this for you. I’m glad it meant something to you after all. It certainly meant something to me. It meant EVERYTHING. I’m scanning it to you, so you can see it now. I’ll give you the original when we see each other next because I’m afraid it will get damaged in the mail.
♪ This Magic Moment by Jay and the Americans
When I opened the file, I found a sketch. It was the most detailed drawing she’d ever given me. The love pulsed off the drawing. I could almost touch it. She’d captured the love that flowed between us that day. She’d drawn us with our lips pressed together in representation of the first kiss in my life that ever mattered. Our first kiss.
CHAPTER 15
IZZY
♪ From Where You Are by Lifehouse
T he time had finally arrived. As I was driving towards my future, I immersed myself in my past as I hit ‘play’ on the CD player in my car.
Static crackled for a moment, before Dawson’s voice filled the metal cocoon I traveled in. “Hey, flutterby. Hopefully, you’re listening to this on your birthday. If not, blame the international postal system. I swear I mailed this early. Anyway, I hate that I’m not with you right now. I really miss your face. I hope you like the songs.” His voice sounded as good as it always did. A little road-worn, a little raspy, a lot seductive, and a lot like home.
Strumming started. After a few bars, the other instruments joined in, and before long, Dawson was singing a song I’d loved since he gave it to me for Christmas three years ago. It was about a first kiss shared between best friends. And how it sparked an ember that went unfanned for a few years. And how after years of care, the ember raged into an inferno. It was about the power of a first kiss. Our first kiss.
A green glass bottle at a sixth-grade party was responsible for our first kiss. But our first real kiss, the one that ignited a passion in me I’d only read about when I sneaked my mom’s steamy romance novels out of her nightstand, that one came a few years later. My skin heated and tingles covered my skin as I remembered that first tasting of tongues when we were fourteen…
RIIIIIING.
And with that final bell, freshman year was officially over, and Dawson would be next door when I got home from school. I was so excited to see him. It felt like forever since he was here for spring break. This year, he was spending a month with his dad over the summer. A whole month of seeing him every day. My heart could just burst.
When my ride dropped me off in front of my house, I nearly bypassed home and went straight next door.
“Flutterby!” shouted from the direction of my treehouse halted my steps. I turned, and there hanging out the window of my sanctuary was Dawson. I took off at a run and scrambled up the wooden slats. As soon as I was standing inside, I leaped into his arms. He caught me and lifted me from the wooden platform. I threw my arms around his neck and wrapped my legs around his waist. His hands gripped beneath my thighs, keeping me eye level with him.
“You’re here. You’re really here. God, I missed your face.” I loosened my grip around his neck, so I could trace his high cheekbones, underneath his whiskey colored eyes, around his soft pink lips. His eyes searched mine as I did.
“I missed your face too. And your smile. And your laugh. And your hugs. And everything I haven’t even experienced with you yet but will.” Without any more words, he pressed his lips to mine.
My heart pounded against my ribcage. This was going to be it. I had dreamed of my first real, real kiss. I was so nervous. I had no idea what to do. I didn’t want to suck at it. All those frantic thoughts flew right out of my head the moment his tongue traced the seam of my lips. Instinctively, I parted them, and his tongue dove in. It stroked the inside of my mouth in a delicious rhythm. Time stood still while we learned this new part of each other. When we finally broke apart, I was breathless. I didn’t quite have the hang of breathing while kissing. Maybe I’d get better with practice.
Dawson leaned his forehead against mine. “Wow,” he panted.
“Wow’s right. That was so much more than I ever imagined.” A giggle slipped past my lips.
“Me too.” He smiled widely at me.
“You mean you’ve never…” Why did I say that? I wished I could yank those words back. I didn’t want to know about the girls in his life and what he did with them back in Ohio.
“Nope. Not like that.” I breathed a sigh of relief at his admission.
I frowned in confusion. “But you went on dates and stuff.”
He sank down into my trusty, pink bean bag with me still wrapped around him. Since my weight was now on his lap, he ran his fingers along my jaw and peered deeply into my eyes. “Yeah, but they didn’t mean anything. It was just a way to pass the time. Besides, they weren’t you.”
“What are you talking about?” His kiss must have short circuited my brain, because I couldn’t make sense of the words coming out of his mouth.
“My first kiss… like that… it had to be you.” He shrugged his shoulders like he’d just reminded me the sky was blue.
“Not that I’m complaining, but why did it have to be me?” God, why couldn’t I just shut up? This boy always brought out the need for full disclosure and honesty in me. Even when it made me look like an idiot.
“Because every first that matters in my life has to be you.” He was so matter of fact about it.
He settled more comfortably into the pillow of Styrofoam.
“So, I didn’t suck at it?” I asked self-consciously.
“Hell no,” he chuckled.
“It was hard to figure out the whole breathing thing. I don’t know how they kiss for so long in the movies,” I admitted.
“Practice. You’ll get better with practice. We’ll get better with practice.” A confident smirk tipped up his lips and revealed that dimple I loved so much.
I touched my finger to the little indention. “I like the sound of that.”
“We have a whole month to practice,” he said as he waggled his eyebrows at me.
“Can we start now?” I asked eagerly.
He tangled his fingers in my hair and meshed his mouth with mine.
I SIGHED and brushed a tear from the corner of my eye. It was true what they said. Practice did make perfect. Dawson and I practiced kissing every day for the whole month he was back. And we perfected the art of it. No one had ever kissed me like him. I shook my head to rid my mind of the memories making my heart race and ache at the same time. That summer produced a kissing addiction and a logo I created for Dawson’s band. A logo they still used to this day—a reversed silhouette of a guitar on a multi-colored paint splatter.
♪ It’s in His Kiss by Cher
When the last notes of the song faded, his voice returned, speaking to me. My heart clenched tightly. “I have a confession. This next song is one I wrote when we were thirteen. I never shared it with anyone until a few weeks ago. The night I came home from taking Casey to the stupid eighth grade formal, I wrote this while looking at your picture. Do you remember?”
I did. That was back before Dawson and I had explored anything outside the bounds of normal friendship. Before our first real kiss. Why would he remind me of that terrible time when he was with someone else? Especially after I’d just relived our first real kiss?
Casey. Oh, how I hated that girl…
WITH A SIGH, I collapsed on my bed and hugged Mr. Fluffy. School was abnormally brutal today. Too many pop quizzes. I was certain the teachers had a meeting in
the teachers’ lounge before school and plotted against us unsuspecting students while they enjoyed their coffee. I grabbed my laptop and logged in to my email account. My day immediately improved when I saw a message from Dawson waiting for me.
IZ,
So, there’s a dance at my school, like a winter formal or something. I’m sure there’s one at yours too. Is it lame that I kind of want to go?
D
IMMEDIATELY, I responded.
YES, there’s one here too. I don’t think it’s lame if you want to go. The music might be good. I was thinking about going to the one here. A bunch of my friends are going to all go dress shopping together. I haven’t decided for sure if I want to go or not, but I might go dress shopping just in case. No one has asked me to go yet. But you never know.
HE MUST HAVE BEEN SITTING at his computer, because his reply came back pretty quickly.
COOL. I think you’d have fun dress shopping with your friends. And even if no one asks you, you can still go and have fun. Don’t know if I will go stag with a bunch of my buddies or if I’ll ask someone. There’s this girl in my English class that I thought about asking. But I don’t want to sound like a dork. You’re a girl, what should I say?
I LOGGED out and shut my computer. He likes a girl in his English class enough to go to a dance with her. The thought crushed something inside of me. I knew it was impractical, but I kind of thought he might ask me to come go to the dance with him. Stupid, fanciful notions.
Thankfully, it was time for dance class. With any luck, I’d dance myself to exhaustion and collapse into sleep when I got back.
A few days later, I finally responded. It wasn’t in me to ignore him.
HEY DAWSON,
Sorry, I didn’t answer sooner. Just got time to check my messages. It’s probably too late for my advice. The girl probably already has a date. But if I was the girl, I’d just want you to say something nice like:
I think you’re pretty and was wondering if you’d go to winter formal with me.
Anyway, good luck. Are you going to buy a suit?
Izzy
EVERY DAY I checked my inbox several times a day. There was no answer each time. He must have gotten mad when I didn’t answer right away. Or maybe he was too busy with the girl from English class to message me.
Finally, there was an answer.
YOU WEREN’T TOO LATE. I asked her, and she said YES. She’s gonna let me know the color of her dress after she buys it. I might need some advice about the corsage.
No, I’m not going to get a suit. There’s no way I’d wear a monkey suit to some dance. I’m going to wear black jeans and a nice shirt. Maybe a tie.
On a different note, I met a guy at my school who plays bass. We’re going to jam sometime soon. I’ll let you know how it goes. Maybe I can put together a band.
HIS EMAIL DIDN’T sound mad. But how much could I really tell from typed words? And he’d actually asked her out. I knew it was inevitable that he’d find a girlfriend in Ohio one day. All my friends here were pairing up left and right. I was sure his were doing the same thing. I had to figure out a way to let go of my hope for something more than friendship with him. We were separated by, like, 600 miles and four states. Us was impractical.
Like a good friend, I wrapped myself in appropriate enthusiasm and wrote him back.
Wow, a band would be awesome. I can’t wait to hear what you sound like with other guys backing you up. I still haven’t heard you play electric guitar yet. Are you writing lyrics yet? I listen to your guitar playing every night, and I imagine words with the songs. You have a great voice.
And by the way, I know suits aren’t cool, but I think you’d look handsome in one. And would look even better in a tux.
HIS ANSWER CAME BACK before I had to go down for dinner.
MAYBE WE CAN SKYPE SOON, and I’ll play electric guitar for you. The guy came over and brought his bass. We sound awesome together. I will see if I can hook up the camera and computer in the garage and do a jam session for you.
Yeah, suit or tux – not happening. This dance isn’t THAT special. LOL.
So, Casey says her dress is purple. What should I do about the corsage? Pin on or wrist?
THE GIRL he liked was named Casey. Sounded like a nice name for a normal girl. A girl next door, even. A girl like I used to be for him. Only more because he actually asked her out on a date.
Sucking in a deep breath, I planted my fingers on the keyboard and tapped out:
I’d love to Skype with you. My new computer has a camera, but I haven’t ever used it. Awesome about the bass player. What’s his name?
I’m telling my date to get me a wrist corsage. I don’t want him to accidently stab me with a pin in the boob or something.
I WATCHED for his answer to pop up. Nothing came before bedtime. Nothing was there when I got up the next morning either. Several days passed before his reply came.
SO, you decided to go to the dance too? That’s awesome. You’ll have to email me a picture of you in your dress. Who’s taking you?
I’ll go with wrist corsage. Boob stabbage is not something I want to do.
What color’s your dress?
And the bass player’s name is Brooks.
I LAUGHED as I read boob stabbage.
YEAH, this guy in my Algebra class asked, so I decided to go. My dress is pink. I’ll email you a picture IF you send me a picture of you dressed up.
WITHIN MINUTES, a new message was delivered.
SHOULD’VE KNOWN your dress would be pink. LOL. You trying to get a blackmail photo of me all dressed up? Either way, it’s a deal.
TIME PASSED QUICKLY, and the day of the dance arrived for both of us. Mom carried me to get my hair and makeup done. Then I came back home and put on my hot pink dress. I loved my dress. It had sparkly straps instead of sleeves. The gemstones trailed down the straps and across the top of the sweetheart neckline. The bodice of the dress was fitted, but it flared out at the waist into a flowing skirt with layers that stopped midway to my knees. Mom found me silver high heels to wear. I’d been practicing walking and dancing in them for a couple of weeks now. I twirled in front of my mirror.
I loved how the dress flowed as I walked. It was flirty and fun. All that was missing was him. I tried not to think of him getting dressed at that very moment to take another girl to his dance. It was a losing battle.
My inner thoughts were interrupted by the doorbell. I glanced at the clock and frowned. It was too early to be Tim. Mom yelled for me to come down.
When I got down the stairs, my mom and dad clicked away with their cameras. Behind my parents was Dawson’s dad.
“Hi, Mr. Anderson. What are you doing here?”
“Wow. You look beautiful. Dawson wanted me to bring you these. And I told you to call me Michael. We’re family.” He brought a handful of pink roses from behind his back. The bouquet was tied with a pink and red ribbon. Mine and his favorite colors.
I took them in trembling hands and brought them to my face, inhaling deeply. They smelled so good. The cameras were still clicking away.
“He said to tell you not to forget to send him a picture,” Mr. Anderson reminded me.
“I’ll go do that right now. Thanks for bringing these.”
I grabbed the camera from my mom and dashed upstairs. With my thumb on the clickwheel, I scrolled through the photos Mom took and found a pretty one of me smiling down at the flowers. I loaded it to my computer and attached it to an email.
THANK you so much for the roses. I was so surprised. They’re beautiful. My first ever roses. I can’t believe you thought of them. You’re the best. Now send me your picture.
I WAITED for a few minutes but got no response. So, I headed back down. While I was talking with Mr. Anderson, the doorbell rang again. It was my date, wearing a suit, and his parents.
Tim seemed surprised by the roses I still clutched in my hands. “Those are pretty. Did your parents get them for you?”
“No. Dawson h
ad his dad bring them to me,” I explained, still staring at the flowers.
“Oh.” Of course, he knew who Dawson was. They’d been in the same second grade class.
“Let me go put those in water for you and set them in your room,” Mom offered.
Tim held up the box with my wrist corsage of hot pink carnations. I held out my arm, and he slipped it on while the parents snapped away. We posed for lots of shots for both sets of parents and Mr. Anderson. Finally, Tim’s parents loaded us in the car to drive us to school. Mom would pick us up at the end to take us home.
EVEN NOW, I could picture myself dancing in that hot pink dress. My first official school dance was pretty fun. But the entire time I was there, I could only see in my mind Dawson in his nice black jeans and dress shirt with the top two buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up. Slow dancing with someone who wasn’t me.
As the song ended and Dawson began talking to me again, my phone rang, startling me out of the bubble of nostalgia I’d been floating in.
“Hello,” I said as I swiped the screen to answer.
“Hey, babe. You on the road?” Beckett asked.
“Yeah,” I answered absentmindedly as Dawson’s words droned in the background.
“Is someone riding with you?” Beckett asked.
“What? No. I’m alone. Why would you think someone was with me?” I knew the rambling sentences made me sound guilty. But I couldn’t help myself.
“I just thought I heard a voice in the background.”
“Oh, it’s just the radio,” I explained, turning the volume down.
“OK. The voice seemed familiar, so I didn’t know if you got one of your friends to make the trip with you.”
“Nope. Just me. All by my lonesome,” my tone was a tad too high-pitched, but hopefully he didn’t notice.
“Well, I just wanted to check in and tell you to drive safely. Text me when you get there.” He didn’t sound suspicious.
And what reason did he have to be suspicious? I wasn’t lying. No one was in the car with me. And technically, the voice he’d overheard had come through my radio.
Notes of the Heart: Book 2 of the Lyrical Odyssey Rock Star Series Page 18