Chapter One #2
“Here it is,” he said, then turned his head to look back
over the crest.
I stopped beside him and didn’t, at first, look where he was
looking.
I was watching him.
It was our first date. He’d taken me up to the mountains.
And if the big backpack and small cooler he was carrying was any indication, we
were going to have a picnic.
At least, I hoped we were going to have a picnic. That hike
was long, and most of it was uphill.
I was a cheerleader. It wasn’t like I wasn’t in shape.
But…dang.
Seriously, altitude was no joke.
Now I was hungry, thrilled we were finally there, even more
thrilled the way back was all downhill, all of this while being thrilled I was
with Darius at the same time hoping the massive effort I’d put into getting
ready that morning hadn’t been in vain.
In one of our five (yes five, in less than that
many days!) phone conversations since he asked me out at Fortnum’s, Darius had
warned me I needed to wear comfortable clothes for our date. He told me we were
going into the mountains, the hike was a little over a mile, and it’d take some
effort.
Although on the face of it that sounded romantic, it was
harder than heck to figure out what to wear during a date like that.
So hard, my sister Lena and best friend Toni had spent two
hours rejecting outfits I tried on until I found the right one.
We’d decided jean shorts and a cute little top that was
orange and had a gold design in it. It was gathered at the high neckline and
held up by a spaghetti strap that ran through the front and back of the
material.
I wore my hair straightened, and I’d twisted it up in a
messy topknot. But I was worried that the wisps of hair around my face that I’d
laid down so carefully had now peeled away and gone curly and made it all look
just plain messy.
Since Darius didn’t stop looking at whatever “here” was, I
turned my head that way.
And caught my breath.
In front of me, a wide basin lay, flanked by mountain peaks
and filled with wildflowers.
“Oh my God,” I whispered reverently.
“Hank found it,” Darius told me.
Hank being Lee Nightingale’s older brother, a guy everyone
knew even if he’d already graduated because he was a) a talented athlete, b)
super sweet and c) gorgeous, so he was also d) very popular.
Hank was also the antithesis of Lee’s bad boy. Perfect
grades. Perfect boyfriend (reportedly). The boy next door. The good guy.
“We hike up here all the time,” Darius went on.
“It’s amazing,” I told him.
He took my hand, and I looked to him.
“C’mon,” he said softly, his eyes on me in a way I suddenly
didn’t care if the wisps around my face got too wispy.
Actually, the way he was gazing at me, I felt the kind of
beautiful you just always knew you were, no matter what your hair looked like
or your outfit or whatever.
You could be in the throes of delirium from a bad flu,
sweaty and nasally, raw-nosed and croaky, having a wracking cough, and Darius
would look at you like that.
No.
Look at me like that.
Oh my.
He guided me to a place among some aspen trees, the wind
sifting through the silver-dollar-sized leaves, making a kind of soft music
that was the perfect soundtrack to this adventure.
There I found, after he shrugged off his backpack and put
down the cooler, I’d been right. He pulled out a blanket and spread it on the
ground then gestured for me to sit.
He sat with me, and out of the cooler came some sodas and
bottles of water, sandwiches, then from the backpack came a big bag of chips
and some homemade cookies.
He’d even remembered to bring napkins.
“Mom made the cookies for us,” he told me as he set them on
the blanket.
Okay, so maybe his mom reminded him to bring napkins.
But when he shared this, I felt something strange. Strange
and beautiful.
Because he said that not like it was simply a fact, or with
any nuance he was embarrassed about his mom making him cookies to take on his
date, but like he was proud of it.
It was then it hit me. One of the reasons I liked him
(outside of him being so cute, and tall, and his lashes so perfect).
He just knew who he was.
I had no idea who I was. I didn’t know anyone our age that
knew who they were.
But Darius did.
He knew the perfect place to take a first date and he loved
his mom and didn’t care who knew it.
Having these thoughts, something was happening. Something
fierce and frightening and wonderful, all at once, and I wasn’t feeling it
because I was out with the cutest, most popular boy in school.
“That’s sweet,” I replied, but my voice was husky with the
thoughts I was thinking and the things I was feeling.
He smiled at me then unwrapped his sandwich.
He took a bite, chewed, swallowed, then looked again to me
while I was chewing my own bite. “I want you to know that it’s only ever been
Lee, Eddie, Hank and me that have come up here.”
In other words, this wasn’t his normal date spot, where he
took girls to impress them with his romantic sensibilities and picnic-packing
capabilities in an effort to get into their pants.
It was a spot for him and his buddies.
And me.
Lord.
There they were, more things I was feeling. Lots more. Oodles
more.
And they were all awesome.
“Oh,” was all I could think to say.
“Yeah,” he replied, that smile still in place, a tease in
his voice. “Oh.”
“It’s beautiful,” I told him.
“I know,” he said, not taking his gaze from me.
I pressed my lips together because he wasn’t talking about
the meadow, and knowing I was correct earlier, that Darius thought I was
beautiful, pushed its way to the top of my feelings, and that feeling felt amazing.
“Eat,” he encouraged, “So we can get into the fun stuff.”
I wasn’t sure what he considered “the fun stuff.”
I just knew, with a sense that was fierce and frightening
and wonderful, whatever it was, I wanted to do it with Darius.
“The fun stuff,” it would turn out, was lying on our
backs and watching the clouds drift by.
You might not think this was fun…as such.
But lying on my back beside Darius, our fingers linked and
resting where he’d pulled them, on his flat belly, our arms pressed together,
both our knees bent (and every once in a while, he’d move his leg and bump it
against mine, which was adorable and electrifying, both at the same time),
talking and watching the clouds drift by was the best time I’d ever had in
my life.
“Do you ever try to see things in the clouds?” I asked.
“Like dragons or elephants?”
“Do you see something like that?”
I lifted my free hand (because, straight up, I wasn’t
letting go of his, no way, no how) and pointed. “Well, that one kinda looks
like a T-Rex.”
“Which one?”
I looped my finger. “That one.”
“I don’t see it.”
I turned my head on the blanket and looked at his profile.
“Maybe squint?”
He squinted. It was adorable too.
I started giggling.
He turned his head to look at me, his lips moving like he
was fighting a smile, before he asked, “Are you messing with me?”
“No,” I lied. “I totally see a dinosaur.”
Something changed in his eyes, and suddenly, he let my hand
go as he turned to his side and got up on a forearm.
For the second time on that mountain, my breath caught, this
time because of the expression on his face.
“You ever been kissed, Malia?” he asked, his voice soft.
I liked the tone of his voice, but…
Uh…
I was so sure!
“You’re not the first date I’ve ever had, Darius Tucker,” I
returned.
I mean, really.
Did he not think I lived a life until he walked down that
row at Fortnum’s to me?
“No, I mean properly kissed,” he replied.
Oh, now I really knew what he meant.
I turned and got up on my forearm too.
“You’re hot and all, but that is not where this is going,” I
told him. Because, gah! This was our first date! Feeling something
crushing my chest in a manner that caused actual physical pain, I suggested,
“Maybe we should head back down the mountain.”
“You’re misunderstanding me,” he said.
“I am?” I asked but didn’t wait for his answer. I ordered,
“So clear things up.”
He shook his head, looked away, then back at me, “I guess
I’m asking if it’s okay if I can kiss you.”
Not expecting that, I stared at him.
“If you’re not ready, then I can wait for when you’re
ready,” he hurried on. “But I’d really like to—”
He didn’t finish because I leaned forward and kissed him.
It was chaste, no tongue.
Then it was not chaste, I was again on my back on the
blanket, Darius’s chest pressed to mine, and there was lots of tongue and even
more happening to my body.
It was a warm day, but I wasn’t warm.
I was hot.
Burning up as the wind whispered through the aspens and
Darius’s tongue played in my mouth.
It felt perfect.
Because it was perfect.
But Darius didn’t even try for second base. He cut off the
kiss by putting his hand to my face, lifting his head away and sweeping his
thumb across my lips.
This gesture was as sweet as him asking for a kiss.
“We should probably stop now,” he whispered.
I was having trouble breathing.
So he was right.
“Do you wanna head back?” he offered. “Or watch the clouds
more?”
I wanted to kiss more, but he didn’t offer that option.
So I took the one I wanted most, in that moment, in all the
world.
“Clouds.”
He grinned.
“Anyway, we haven’t eaten your mom’s cookies yet,” I pointed
out.
“You’re right, we haven’t,” he agreed. “You wanna walk
around, get a different view?”
I didn’t want to leave that spot for the rest of my life.
I shook my head.
He settled back down, filtered his fingers through mine and
put our hands to his belly again.
“Then we’ll stay right here,” he murmured.
That was the first time Darius Tucker gave me what I wanted,
no discussion, no hassle.
It would be far from the last.
Darius took hold of my wrists and pulled my hands
from his behind to between us.
This was a feat, considering he was flat-out on top of me on
the couch in his parents’ rec room (which used to be their garage).
“Baby,” he said after he tore his mouth from mine, sounding