Chapter 19 Daisy #3
“True,” he says slowly, and I feel this flash of relief—maybe he’s going to take the bait and tell me what our kiss actually meant. But instead, he wags his eyebrows and adds, “Right before you started swapping saliva with that Mateo guy.”
I swallow. “So?”
He shrugs. “So, nothing.”
I take a giant sip of the lemonade. “Does it bother you? That I, you know. Kissed Mateo?” I feel embarrassed saying it out
loud, but I already wrote it all in a letter. What do I have to hide now?
He shrugs again. “Should it?”
I stare at him. Owen, who I’ve been friends with for so long. How is he suddenly so slippery to pin down, so difficult to
read? Was he always this way?
“I guess not,” I finally answer.
I start walking, and he walks alongside me. Amiably. Like friends. “Good. Then it doesn’t bother me,” he says, taking the
lemonade back.
“Good,” I reply, though I don’t feel good. I just feel . . . weird, and more confused than ever. “I . . .” I stop walking
again and turn to look at him. “I’ve obviously made the mistake of making a kiss mean too much to me. And I felt really stupid
about it. About him. So I thought . . . We should talk about it. About our, you know.”
“Smooch? Kiss? Hot make-out sesh in Jenna’s upstairs bathroom?” he teases.
I swat at him. “Owen, stop! I’m being serious!” I’m starting to regret trying to bring this up. I should’ve let it go.
“So what did it mean to you?” he asks. He puts this out there so casually, I’m taken aback. Because to be honest, I don’t know the answer. All this time I’ve been trying to guess what it meant to him. What did it mean to me?
“I—I—I don’t know, actually,” I say.
Owen hands me back the lemonade. “I don’t either.”
“Really? Do you think it made things too complicated? Do you regret it?”
He thinks for a second. “No. I definitely don’t.”
“Oh,” I say, relief flooding through me. “Okay, good. I don’t either.”
“You don’t?”
I shake my head. “I mean, if we’d never tried it, we’d never have known what it was like. . . .”
“I guess everything’s worth trying once, right?” he says. Which saps my relief away.
“So it was just a one-time thing?” I ask. “I’m just trying to, like, clear the air and everything.”
“Right. Yeah. Totally. Just a one-time thing. I mean, so far.” Owen squints into the distance. “Should we ride the Ferris
wheel?”
“Are you trying to change the subject?” I tease.
“Why, yes, in fact, maybe I am,” he says, and it’s the first time I detect a slight blush. At least we’re both embarrassed
by the awkwardness this has created.
We get in line for the Ferris wheel, and it isn’t until we’re in the air that I realize this is even more awkward. Here we are, just the two of us, our legs swaying out over the crowds, riding one of the most romantic rides in the world. Another couple is literally kissing in the car ahead of us.
He nods toward them. “Jeez. Seems like everyone’s making out these days.”
I laugh. “Um, yeah. So annoying.”
“So annoying.” He turns to face me. “Should we be annoying, too? I mean, since they’re already doing it.”
Nervous butterflies burst through my stomach and chest. “Really?”
He shrugs. “Only if you want to see if we can out-annoy them.”
“You make everything a competition.”
“You know me so well.” He smiles at me.
“Okay, fine,” I say. “Let’s do it.”
He seems almost giddy now as he swivels to face me. “Here, you hold the lemonade,” he says, handing it to me. Then he pushes
my hair back from my face, and puts one hand on my waist, and pulls me closer to him.
And then we’re doing it. We’re kissing again.
And it’s just as good as the first time. Maybe even better. Once again, we’re both laughing a little, like we can’t believe
this is happening. But it’s also too fun to stop. And his hand on my side is sending electric shivers through my whole body.
And even though our entire kiss conversation felt completely awkward, somehow, this does not. This just feels . . . right.
When the ride finally comes to a stop and we’re forced to get off the Ferris wheel, I feel lighter than air. My legs are a little wobbly. “Let’s go sit down somewhere,” I say, because I honestly don’t know if I can keep standing without falling over.
“Sure.” He lets me lead the way to a grassy area, shaded by a low tree. It’s not completely private, given how crowded the
fair is, but it’s still set somewhat apart from the action.
“Owen,” I say, taking a deep breath. “Here’s the thing. I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”
He looks deflated. “That’s cool, I get it.”
“But on the other hand, I really like kissing you. Like a lot.”
“Yeah?”
“I would like to keep doing it. But it scares me. I don’t want to get carried away. I don’t want to feel stupid again. I don’t
want to get hurt.”
He takes my hand. “I wouldn’t hurt you, Daisy.”
“How do I know that?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know, because I promise?”
“So you want to keep kissing, too?”
He smiles. “Obviously. I really like kissing you. I really, um . . . like you.”
“As in like like? Or . . . like how much you like Milk Duds?”
He’s bright red now. “Not the Milk Duds kind of like. Although they are great. I’ve probably had a crush on you for at least a year. I’m just used to acting very chill and aloof about it.”
“Oh yeah, so chill, so aloof.” I laugh.
“Shut up,” he says, nudging me with his shoulder, and I can’t keep the grin off my face. I can’t believe this is really happening, and that everyone was right, that he does really like me.
“I’m sorry I didn’t pick up on it sooner,” I tell him. “But I could maybe have a crush on you, too.” I squint at him, faux
serious. “If I really tried.”
He laughs. “You’d do that for me?”
“Anything for you, Owen.”
And then I kiss him.