Scene 2 #3
He shakes his head. “Nothing. It just looks cute on you.”
The comment makes my heart start racing and my hands feel numb.
“I don’t want to go home yet,” he continues.
He puts his hand softly on my kneecap. It’s warm and dry, and he leaves it there.
It feels very different than this morning.
More definitive, because I don’t have any more questions.
I know now. Rob and I are going to kiss before this night is over.
“Okay.”
“Should we go to the Cliffs?”
His hand is still on my knee, and I nod in agreement.
We start driving back past Grandma’s Coffeehouse and the school and up toward the water.
The Cliffs are this area of San Bellaro above the ocean.
Pretty self-explanatory except for the fact that there’s a cemetery there.
Which completely creeps Olivia and Charlie out.
It’s always been somewhere I’ve gone with Rob.
Our place. It’s quiet and peaceful, and all you can hear, besides the occasional passing car, is the sound of the waves crashing.
I’ve spent my whole life living by the water, and while I don’t surf and, yeah, my skin is whiter than a sheet of paper, there is something comforting about that sound.
It’s so eternal. Like Rob, one of those things I can just count on.
I keep my window down, and when I wet my lips, I can taste the salt air. Rob and I are quiet on the way over, but it’s a good quiet now, a quiet we’re used to. Watching movies, studying at my kitchen table. That kind of quiet.
It takes us about ten minutes to get there, and the entire time we’re driving with the windows down, music playing and the salt air settling onto our skin, he has his hand on my knee. It’s just resting there, like it fits. Like we’re these two puzzle pieces that have finally been put together.
We pull into the parking lot, and Rob cuts the engine. It’s quiet—so quiet I can actually hear the wind whistling through the grass outside. Rob takes his hand gently away and then gets out. This time I wait for him to come around, and when he does, he opens my door easily, on the first try.
I hug the Stanford sweatshirt closer around me.
“Come on,” he says, taking my hand.
We walk through the grass to this place at the end of the cemetery where there are two big rocks that are so close to the edge of the cliffs, it feels like you’re literally hanging over the water.
I’ve always been afraid of heights. I was that kid who refused to go on the monkey bars and hated gymnastics.
I still don’t even like to fly. Being high up freaks me out.
All of that space. All of that possibility for complete and total catastrophe. One wrong move, and everything changes.
“Nothing’s going to happen to you,” Rob says.
It’s the same thing he’s been saying for years.
Every time I get close to the rocks, I just sort of freeze up.
I can’t help it. It is a long way down into that water.
If I knew anything about math or geography, I’d probably put it around way too many feet.
“I know. Just give me a minute.”
“Okay.” He stands on one of the rocks, arms spread out like he’s flying. “Check it out, Rosie. No hands.”
“Please stop.” My heart is racing and my blood is pounding so hard, I can hear it in my ears. It feels like it’s going to thump straight out of my body.
Then Rob trips and his arms flail out, and he’s literally inches from the edge, his torso so far forward I swear he’s going to topple over. In one tiny, terrified moment I start screaming.
Rob rights himself effortlessly. “Relax, Rosie. No problem.”
He tries to take my hand, but I yank it away. “It’s not funny.” I know I sound petulant, like a little kid, but I can’t help it. “I hate when you do that.”
“Okay, okay,” he says, softening. He brings one hand to my waist and puts the other underneath my chin, tilting my head up toward him. “I’m sorry,” he says, and I can tell by the look in his eyes that he means it.
I grumble, “Okay,” and let him lead me over to the rock just behind the one he was standing on, where we settle down next to each other.
He points to the sky. The stars are brilliant, so specific that it feels like if I tried, I could count them. And from our spot on the rock it looks like they are all around us. Even underneath us. Like we’re in a universe composed entirely of stars.
“What’s that?” I ask, pointing up at a circular constellation. Rob has moved just a tiny bit behind me so my back is resting half on his chest and half on his shoulder.
“I’m not sure. I was never too good at astronomy.”
“Me neither.”
He runs his hand down my arm and then secures it around me. My heart starts to speed up again, like a runner in the last mile of a marathon. Just when I didn’t think it could go anymore, it takes off again.
“This is funny, huh?” he says. He clears his throat. “I just mean, you and I.”
“Funny?”
“Well, no, not funny. Just different.”
“Well, yeah. I mean, usually we’re not sitting like this.” I gesture to his arm that’s still resting on my side.
“No, usually we’re not.” He doesn’t remove his hand. Instead, he presses me closer.
Something is bubbling up and out of me, and even though I want to keep it inside, rest my head on Rob’s chest and just enjoy how nice it feels to be near him, I know I have to say it. I turn around to look at him.
“I’m worried,” I say.
“About what?” He takes his other hand and brushes some hair out of my face the way he did at prom last year.
“You’re my best friend,” I whisper. “What if this doesn’t work out?”
“You’re already planning our demise?”
“Not demise.” I exhale. “I’m just worried, is all.”
He takes my hand in his and presses his thumb into my palm. His hands feel strong and soft. “I know,” he says. And then, with his thumb still in my palm, he adds, “But I haven’t even kissed you yet.”
I drop my eyes down to the rock, but I know without looking at him that he’s staring at me, and when he releases my hand, puts both of his on the sides of my face, and lifts my head up, I see that I’m right.
He leans in slowly. So slowly it feels like we’re in slow motion. And then his lips are on mine. They are so soft and warm, and it’s not until he pulls back gently that I realize how much I’ve wanted him to kiss me. How it’s really the only thing I’ve wanted.
“We’ll figure it out, Rosie,” he says, stroking my cheek. “I promise.” And then he’s kissing me again, and it feels so good to be close to him, his hands on my back, his lips on mine, that I can’t believe there was a time before we were doing this at all.