Chapter 3 #2
“I’m sure you’ll get the opportunity to be brave someday. You’ve got plenty of time.”
I nod in agreement. “How old are you?”
“Fourteen.”
I scoff. She’s taller and younger. What an embarrassing day this has turned out to be. “Seems like you’ve gotten a good head start.”
She gets to her feet as she looks out at the water, brushing the sand off her hands. “Well, that’s because I’m a national treasure, so…”
I laugh. Even though I can tell she’s being self-deprecating, I want to shout, You really are though! I may be young, but I’ve certainly never met anyone like her. I doubt I ever will.
Her cheeks flush as she says, “Really?”
That’s when I realize I said that last thought out loud. Before I can pray for a sinkhole to open beneath me and swallow me whole, she says, “You’re sweet,” and leans down to press her lips against mine.
I can’t move. I can’t think. This gorgeous girl not only saved my life but is now kissing me.
Lip-on-lip kissing. The real deal. The kind you see in the movies.
She tastes like lemonade and cherry Chapstick.
I feel my heart thumping wildly, and my dick is like a steel rod in my shorts.
I can’t believe this is happening. My hands flex at my sides, and I wonder what I’m supposed to do with them.
Should I put them on her back? Or her waist?
Maybe her butt? It’s a nice butt, and I’d very much like to know how it feels, but would she punch me after?
Likely. And it’s not worth it if it means she’ll stop kissing me.
I want this moment to last forever. I feel her hands land on my shoulders, and just as I reach out to touch her, to bring her closer, she pulls away.
A whimper escapes me at the loss of contact, and I can feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. “Wow,” is all I can say, because aside from that word, my head is empty, or so filled with the soft feel of her lips that there’s no room for anything else.
She giggles as she pushes a lock of hair behind her ear. “Yeah. Wow.”
“Was that, um…” I stammer, “I mean, have you––”
“Kissed anyone before?” She finishes with a shy expression that looks out of place on her face. “No. You’re my first.”
“Lindsay!” I hear a soft, high-pitched voice call out from the road. A tiny girl with long black hair stands in the clearing with a Beanie Baby in one hand as she waves the other at us.
My savior turns toward the voice and shouts, “Coming!”
Lindsay. Her name is Lindsay. Beautiful. It suits her.
“I’ve gotta go. My dad is taking us to get ice cream.”
“That your sister over there?” I ask.
She nods. “It was nice to meet you, um…” she trails off, waiting for me to offer my name.
“Nic.”
“Nic,” she repeats with a warm smile.
She doesn’t leave, and it gives me the confidence to ask, “Can I see you tomorrow?”
“Lindsayyyy!” her sister shouts, sounding impatient.
“Yeah. Meet me here at noon?”
“Noon. I’ll be here.” There’s nothing that could keep me from this spot of beach tomorrow at noon. Kenny could kill me, and I’d drag my corpse here.
“Okay,” she says, shooting me another dazzling smile, giving me another chance to lose myself in her eyes. “Bye, Nic.”
I wave as she jogs to meet her sister. “Bye, Lindsay.” My eyes remain locked on her form even through the trees until she and her sister are completely gone from sight.
I spend the rest of the day replaying the kiss in my head. The memory keeps me up most of the night as I absently run my fingers along my lips. When I get up the following morning, my body aches and my head is groggy, but none of that matters, because I get to see Lindsay again.
At ten of, I go to our spot on the beach and wait. I’ve got a beach towel in hand and a pocket full of Airheads to share with her. Noon comes and goes, but I wait.
I wait.
And I wait.
I wait until the little hand on my watch passes the three before I grab my towel off the sand and head back to our campsite.
My mind races at the possible reasons for Lindsay’s absence, but I try to keep the self-doubt at bay.
It’s hard because she’s so pretty, and I’m…
me, shorter and weaker, and if I’m being straight with myself, dumber than her too.
My grades are below average, and I often have trouble focusing.
There’s no way Lindsay’s grades are worse than mine.
I can just tell. So what do I have to offer her?
On the other hand, the memory of her smile after we kissed is burned into my brain. She didn’t hate it. That much was clear, so the reason she didn’t show up likely has little to do with me.
I don’t see Lindsay again during our stay. Even as Mamaw pulls our minivan out of the campground lot four days later, my eyes search for her.
Lindsay.
I should’ve asked for her address so I could write to her, or even a last name. Something.
What I do have of her is so little, but has such a tight grip on me that I know I’ll never be the same: her name, the feel of her lips, and the way she put herself in danger just to keep me from getting my ass beat on a humid, cloudy day on a rocky beach.