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When he finally talks, it sounds like gravel caught in his throat. “Did he do something? Try something?”
“What?” I finally look up, and oh.
There is a blaze in Knox’s eyes that has the six-foot-high bonfire outside look like nothing but kindling. Have I ever, beyond maybe a single argument he had with my mom, seen him like this?
“You can tell me.” He nods like he’s trying to console himself. Control himself. “I know Ledger’s a close friend, but that means nothing if he’s made you uncomfortable.”
“Oh my gosh, no.” I shake my head feverishly. “No, no, no. We barely even spoke, and if anything, I made him uncomfortable.”
“Okay.” Knox turns his gaze from me and puts his attention fully on backing us out of this crazy yard and out onto the main road. “You know you can always talk to me, right?”
“Of course,” I answer, but then again, can I?
Can I honestly look my best friend in the eyes and say everything I want from a guy? Say I don’t want to graduate high school having never even so much as held hands with someone in a romantic way, or heck, even flirted with someone? I haven’t kissed anyone, much less anything more. What would he say? Would he laugh? No. Knox isn’t cruel—at most he would shake his head and say something along the lines of, You don’t have to worry about that stuff, Felicity, it will all work out. I can hear his smooth voice in my head, and still I hesitate.
Knox hasn’t dated seriously, not that I know of. Or maybe he hasn’t ever told me. Maybe he went out with a bunch of girls in his class before he graduated and just kept it all a secret from the rest of us. Then again, I doubt a girl would be all right with Knox being with me every other day if they were anything serious.
Regardless, he’s at the very, very least kissed a girl and ran a couple bases—there is no doubt about that.
I certainly couldn’t mention wanting a date to show off to Mom; he would probably flip this truck at the thought alone of me texting her. But the dating thing… Maybe he would be able to help find someone else to coach me?
“You’re so quiet. I have ‘Ms. Jackson’ on full blast and you’re not even lip-syncing; it’s kind of freaking me out. Did I do something or—”
“Have you ever dated?”
“Dated?” He says the word like he doesn’t know if it’s sweet or sour yet.
“Mm-hmm.” I fidget with the hem of my—Lottie’s—sweater dress. “Like taking a girl out and flirting and hand holding and—”
“I’m familiar with the term, Felicity. I’m just curious why you’re asking me all of a sudden.”
“It’s not sudden,” I defend.
“Yes, it is. You’ve never asked me that before, or even brought it up.”
He’s right. I know he’s right. But something in me feels too tight, too full tonight—like if I don’t say this now, I never will.
“I want to start dating.” I spit the words out like a pepper too spicy to keep in anymore.
Knox starts coughing as if he can taste it too.
“Wha—You do?”
I nod and keep my eyes stuck on the view outside, street lights and fall-decorated front porches passing by. A lit-up jack-o’-lantern makes eye contact with me and I swear I see it wink. Keep going, I push myself. It’s just Knox here, the same Knox you’ve always told everything to.
“I want to see what it’s like. I want to go on a date. I want a first kiss and to hold hands. I want to dress nice and to hear that I look pretty.” I take a breath between pauses. “I want to know what it feels like to be wanted by someone.”
He seems to be choking on air in the driver’s seat by the sound of his sharp inhale, so I take a quick look his way.
Knox reassures me with a head nod once, then twice, but keeps his eyes on the road. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I get that.”
“You do?”
“I think that’s something everyone wants, right?”
“Even you?” As far as I know, Knox never cared for other girls hitting on him. The stares he gets when we go to Riley’s always go ignored, and when I know for certain someone is flirting with him, he always brushes it off and pretends like it never happened.
“I’m not a robot, Felicity.”
