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She sighs deeply. “My parents…they died. Today. They died today.” She says the words as if she’s both in pain and disbelief.
My chest tightens for her.
I take another swig and try to answer her logically and like my own heart isn’t hurting for her. “But you’ve got to be my age, right? Seventeen? Eighteen? You can handle shit on your own.”
“Eighteen,” she says. “I’m eighteen.”
Several seconds of silence pass between us.
“Thank you for not apologizing. Everyone who knows that happened keeps calling and apologizing to me. I hate it.”
I laugh. “Why the fuck would I apologize? It’s not like I killed them.”
To my surprise, she laughs with me, and the sound is the best thing I’ve heard tonight, if not ever.
“You know, that’s the greatest thing anyone has said to me so far.” The shadow moves, allowing me to see more of her face. Her eyes are wild, her pupils huge like she’s high, but I know high and this is something else, more like she’s high on crazy. And as I look over her pale, pristine skin and dark rose lips, I decide that crazy doesn’t suit her because she’s more than that. She’s breathtakingly beautiful, but in a really different kind of way.
“Tell me, girl who hath no parents, what did you want to do with your life before you decided to climb up here and contemplate ending it?” I ask.
She looks me over, with confusion, a small smile plays at her lips. “I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re blunt. It’s…refreshing? If that’s the right word.”
“I don’t know if it would be the wrong word, but it’s sure as shit the first time someone has said I was refreshing.”
She bites her bottom lip and thinks. “I’ve always wanted to be one of those guardians. You know, the ones who go to court on behalf of kids who either can’t or are too afraid to speak for themselves. To me, I think if I could make just one kid not feel alone in this world….it’s stupid, huh?”
“No,” I say, finally able to speak. My heart’s in my fucking throat. I needed someone like that, and there’s so many kids out there who need someone like that now. “I think it might just be the best fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”
She blushes. “There’s also something else I’ve always wanted to do, but I never have before. Too scared I guess.”
“What?” I ask, hanging on her every word, intrigued by what she will say next.
However, I’m not at all prepared for what’s about to happen.
She shuffles over to me, pressing her thigh against my torn jeans. She takes the bottle from my hands and takes a swig, coughing and handing it back. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and clears her throat.
I take a swig and there’s no burn no cough. I think this vodka’s broken.
“I’ve…I’ve always wanted to…” She blows out a frustrated breath and musses her hair. “Okay, I mean I’ve…Ugh! I’ll just say it. I’ve never been kissed before!” she blurts.
How is that even possible? I’ll kiss you.
“You will?” she asks, her face lighting up.
I’m surprised by her answer since I didn’t realize I’d spoken my thought out loud.
“Yeah, I mean, sure,” I say with a shrug, trying to appear cool and casual.
Cool and casual with a swollen face and no fucking shoes.
“Only if you don’t jump,” I add, suddenly needing to know this girl is going to live.
She bites her lip and nods. “Same goes for you.”
“Deal.”
We shake on it. I like the feeling of her small hand in mine. The energy that courses between us shoots up my arm, and she gasps, feeling it, too. Her lips turn upward into a smile, and I swear to God, for the first time in my life, my heart actually skips a beat.
“So, how do we do this?” she asks, sheepishly. “On the count of ten?”
She’s cute. Eighteen and acting like a kid on the schoolyard about to play spin the bottle. It’s making my heart beat faster and faster.
“Ten?” I ask. “Why ten?”
She turns her head so her cheek is on her shoulder and she’s staring up at me sideways. “I may not be ready by three,” she explains.
“Ten, it is,” I say, feeling my pulse pounding my chest, a welcome change from feeling it hammering behind my swollen eye.
She leans in closer, and I do the same. We’re only inches apart. I can smell her perfume, something floral mixed with fresh laundry. She counts slowly. Agonizingly slow. “One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight—”
“Nine,” I interrupt, and press my lips to hers. I snake my free hand around the back of her neck, pulling her closer, while keeping us pressed as close as possible to the bridge. Her peach lips are softer than I imagined. Her tongue tastes of mint and sweet tea. I’m consumed with thoughts of her. Her lips. Her skin. Her warmth.
