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Ethan stiffens. “Next question.”
“Okay. What about… why you kissed me that day?”
He looks at me and his chocolate eyes glow. “Which day?”
“The first time,” I say, almost shyly. We’ve never talked about this before, but I’ve been curious. “On the last day of Junior year.”
“Uhm, pretty sure you kissed me.”
“Did not. That was all you.”
Ethan frowns for a long moment. “Was it?” Then, before I can spiral into wondering if my memory’s failing me, he shoots me a wink. “I just… felt like it.”
I wait for him to say something more, maybe elaborate on the ever-growing mystery that is the thought process of a sixteen-year-old boy. But he doesn’t.
I’m not expecting some grandiose declaration of love à la Romeo and Juliet. I don’t even want him to hang off a ferris wheel like in The Notebook (seriously, that was far too dangerous a stunt in my books). But something would be nice, some hint as to what eventually won him over…
“Whatcha thinking about?” Ethan asks.
I smile. Why would I ruin such a nice moment by bringing up things that don’t matter? “Nothing much, just that I should get home soon.” I slowly rise to a stand. “Alicia and Carmen should have settled their fight by now, and Mom might need some help around the house.”
“Okay,” Ethan stands next to me, brushes off his shorts. “I’ll pick you up later?”
“Actually, I’ll walk over. Knowing my parents, they’ll want to chat with you for an hour and I’m assuming you have an entire evening carefully planned out...”
I wait, hoping this might illicit some hint about what to expect for tonight. All Ethan gives me is a nod.
I rise on my tiptoes to brush my lips against his. “7pm, right?”
“7pm. Get ready to be impressed with my newfound stick shift driving skills.”
I pause. “I hope we’re not going far.”
“Don’t worry, it’s a short drive.” Ethan laughs.
“Good.” I wink at him, then turn to leave the yard. “See you later.”
“Later, Teeny.”
18
Ethan
You know that vibrating sort of excited that kids get when they’re on their way to an amusement park and are about to fill up on a thousand grams of sugar and adrenaline?
Yeah, that’s Val right now. Multiplied by a hundred.
“Don’t hurt yourself.” I chuckle as she bounces around the passenger seat.
Her hands grasp her bare thighs, knuckles almost white. She turns to me and her expression makes me smirk. “You should’ve thought of that before telling me where we were going!”
“You’re right. I should’ve anticipated you practically falling out of the truck every time we stop.”
“You should have,” Val agrees. “You know how excited I get about Tumbling Waters.”
The name makes it sound a whole lot more dreamy and romantic than it is. Which is essentially one huge, flat swatch of farmland (cows included) dotted with towering water slides built in the 80s.
Val and I used to spend hours there, racing down the slides with our goggles and arm floaties. We’d splash around in the artificially colored, chlorine-scented pool (now horrifying to consider), and eat so many popsicles our teeth would turn red and our stomachs would ache (the thought of them still makes me queasy).
