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Once our cheeks hurt from smiling so much, it was time to go. I didn’t bother throwing on a jacket, every inch of my skin warm from being in such close contact to Zak. My parents walked us to the door, and they watched us hurry to his car. Zak even opened the door for me, like a gentleman.
I waved to my parents as we got going, and soon enough we were on the road, heading toward the high school. We got there in good time, considering the roads were a little snowy, and Zak parked us amongst the crowd of cars already there. A line had formed right outside the front door to the school, everyone huddling together, getting snowed on, wanting inside. The line was moving, but not quickly.
“We could wait in the car, if you want,” Zak offered, an easy, dimpled smile on his face. Oh, don’t even get me started on those dimples. Those dimples could save lives.
“Sure,” I whispered, still feeling a little queasy.
I fiddled with my hands on my lap, which must’ve made Zak remember something, because he said, “Oh, yeah, I got you something,” and reached into the back seat. His shoulder brushed up against mine when he turned around, and I fought to control my breathing. He picked something up and brought it with him, a small plastic container with a flower corsage whose main color matched my dress.
Oh, so that’s why he was asking about my dress the other day. Not just so his tux could match, but also for this. What might’ve been a normal thing for a date to do made me swoon.
Zak fumbled trying to get it out, and he couldn’t open the plastic packaging. After a while, he laughed and said, “Normally, I’m not this clumsy, I swear.” His fingers were still prying at the container, trying to get it open.
I smiled at him and said, “I think it’s cute.”
He stopped fumbling, those pretty hazel eyes of his lifting to my face, where they stayed. Because he stared at me so intently, I had to look down as I wordlessly reached for the corsage container and tried to open it myself. The thing popped open easily, just like that.
“Looks like I’m not the cool one anymore,” he said, carefully plucking the corsage out of the container and lifting my left wrist with his other hand. He slipped it on me, his fingertips warm on my skin, leaving a trail of fire everywhere they went.
My voice came out quiet when I whispered, “I think you’re cool.”
Zak still leaned toward me, his hands still encompassing my wrist. It was almost like he didn’t want to pull away from me, and if I was honest, I didn’t want him to, either. I wanted… it was hard to explain what I wanted, so I was just going to do it.
I leaned into him, pressing my mouth against his in a quick kiss. Maybe it was dumb to go right in, but Zak made me feel so content, so happy, so safe. I couldn’t say that I’d felt that way in a long time.
Or ever.
My first kiss.
I pulled back, about to apologize, but Zak’s hands left my wrist, one of them lifting to my face. He pulled me back into him, and this time, the kiss was longer than a single chaste peck. This kiss was a kiss for the ages, a kiss from the fairytales, when the prince and princess finally found each other, a wordless promise to always fight for the other, no matter what.
My second kiss was much better than my first, and they only got better after that. Let’s just say by the time we finished, there wasn’t a line anymore.
We met Amelia and her date inside, and we danced the night away, having fun. I did my best, of course, not to think about how everything in my life had been backwards, how I’d lost certain parts of me before I’d even had my first kiss.
Zak asked me to be his girlfriend at the end of the dance, and I’d said yes. Little did I know at the time, you could only ride the wave so long. Eventually, you were destined to crash, one way or another, and that’s exactly what we did.
It took me a long time to mutter, “Something happened. I don’t really want to talk about it.” I hoped Brett would leave it alone, but I could practically feel the bubble of curiosity radiating from him, and I knew I wouldn’t be so lucky.
“Something bad? Come on, Charlie. You know all my secrets. Tell me some of yours.” When I didn’t say a word, Brett went on, “I need to know if Zak’s a possible suspect here.”
“I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” I shot him an irritated look, but Brett was unimpressed. Of course he was. He was a freaking serial killer, so a peeved glance from me wouldn’t deter him from anything.
“Am I sensing some emotional damage, hmm?”
“Shut up.”
“Yeah, that’s it. Emotional damage. What’d he do, huh? Cheat on you? Sleep with you then dump you? I hear that’s a common one—” Brett went on and on, sounding so flippant and uncaring about it all—not that that should surprise me one bit.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I stated once again, hoping he’d get the hint and drop it. I didn’t think he would; given what he was, social etiquette was probably something he lacked, but thankfully, he decided to ask about something else.
“Tell me about your family, then.”
So, I did. I gave him the run-down on the Mulanie family. I described my mom and dad, what they did, what kind of people they were, and then I told him a little about my older sister, how she’d followed our mom’s footsteps into becoming a nurse. She was currently in a long-term relationship with her high school sweetheart—because hers hadn’t crashed and burned like mine. She was lucky.
“What about jobs?” Brett asked.
“I don’t work during the school year. In the summer, I work at a local bookshop.”
