Page 49 of Switch!
Sarah nods as if satisfied. Then she presses her back against my chest. I’m too scared to move.
“It’s also okay to interpret signals and respond to them,” she says. “I’ll let you know if I don’t like what you’re doing. You should do the same. I mean it. Guys can feel overwhelmed and uncomfortable too. We have to communicate, no matter what.”
“Okay.” I wrap my arms around her. “I hate that I hurt you.”
“I’m fine,” Sarah says, patting my bicep. “Everyone makes mistakes.”
The vibe between us is good again, but the day has lost some of its joy. I’m feeling bummed when we pull up to her apartment. If only my superpower was turning back the clock instead. I’d do that for her. After I walk Sarah to the door, I let her initialize the kiss.
“Listen,” she says, her eyes searching mine. “My roommate is going to be out of town this weekend. If you want, you can come over. We’ll take it slow and see what happens. No promises, no expectations. Okay?”
“Yes!” I pick her up and spin her around. When I set her down again, I try to sound very mature when I say, “I’m looking forward to spending time with you.”
“I bet you are,” Sarah says teasingly. Then she pecks me on the lips. “So am I.”
— — —
I’m in a good mood when returning home. I’m still kicking myself for acting so foolishly, but the shameful lows I feel are nothing compared to the soaring highs that accompany thoughts of Sarah. I have the best girlfriend ever. Smart and beautiful, forgiving and funny. This has to be love. Too bad there isn’t a home test to be sure, although I don’t see what else it could be.
“Caleb, honey!”
I hear Mrs. McCain say my name as I’m passing by the kitchen, so I stop and join her.
“I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.” She’s standing at the counter, a bag of flour next to a large mixing bowl. “I wanted to surprise you.”
“What are you making?” I ask as she cracks an egg over a pile of sugar.
“Magic squares.”
My mouth waters, even though I’ve never heard of them. A visual image comes to mind: cookie bars stuffed full of walnuts, chocolate chips, and shredded of coconut. “Yum!”
Mrs. McCain smiles. “Do you remember making these together?”
“No.”
“You must! We had so much fun. Here.” She makes room for me at the counter so we can stand side by side. “This was always your favorite part.” She cracks another egg over the bowl. Then she unwraps a stick of butter and adds that too. “Now help me mix it.”
I’m about to reach for a spoon when I recall the tactile sensation of dough squishing between my fingers. “With my hands?” I say in shock. “Gross!”
Her cheeks go rosy. “I knew you’d remember. You used to love this when you were little.” She gets the same misty-eyed look that my real mother always did when talking about my childhood.
“Did you at least make me wash my hands first?”
“Only sometimes,” she says with a titter. “Oh how I wish I could turn back the clock!”
I know the feeling. I can at least make her wish come true. After washing my hands in the sink, I return to the bowl, wiggling my fingers over it dramatically. “My hands were a lot smaller then,” I say. “I’m like an industrial mixer now. You might want to stand back.”
She actually does take a step back, which is adorable, and says, “Don’t make a mess!”
“Caleb.”
We both turn at the sound of Major McCain’s voice.
He sees what we’re doing and makes a face. “When did you get home?” Then he shakes his head, as if it’s not important. “We still have a few hours of daylight. Come out back with me and we’ll make progress on the deck.”
“Ten minutes,” I say, turning to face the bowl again.
“Now. I want this done by the end of the week.”
