Page 2 of The Second Kiss
He looks at the floor and slides his foot in the dust. I’ve never seen him like this.
He looks up and pushes a curl off my forehead. “I did that now because I'm not sure when I'll get the chance to do it again.”
two
Five Years Later
September 2003
When the bell rings after fourth period it’s like a signal that it’s time for things to change. I shut my notebook and gather up my books. Then I pull my locket out of my shirt, close my eyes, and press it to my lips.
For luck.
Taryn will be waiting in our usual place by the window with her sack lunch—the same sandwich, yogurt, and apple she’s been eating since grade school. Not that there's anything wrong with an apple, yogurt, and a sandwich—or that there’s anything wrong with Taryn, or the table by the window. Just like there was nothing wrong with the plain jeans and t-shirt that I used to wear to school. Or even nothing wrong with being a slightly overweight, crazy-brown haired, easily overlooked senior in high school.
But things change.
I figured out how to tame my wild hair. I got contacts and realized my brown-gold eyes were my best feature. I started running. That’s how I ended up on the same trail as Brad.
Brad Wilson. Star of the football team. Even I wasn’t oblivious enough not to know who he was. “It isn’t safe for a girl to run alone,” he said, and “I’m conditioning for football. We should run together. Text me when you want to go again.”
He gave me his number, but I didn’t dare text him. Still, he was there waiting the next time I went running. He called me out for coming alone again. Then he asked me if he could give me a ride to the trail the next time so he could make sure I was safe.
After almost two weeks of running together, six times total, he kissed me. Slow and romantic, sweet and salty, at the far end of the trail, by the lake.
My second kiss.
And I fell for him.
Hard.
When school started, I was prepared—all the right clothes from shopping with my friend Jasmine. New make-up, hairstyle, and the body all those miles had helped me build. I expected Brad to ignore me.
He didn’t.
At first it was just a smile when he saw me in the hall, a “hi” between classes. A “how’s the running going?” Then it was walking with me to my next class when we were going in the same direction. Today he was waiting for me after chemistry. He slipped his arm around my waist, walked me to art and then leaned over and kissed me goodbye, in front of my class—in front of everyone. In front of Lexie Hale, whose green eyes had flashed in immediate shock. I saw her because I was too surprised to close my eyes when Brad leaned in.
“See you at lunch, Jess.” He walked away like this was the norm, like we kissed in the hall all the time.
I was too stunned to speak. Too stunned to take the last three steps into the classroom. Too stunned to answer Jaz’s “Brad Wilson? When did that happen?” But not quite stunned enough to miss the look of pure hatred Lexie gave me when she pushed past me on her way to class.
When I reach the commons, I’m not sure where I should go. On one side is my usual spot. Taryn is already there, curled up with a novel, munching on her apple. On the other side is Brad’s crew, some of the football team, the student council, a couple of cheerleaders...Lexie.
Brad isn’t here.
I stand like an idiot, looking around for him, not sure where to go. He comes up behind me, wraps his arms around my waist and whispers in my ear. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Hansen let class out late.” Then, in front of the entire commons, the entire school, and one very shocked Taryn, Brad turns me around andkisses me again. He takes my hand, and we walk together, past both tables, and out the door to his truck.
“Party tonight, after the game,” Brad whispers in my ear when he pulls into the school parking lot at the end of lunch.
I’m not sure if that’s his way of asking me out. I’m still new to this. I’m still a little surprised every time he kisses me, still a little unsure of why he always has his hand on my back or his fingers hooked in my belt loop when we walk together between classes. Somehow, I’ve become one of those girls Taryn and I used to make fun of, the kind of girl that can’t go to class without checking in with some guy’s lips.
“Wear your brown shirt,” he says. “The one that brings out the gold in your eyes.”
“To a football game.” My laugh sounds nervous, even to me. I touch the locket around my neck without thinking. “It’s silk. I’ll freeze. Besides, aren't we supposed to wear red? School spirite and all of that?”
He reaches behind the seat and pulls out his letterman jacket. “Wear this. At least until after the game, when I’m there to keep you warm.” He drapes the jacket over my shoulders and then slides his fingers down my neck.
He stops at the locket. “What’s this?”
