Page 38 of The Second Kiss
“Sorry.” He stifles a yawn and I realize how tired he looks.
"You said you worked last night; shouldn't you be sleeping?"
He shrugs, "I'm okay. I felt like I owed it to you to get your car running."
"Why would you owe me anything?"
He gestures to my arm. “I feel like this is my fault. The tree was a dumb idea. I shouldn’t have made you go up there.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” The guilty look in his eyes is starting to get to me. I have to look away. “It was my own clumsiness.”
“You’re not clumsy.” He rubs his thumb across my cheek. "Maybe a little muddy though."
"Muddy?" My hand flies to my face and I look down at my clothes. My shirt is streaked with dirt and there's a new hole in my jeans. The sloppy bun I started the day with has gotten sloppier. It strikes me how crazy it is that we're both standing on the side of the road and that Jacob is here, that he saw me running toward home with a casted wrist, wearing jeans. That I fell. That I have mud on my clothes and my face, and I look horrible. Again. That he worked all night and then drove to fix my car because he feels bad that I got hurt.
I start laughing, hard.
"What?" He's looking at me like I've lost it. Maybe I have. I can’t stop laughing.
"You're really good at this," I reply between gasps.
"Good at what?" The puzzled expression on his face makes me laugh harder. I'm laughing so hard I can barely breathe, but I know the tears are right behind. If I let them flow I won't be able to stop them.
I choke out, "Catching me when I'm at my worst."
He grins, almost in relief. "That's what friends do isn't it? Catch you when you're at your worst? Or if they're better than me, maybe they don't let you fall in the first place."
I stop laughing and stare at him for a second, but I don't think he's teasing me. That wasn't what I meant, but I like the way he turned it around–implying that he's here to catch me in my worst moments. It's kind of what I counted on him for when we were kids. I almost wish I could tell him everything–about school, about Brad, about how long I've thought about him coming back, about how him being back is reminding me why I had such a crush on him in the first place.
But I can’t.
"Let's get you home. You can rest and I can try to make sure you don't have to walk home again." Jacob opens the door for me and I climb into his car. I watch him walk around to the driver's side, and I think for the first time today that maybe it isn't the worst day of my life.
I keep thinking that, right up until I see my mom waiting for me on the front porch.
eighteen
Muddied
Istop at the base of the steps as Mom’s eyes travel over me–taking in the mud-stained clothes, the tangled mess of hair, and the rip in my jeans. Her gaze moves to Jacob and rests there with a heavy, accusing look.
Maybe he doesn’t see it, because he greets her with his usual smile and, “Hi, Mrs. Roberts.”
Instead of answering, she turns to me. “What happened to you and why aren't you at school?”
I step back, bumping into Jacob. His chest against my back feels warm and supportive, but I immediately step away. “I didn’t feel well, so I came home.”
“You didn't feel good, so you called–” she gestures toward Jacob, like she’s too mad to remember his name, “to come get you? Why wouldn’t you call me?” She’s about to boil over. I’m preparing myself, suddenly wishing I were anywhere else. More than that, I wish Jacob were anywhere else.
I work to come up with something that will diffuse the bomb that’s about to go off. I'm stuck with the truth. “I didn’t call Jacob. I walked home. He saw me on the side of the road and gave me a ride. I fell again, and he helped me.”
“You fell? Again?” The words are for me, but the disbelief in her gaze is for Jacob.
The words keep tumbling out. “I’m sorry, Mom. It was stupid for me to try to walk home, I–”
“But why are you here?” Mom says to Jacob.
If Jacob notices the change in Mom’s attitude toward him, he doesn’t show it. “The parts I ordered came in. I was coming to fix Jess’ car. I saw her on the road, like she said. I stopped to give her a ride.”
