Page 15 of The Two of Us

“Hit me with the dare, baby.”

His overexcitement alarms me.

“Um… I dare you to sing us your favorite lullaby in an old lady voice.”

“Oh, Mara. That’s cute,” he snorts. He then proceeds to sing the most earsplitting rendition of “Rock-A-Bye Baby” in a voice one could only describe as ancient. We all burst into a fit of laughter and I clench my side to ward off the cramp that’s beginning to settle in. Jackson may be unpredictable, but we’re all having fun.

It went on like that for a while. I shocked everybody by licking the wall of the tree house for five seconds and Ambrose brought tears to our eyes when he admitted that the dumbest thing he’d ever believed was that stepping on a crack really would break his mother’s back.

“It made sense at the time!” he yelled defensively.

We laughed and laughed and if the game ended there, I might have gone so far as to say that Truth or Dare was a new favorite for me. But it didn’t end there and I should have known Jackson wouldn’t let us off so easily.

“Ambrose. Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

His smile is wicked. “I dare you to kiss Mara.”

The silence that ensues is enough to make me believe that the world has stopped. That we’re officially frozen in time and the sounds from the outside have joined in the standstill. No birds in the trees. No dogs barking down the street. Nothing besides the sound of my heart clanging against the bones in my chest. I shouldn’t feel embarrassed—it’s not my dare. But I’m terrified. I’m terrified at the idea of Ambrose kissing me and how quickly my mind tells me it’s something I actually want. But more than that, I’m terrified of seeing his disgust at such a ludicrous dare.

Ambrose opens his mouth, then closes it just as quickly. “I don’t think…”

“I knew you’d chicken out, dude. It’s fine. So I dare you to dare me to kiss Mara.” Jackson’s intention suddenly becomes crystal clear. He knew that given any alternative to kissing me, Ambrose would take it. My lunch threatens to climb out of my stomach and I wring my hands in my lap.

I gather the courage to look at Ambrose but his face is unreadable. Of course he doesn’t want to kiss me. But he’s also too kind to let another boy kiss me when it’s clearly something I’d rather avoid. When Ambrose fails to come to a decision, Jackson happily moves things along.

“Mara, are you ready?”

He scoots closer to me and the tree house feels ten times smaller.

It’s just one kiss.

Kids my age kiss all the time. Cat has already kissed two boys in our grade. I swing my eyes in her direction, surprised to find her watching Ambrose with an expression I can’t decipher.

I dig down deep for a kernel of courage. I’m shy, but I have too much pride to let Jackson think he’s won. Determination washes over me and I angle my body toward his. Not wanting to watch the gap between our lips close, I shut my eyes and lean forward.

I wait.

And then I wait some more.

I’m no expert in kissing, but I don’t think it’s supposed to take this long. The sound of shuffling causes my eyes to fly open, stunned to see Ambrose holding Jackson by the collar of his shirt, his face inches from his.

“This game is over now,” he grits out.

Ambrose is seldom angry, which is why we’re immobilized. I expect Jackson to put up a fight, but he simply nods his head and plasters on a phony expression of indifference.

“No worries,” he says, smiling at me. “It’s getting dark out anyway. I should head home.”

We scramble to our knees and in an awkward formation, make our way down from Old Maple. Jackson is right, the sun has already set—the sky’s orange tones changing to soft blues. My dad will call out for me to come inside and clean up before dinner any minute.

Jackson runs in the direction of his neighborhood and Cat squeezes me before grabbing Ambrose’s hand, tugging him forcefully because she’s been “holding her pee for years.” I wave them off, avoiding eye contact with Ambrose as I turn around to clean the few items left scattered around the yard.

I’m throwing my jump rope into a wicker basket when a hand grabs my shoulder, turning me. Before I can process what’s happening, Ambrose leans down and kisses me on the cheek.

“That’s how I wanted to do it.”

I stare up at him blankly, and he turns on his heels, casually walking in the direction of his house. It’s unclear how long I stay glued in place. I learned in science class that our sense of smell holds strong ties to memories, but I’m positive it’s my sense of touch that will remember this moment for the rest of my life. My dad’s voice floats through the sliding door, telling me to come in and shower before dinner. I walk on wooden legs, only sure of one thing. There’s no way I’m washing my cheek clean tonight. You couldn’t even double-dog dare me.

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