As we headed out toward the harbor, it took me a few moments to realize that I was still holding Tristan's hand. And that I didn't want to let it go.
“Thanks so much for the flowers,” I said, remembering myself and my manners. I dropped his hand to touch a petal in the lively mix of colors and varieties.
“I know you told me never to buy them, but I wanted to do something to celebrate you making varsity. And since I didn't know your favorites …”
“You got me one of each.”
He exhaled a laugh. “Yeah, go with that.”
We arrived at the grassy hill and settled onto the bench. It was the same place we'd sat just over a week ago, debating whether Chrissandra had seen us together in my mom's SUV. And while that seemed like a lifetime ago, I could still tap into that night and those feelings, how anxious and worried I'd felt. And now here we were, with all that behind us. Well, sort of. One thing I knew was that he deserved my thanks and my full attention, so I scooted closer, until my hip was practically against his. “Everything's been so crazy. I don't know if I thanked you for all you did. I never could have pulled it off without you.”
“You're welcome, but sure you could have.” He stretched his arm around the bench behind me. “You were an incredible kisser, Parker, better than any of those girls from camp, right from that first moment.”
I turned and looked up, challenging him. “No way.”
“Way,” he said, and a grin touched his lips. “Nobody ever made me feel the way you do.”
Now he was playing with me. I blew out a disgusted sigh. “Oh, come on…. What about Emma? When you kiss her …”
“I don't kiss her.”
“Okay,” I said, steadying myself, “but when you do.…”
“I told you the other night, there's nothing between us. That hasn't changed and isn't going to.”
Something lit inside me, and I felt the heat travel up my cheeks. Then suddenly, he was eyeing me with those dark, probing blues.
“Why all this Emma stuff, anyway?”
I shrugged, my shoulder bumping his. “Well, every time I turned around, you two were together … and then you broke it off with me—well, you know, fake broke it off—”
“Exactly.”
I scrunched up my face. “Huh?”
“The whole thing was getting too confusing. The kicker,” he said, and looked off at the harbor lights, “was the day you pulled me into the alcove. I thought you wanted to be with me for real. Then that girl showed up, and suddenly you're laughing and running off like we'd gotten caught. I realized it was all a scam to get seen. And I felt pretty stupid.”
“No, no, not a scam,” I said, touching his arm. “I didn't know anyone would find us. And I really did come to you for … relief. See, I'd read on the Web that kissing was a great way to kill stress. And I was freaking over stuff Rachael had said.”
I smiled real big, hoping he'd buy in. But he kept looking straight ahead.
“But it wasn't about kissing me, Parker.”
“Yeah,” I managed, swallowing hard, knowing I owed him this much, “it was.”
He turned toward me and met my eyes. “Are you into me?”
This was so awkward. Worse than awkward. Catastrophically awkward, terminally awkward, or a-phrase-that-has-not-yet-been-invented awkward. The deep- seated feelings trapped inside me belonged to the fake Tristan and Parker, not the Tristan and Parker facing each other on this bench.
But I just had to say what I'd suspected for a while and known for certain while kissing Luke. “Yeah, I am.”
His arm inched forward, settling across my shoulder, comforting me.
Wow. What to do now, though? We existed in different worlds. He had his friends. And I was just getting mine back.
But maybe not if I admitted I was in love with a freshman.
Was that threat for real? And if so, how ironic was that? In order to keep what Tristan had helped me earn— varsity- level respect, on the field and off—I had to deny my feelings for him and walk away.
It wasn't fair.
Lost in thought, I lolled my head back against his arm. He tightened his hold around my neck, which only made things more confusing.
“You've become important to me,” I said, knowing I had to at least try to explain. “I mean, I know I joke with you and call you Sparky and stuff, but that's sort of my way of keeping my distance. Since I knew this thing,” I said, and wagged a finger between us, “could never really happen.”
I willed him to nod, to agree. To make it easy. But it was no surprise when he simply arched a brow. Nothing about Tristan had ever been easy.
“Here's the thing,” he said instead. “What if I was of a different race? Would that keep you from dating me?”
“A different religion? A citizen of another country?”
I shook my head.
“That would be discrimination, right?”
“Well, yeah …”
“And not dating me because I'm a freshman isn't?”
“I didn't say—”
He cut me off with a frown.
My shoulders slumped in his hold. He so had my number. “Look, Tristan, I promise I'll really talk you up in school, okay? You'll land an A-list ninth grader in no time.”
“Give me a break! You're not getting this at all.”
My heart seized up. Yeah, I was getting it. That was the problem. Like, Cupid's-bow-through-the-heart getting it.
“I ‘broke up’ with you the other day,” he said, exhaling, “because I couldn't keep pretending not to care. And I was afraid if it went on any longer, I'd get all angry or jealous or something. And we'd end up as stupid as our fathers, mad- dogging each other from across the street.”
A horn honked somewhere nearby, and a chill was settling into the evening air. But all I saw, all I felt, all I heard, was Tristan. I couldn't imagine him not being in my life, couldn't imagine not being able to turn to him, to talk to him.
To kiss him.
“So if we can't date, and we sure as heck don't want to be enemies—friends is basically what's left. So, what,” he said, and huffed out a sigh, “we shake hands and walk off?”
I shuddered, taking stock. I didn't know if that Victoria girl and Rachael had been for real about shunning me for dating a freshman. But if they had, maybe-just as Tristan had been showing me from the first day, when we swept up grass blades together—it was a matter of attitude. You act like you know what you're doing, like you're in complete control, and sooner or later, people start to believe it.
How else could I explain how I'd ended up taking kissing lessons from a guy just out of middle school? Maybe I was more of a fighter than I'd ever given myself credit for before. Maybe I was more than ready for this next challenge, as well.
“Shake hands and walk off?” I repeated, starting to come to my senses. “Yeah, we should totally do that. Except … not right now. And probably not any time tonight …”
“No?” A smile touched his face. “Tomorrow, then?”
“Maybe not tomorrow.”
“This weekend?”
His smile must have been contagious, because suddenly, it was all over me. “Definitely not until the end.”
“Or by the start of next week, for sure.”
“Maybe. Or maybe we don't have to break up at all.” I mean, if Rachael and Victoria gave me the cold shoulder because I'd found the right guy, who needed them? “But in the meantime, I'm going to need a lot more of those See-You-Later Kisses.”
“Not happening,” he said, lowering his face to mine. “No more goodbyes. But I'm willing to give you all the This-Is-Just-Beginning Kisses you'll ever want.”
I laughed, and his other arm came around me. Then his mouth settled over mine. In a perfect fit. In the sweetest kiss since, well, Westley kissed Buttercup or Romeo kissed Juliet. At least, to me.
Everything was wonderful. Peaceful. Perfect.
Until I looked up to see my parents and Tristan's dad marching toward us.