Page 57 of The Kiss Class
The first night in the Fish Bowl is why. She’s mine.
“Why won’t you let me see what you wrote?” I stalk closer, closing the space between us.
“Because.” Cara flings the notebook across the room.
I can’t help but smile at how rash and irrational that was as I scramble after it. She chases me, but even off the ice, I’m faster. When I pick the notebook up off the floor, at the top of the page are the wordsKissing Class #3,and below that is a sketch of . . . me, standing in the kitchen with a cup of cider in my hand. She drew a frame around it, making it look like a social media post with little hearts floating up from the corner.
With “Underneath the Tree” playing in the background, the moment lengthens like a rubber band stretched taut.
I feel an inner tug, a growing warmth between us. I step closer. “I like these notes better than anything I said and not because you sketched me. You’re super talented, Cara.”
Hands wringing in front of her chest, she stares at the floor. “It’s justa doodle.”
“It’s amazing, and if no one has told you lately, so are you.” I pass her the notebook.
Her throat bobs on a swallow. “But I don’t think I’m good enough to be a video game concept designer.”
“If that’s your dream job, I believe you’ll figure out a way to make it happen.”
“That’s the thing. It’s not my dream job.” A long sigh escapes as if she’s been holding that in for a while.
“No? What’s your dream job then?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t know what I want to do when I grow up.”
“You look pretty grown up to me. What did you want to do when you were a kid?”
“Draw, but everyone said they were just doodles. Granted, it took me a while to get hands right. They’re so hard.”
“I play in the NHL and could stand to improve my wrister. It wouldn’t be worthwhile if it weren’t at least a little bit of a challenge, you know?”
“Everyone always told me how smart I was. My teachers said my intelligence would be wasted if I just spent all day doodling.”
“This is hardly a doodle, but I imagine it was a lot of pressure,” I say, sensing she’s never told anyone this.
Her arms open emphatically. “Exactly. I didn’t want to let my family down, especially without Mom. My brain has always been in fifth gear. When I draw, it slows down. When we kissed under the Merry Kiss Me sign, it went quiet. So quiet it was just you and me and—” Liquid brims in her eyes.
I’ve been told that I’m good at a lot of things—making blueberry jam, playing hockey, kissing . . . but never listening. It’s a new skill I’m going to employ because I think that’s what Cara needs right now.
And a hug.
I draw her into my arms. She’s rigid at first, but when her palms press to my back and the steady beat of my heart meets hers, she melts a little. I get an instant head rush as I breathe in her baby powder scent.
We linger in the hug much like we do with those loaded gazes we exchange.
When we eventually part, I say, “If you want my unsolicited advice, I’d say look back at where you’ve been and what you’ve learned. Even if you don’t pursue any of the fields you studied, you still know all those things. Be sure to track how far you’ve come. Then look ahead, but not at where you want to be in ten years.Whoyou want to be.”
Cara’s breath catches as if something I said resonated. “Wow. Thank you.”
“You can thank Dadaszek.”
“My father?”
“When he interviewed me for the team, that’s what he asked me. I never expected that I’d be here with you. Granted, it hasn’t quite been ten years.”
“Thank you and I appreciate you coaching me on how to kiss.”
“Class isn’t over. Everything I told you to write down was nonsense. Pure nonsense,” I say with a chuckle.
