“Good thing this song is almost over, then.”
“Uh, definitely,” she tells me.
And then, just as the song ends and she lowers her arms, I do the unthinkable. I trace her jawline with my finger, then tip her chin up and press a kiss to her lips.
The Macarena blasts around us, but we just stand there, stunned. I can’t believe I did that. Lucy can’t believe I did that. But just when I start to apologize, she leans up and brushes a kiss across my lips, before turning and scurrying in the other direction.
Lucy Alvarez confuses the hell out of me.
* * *
Whit,age 15
Can you die of blue balls? Is that a thing? Because if that’s a thing, I’m in serious trouble. For the last year, I’ve been having thoughts—filthy, fantastic thoughts about Lucy. I couldn’t wait to get back to camp this summer to see her.
But she’s barely paid me any attention.
There was one time she asked me to put lotion on her back when she was lying out in front of her cabin. I nearly embarrassed myself.
And one time, we were picking teams for volleyball, and she looked straight at me…and then chose Knox. What the actual hell? He’s shorter than she is.
So, I’ve been forced to spend the summer watching my crush totally ignore me. It’s been awesome.
But she can’t ignore me now. Because a bunch of us are sitting around in a circle. And I just spun the bottle. And it landed on Lucy.
There are oohs and ahhhs from our asshole friends as I stand and take her hand. She looks at me, and for a second, I’m afraid she might puke. Great. The girl I’ve been crushing on wants to throw up at the prospect of spending five minutes alone with me. Jesus. Was our kiss last year that bad?
When we’re out of earshot, I lean against a tree and turn to face her. “Hey, Luce, relax. We don’t have to, like, do anything, you know.”
“Of course, I know that,” she says, as though she’s an expert on teenage kissing games.
“Alright, cool. So, how’s your summer been?” It’s a pretty lame question, but I don’t know what the hell else to say.
“Fine. Yours?”
“Great.”
“Fantastic,” she says, crossing her arms. And yeah, that move pushes her tits up a little higher. They’re small but firm and perfect, and I’m momentarily distracted. But then I get my head in the game.
“What the hell is your problem with me, Lucy?”
“I don’t have a problem,” she says, which is a sure sign that she does, in fact, have a problem.
“Bullshit. You haven’t looked my way all summer. I walk into a room, and you walk out of it. You haven’t said two words to me, and you looked ready to toss your cookies when that bottle pointed directly at you. So, what gives?”
“What gives?” she asks, splaying her arms wide. “What gives, Caleb Whitman, is that you kissed me last summer. You kissed me and then…nothing. Not a damn thing.Youcompletely ignoredmethis summer. Not hello, nothing. And fine. It was just a kiss. Not a marriage proposal. But—”
She takes a breath, and I lean in to kiss her. Seconds later, my hands are at her waist, and she’s pressing her body into mine. Her skin is soft, and she smells so good, and for a second, I want to stay here in the woods with Lucy forever.
A timer sounds from the direction of the bonfire, and Lucy pulls away.“Next summer, Caleb Whitman, don’t wait so long to kiss me.”
* * *
The last summer
Lucy, age 16
“Should I kiss you right now, or wait until you get out of your car?”
