Right and wrong have their debate somewhere deep in my head, but my heart mutes them. I have imagined kissing this girl so many ways, but never in a million years did I expect her to be the one initiating it. Wanting to take her pain away, to leave her brave and loved, I kiss her harder, supporting her back as I arch her toward her car until her shoulder blades rest against the side panel.
Both of her hands push into my hair—the stupid dad hat lost somewhere in the parking lot—as I dip my mouth into the curve of her neck and nip my way up her cold, soft skin until my lips finds her ear.
“I’m sorry,” I say, not knowing why but feeling as if I should apologize for taking advantage of this moment, for giving in, and for letting her give in, too. My teeth graze along her earlobe while she lifts her legs and wraps them around my waist.
I grab under her thighs to support her weight, lifting her so she’s above me, holding my face and kissing my mouth as if I’m her dream, too. I kiss her until my lips are raw. I kiss her until the football field lights shut off. And I kiss her until the maintenance crew’s pickup truck echoes on the other side of the lot, threatening to lock us inside. We leave before they can. I drive us home in her car. And when we get there, I kiss her more, in case I never get to again.
Seventeen
I can’t stop smiling.
I smile through Grandpa’s eggs, and I never smile through Grandpa’s eggs. I’ve also been downright chipper while Dale barks at me and calls me a half-dozen unflattering things as we work our way through the new wiring harness for the Bronco. Apparently, the work I did on my own has to be redone, which a different version of me would feel is a massive waste of time. Today’s Jonah, though? He thinks mistakes like this are opportunities for learning. When I say that, I think Dale wants to punch me. The happier I am about everything, the more irritated he becomes.
“We’re going to need more connectors. I don’t know how you got things so jacked up, but we’re basically back to square one on this stuff.” Dale pulls his hat off and runs a hand towel over his sweaty head.
Okay, I’m starting to feel a little bad. I’m still really freaking happy, but there’s a tinge of guilt that I’ve ruined Dale’s Saturday.
“Show me what to get and I’ll make a run.” I step up to peer under the hood while Dale shows me exactly what he needs, being a little more precise than necessary—and maybe a little condescending—but who cares, because last night I spent a good three hours making out with Eleanor Trombley.
“Did I hear you say you’re running out?” Grandpa steps through the open garage door with his morning paper tucked under his arm.
“Yeah. Dale’s sending me to Toby’s for parts,” I holler.
“Dale’s not sending the dipshit anywhere,” Dale barks out. “Kid made a mess and now he has to clean it up is all. And I’m not going to the place I work on my day off.” Dale’s testiness amuses my grandpa, who laughs his way forward until the three of us are looking under the hood together.
“You’re still bitter about poker,” Grandpa ribs his friend.
Dale only grumbles a response.
“Think I can hitch a ride with you? We’re out of coffee and I got a coupon for one of those fancy frappe mocha almond creamy hot latte suckers,” Grandpa says.
“Uh, I don’t think that’s a drink, but yeah. We can swing through the drive-thru.”
“Got room for one more?” Her voice startles all of us, but I’m the only love-struck idiot who rams his head into the underside of the hood when he stands. I rub my palm over the sore spot but really, I don’t feel much other than the flurry of butterflies that have released inside my chest.
“Hey, uh, hi.” I trip when I step from the small stool I’m on, and I cover my clumsiness by leaning with my palm against the inside of the engine compartment. I’m not on anything solid, though, so when my thumb snags a set of wires, it pulls them loose from God knows where.
“Fucking hell,” Dale says, throwing the greasy towel he’s been holding at my new mess.
I grit my teeth and step back up to get a better look at what I’ve done, but Dale pushes me down with his hand in my chest. He shoves his keys at me with his other hand.
“No, you don’t touch anything. You go shopping. And take these fools with you. I want some alone time.”
I nod at Dale’s order, but under the panicked façade, I’m still smiling. I couldn’t erase it if I tried.
“All right, so let’s hit the road,” Grandpa says, already making his way toward Dale’s car. It’s a pretty nice ride, an actual classic Dodge Challenger, not one of those modern-day copycats. I’m a little surprised he trusts me with the keys considering his opinion of me a minute ago.
“All right, honey. You’re crawling in the back because we both don’t want to see me get stuck halfway.” Grandpa slides the passenger seat forward and Eleanor glances at me with a coy smile before dipping her head down and working her way into the back seat.
My grandpa lets the seat fling back into place when she gets settled, but before he gets into the passenger side, he pauses to stare at me over the roof of the car while he gnaws at the inside of his cheek and squints one
