The First Kiss Hypothesis

by Mandelski, Christina

  That’s why you’re out here, Nora!

  I clear my throat and cross my arms. “Eli?”

  “Yeah?” he says. “Hey, what’s up with your hair anyway?”

  “What?” I touch it. Oh God, I didn’t even look at it before I ran outside. The humidity. It’s got to be huge.

  He lifts a hand and waves it around. “It’s like, everywhere.”

  My insides clench. He doesn’t like my hair? I immediately corral it into a ponytail. “I just got up. Jeez.”

  “No, I mean, it’s not bad,” he says. “It’s just different.”

  Ari walks to his brother and takes the ball from him. “He likes your hair. He thinks your hair is pretty.”

  The world goes silent. Because the thing about Ari is, he doesn’t lie. He’s wonderful and brilliant and funny, and he’s on the autism spectrum, which is another medical mystery I’d like to research. Ari is sensitive to emotions and sounds, remembers all sorts of facts about things like weather and sports, and he never, ever lies.

  “What the fuh—?” Eli catches himself, and his face goes blank. “I did not say that.”

  I smile at Ari while my mind whirls like one of those paper pinwheels in the wind. “He does, does he?”

  “Yes. And he also wants to kiss you.”

  I swallow hard and say nothing.

  Eli’s tanned face reddens, I swear it does. “Uh. What? There is no way in hell.” He lifts his chin to me. “No offense.”

  Now my face gets hot. “Oh, don’t worry, none taken.” Although I’m not going to lie, I’ve totally taken offense. “No way” I understand. But “in hell”? That’s a little extreme.

  “Mom!” Ari shouts. “Eli said a bad word.” He runs into the house to tell his mother.

  A weird silence falls between Eli and me until he dribbles the ball. Thonk. “Just so you know, I never said that,” he says.

  Why would he say that? That ship sailed five years ago in Madison Dunn’s garage. “I know.”

  He drills the ball hard into the driveway again, not making eye contact. “I mean, I’m not an idiot. I would never say that, or think it.”

  I scratch my head. That’s enough of this conversation. “All right. I got it.” Time to make my plan happen. “Hey, do you have time to head out to the center? Just for a short visit?”

  His forehead wrinkles. “Now? I guess.”

  “Good.” I bite my bottom lip. “Also, I was thinking maybe we could take my car?” I make fists of my hands—I’m more nervous than I thought. He dribbles the ball again. “And that maybe I can drive?” I almost whisper.

  “You want to drive?”

  I blink, not really wanting to drive at all. “Yeah. I mean, yes. I want to get my license. For real this time.”

  “You?” Two more thonks of the ball. “Drive?”

  “God. Yes. Me. Drive.” My mouth is dry and I sound like a caveman. “Look, it’s not a big deal. I’m just ready, and I can’t tell Mom. Not yet. She thinks I should never drive again.”

  He says nothing, like maybe he agrees with Mom.

  I see he’s going to take some convincing. “Just think. When I can drive, you’ll be free of me. Here’s your chance to get your life back.”

  He palms the ball back and forth between his hands, then drops it. Thonk. “I don’t mind driving you around.”

  “I know, I know.” I look toward our garage where the death trap awaits. “It’s just that I’m eighteen. Realistically I need to be able to drive. Right?”

  And also, maybe it’ll help me stop picturing you naked in my bathtub?

  When I glance up, his eyes are burning into me.

  He drops the ball on the driveway and it rolls away. “Okay, but if you hit something—or someone—I’m out. Like, I will flee the scene. You’ll be on your own.”

  I frown. “Thanks. That really helps my confidence.”

  Eli inhales deep. “Okay. Grab your keys, Dale Jr.”

  “Who?”

  He rubs his forehead. “Never mind. Get dressed and let’s go.”

  Chapter Four

  Eli

  She wants driving lessons? The second she puts it out there, I know why. My stomach drops. This is about Emory University and all the new guys she’ll be able to kiss.

  Dammit, she’s actually seriously considering that place.

  Also, thanks to my brother, she now thinks I want to kiss her. I know it’s not Ari’s fault that he just says things, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to kill him.

  For reasons I can’t comprehend, I agree to go with her to see Gigi. Up in my bathroom, I get ready like it’s a damn date. It’s hot for February, so I body spray the crap out of every crevice, get dressed, and start to put in contacts. Then I stop, remember something Nora said a while back, about how she loves guys in glasses.

  She was talking about some actor, I can’t even remember who. She said, “He’s not that cute in real life, but he puts on those glasses and I swear, I’d do anything for him.”

  Anything.

  Although she wouldn’t, would she? Not if she kissed him first and it sucked. She’d just add him to her list of unlovable dudes.

  I scowl at myself in the bathroom mirror. God, do I really think girls like these stupid things? Do I think that she likes them?

  Don’t be a dumbass. That girl doesn’t care how you look. She’s spent the last five years reminding me that I have absolutely no place in her messed-up plan for future happiness. Meanwhile, I’ve spent the last five years trying to move on, all while watching her date and dump a string of guys who didn’t measure up. According to Nora, we’re two people who kissed once, badly. End of story. After that, she stuck me in the friend zone, where I’ve hung out ever since.

  That’s when the idea hits me like a lacrosse shaft to the shin. What if one of us first-kiss losers escape the friend zone? Changed her mind? Proved her theory wrong? Maybe she wouldn’t want to go to Emory. Maybe she’d stay in Edinburgh.

  What if she fell for someone she crossed off her list a long time ago?

  Someone like me. No one else could pull it off. No one knows her like I do.

  Just like that, I have a plan.

  The five miles to and from school every weekday isn’t enough time to make it happen, but giving her driving lessons changes things. We’ll have to spend more time together. We’ll have to go places, besides school and home, together.

  I will make Nora Reid fall in love with me.

  I slip the glasses back on and try to ignore how totally impossible that sounds.

  She’s in the garage talking to Ari when I come down. He’s comfortable with her, more than he is with most people. Sometimes I wonder if, deep down, he has a crush on Nora. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t really understand love or romance, but what do I know? Ari’s got a lot of secrets locked inside that brain of his. He’s super smart, so smart that I’m pretty sure my parents wonder how the hell they ended up with a dumbshit like me.

  Ari would hate it if she left. I’m doing this for him, too.

  “Can I go with you?” he asks Nora. “I’ve never been in a 2015 Ford Escort.”

  “You have karate today, numbnuts,” I remind him.

  “Ah-yah!” He chops through the air. This kid. I love the dude.

  “All right, calm down, Chuck Norris. Go inside. Mom wants you.”

  A turd-like grin spreads across his face. “You’re going on a date.”

  Dammit, I’m gonna kill him.

  Nora spits out a laugh. “No, we’re not, Ari. Not in a million years.” She catches my gaze and sneers. “No offense,” she says. Those eyes sparkle.

  It sucks having your own words thrown back in your face.

  “None taken,” I say. She hands me the keys and I’m confused. “I thought you were driving?”

  She walks around to the passenger side and gets in without a word. I get behind the steering wheel and close the door behind me. “What’s going on?” I ask. “You aren’t gonna drive?”


  “Yes, I’m going to drive,” she says. “Just not here. Mom’s inside.”

  I nod. “Oh that’s right, I forgot we’re perpetrating a lie. Will she mind that I’m driving your car?”

  “I told her we wanted to see Gigi,” she says, “and that MJ isn’t exactly reliable.”

  I stick the key into the ignition. It never leaves the garage, so I guess it makes sense that it still smells like new car. It purrs like a kitten when I turn the key. Not like Michael Jordan. Of course, MJ has heart, and this thing is pretty much a soulless shell of generic steel.

  I back down the driveway. “He’s not unreliable.”

  I don’t have to look at her to know she’s smirking.

  “Not at all,” she says with maximum sarcasm.

  “When are we switching places?”

  “I don’t know—the Mermaid?”

  Fine. I drive us there in silence, feeling like this plan of mine hasn’t got a chance in hell. When I pull into the Mermaid and put the car in park, she gulps, loudly.

  “You sure you want to do this?” I ask. “You look sort of pale.”

  She hesitates, blinks slowly. “Yes. I’m sure.” Doesn’t sound convincing at all. “It’s time. It’s definitely time.”

  I run my hands along the top of the steering wheel. “Why? No one’s forcing you.”

  She gnaws on her bottom lip. That’s her tell when she’s worried. “No, I know.” But she doesn’t make a move to get out.

  “You sick of me?” I ask.

  She turns to face me. “No. Of course not. I just need to do this. It’s time.” Her eyes, they’re so big. “Will you help me?”

  I feel a twist in my chest, like an overturned screw, and something inside me breaks. Damn this girl and the power she holds over me. I reach for the door handle. “Let’s switch.”

  She doesn’t move.

  “You know,” I say, “if you want to get a driver’s license, you might actually have to drive.” I’m relieved that I can still be a sarcastic son of a bitch, even when I’m a total pushover to this girl who is keeping a huge secret from me.

  “Okay,” she says, so quiet I almost can’t hear her. “Just don’t make fun of me.” She hesitates, then opens her door. “Promise.”

  “I don’t know. I’ll try?”

  There’s a half smile, but by the time we trade places, it’s gone. It’s pretty much just sheer terror on her face.

  “You all right?” I ask.

  Tiny nod.

  “You know, if you puke, you can kiss this new car smell good-bye forever.”

  She grips the steering wheel. “You couldn’t even get out of the parking lot without making fun of me.”

  I set my jaw. “Okay, right, sorry, sorry.”

  “You know,” she says. “A pep talk, maybe, might be good.”

  “Okay. Right.” I’ve been playing lacrosse since I was four. Pep talks I can do. “Hey, Nora?”

  She stares blankly out the windshield like she’s stoned. Damn, she’s really freaked out.

  “Nora? Yo. Look at me.”

  She turns my way. There she is. Terrified.

  I put on my serious game face. “So, there’s nothing to this driving thing. It’s easy.”

  Her gaze moves back out the front window.

  “Eyes on me, Reid,” I say. “Listen. To successfully drive a car, you have to do two things: one”—I hold up a finger—“stay in the lines, just like in kindergarten. Remember, coloring? Stay in the lines. And Two.” I add another finger. “Don’t hit the car in front of you. That’s pretty much all there is to it.”

  “That is not all there is,” she says.

  “Well…” I dip my chin. “True. You should also look behind you when you back up so you don’t break anyone’s legs. I’m guessing you won’t forget to do that again, though. Right?”

  She sits up straighter. “No. I won’t. Right.”

  “Okay. You remember which pedal is which?”

  She hits me with her angry eyes, still huge and sparkling. “I do have a functioning brain.”

  “I know, but it’s been a while. You gotta adjust your mirrors. Can you do that?”

  “Yeah, I think so,” she says and reaches for the rearview. She runs the little automatic side mirror switch and then turns back to me. “Okay.”

  I slap the dashboard. “Great. Okay, let’s go.”

  She looks over her right shoulder, puts the car in reverse, and starts to slowly back up. And by slowly I mean she’s not moving at all.

  “You gotta give it some gas.”

  “I know. Just…give me a second.”

  I’m trying to stay calm, but I’m starting to think maybe this was a bad idea.

  “It’s all right.” I keep my voice low. “I get it. Just get past the first back up and you’ll be gold.”

  She breathes deep again and steps on the gas. The car jerks, but eventually she finds the sweet spot and manages to back out in a perfect arc.

  “Nice.” I turn around. “Don’t see any bone shards.”

  “Shut up.” She shifts into drive and maneuvers slowly through the parking lot.

  “Good. You’re really doing good. You feel better?” I ask. She was almost done with driver’s ed when the accident happened. She knows how to drive. It just freaked her out, which is why her mom has paid me to drive her to school for almost two years.

  “Yeah, sort of.” She tries for a confident expression, but doesn’t quite hit the mark.

  Coach once made the team do yoga together, so I try to channel what I remember. “Just stay calm. You’re doing fine.”

  She turns onto Main Street and gets honked at almost immediately.

  She squeals. “Why are they honking at me? Idiots!”

  “That’s it,” I say. “Embrace the road rage. Use it. Maybe to push the gas pedal?” She’s totally crawling.

  “I asked you not to make fun of me,” she says.

  “Sorry. Sorry. You’re doing great, just a little more gas. Please.”

  She guns it so she’s actually going the speed limit, for about thirty seconds.

  I don’t say anything.

  It takes us twice as long as it should to get to Edinburgh Oaks Assisted Living Center. Nora stays about five miles an hour below the posted speed limit the entire time, and passes the entrance twice. She parks the car like she’s legally blind, but the lot is mostly empty so I don’t make a big deal of it.

  I don’t think this plan is gonna work.

  She uncurls her fingers from the steering wheel. It’s like they’re shrink-wrapped to the leather. “Okay,” she says. “I did it. That wasn’t too bad, was it?” Her body visibly relaxes. “Thanks, Eli. What would I do without you?”

  “You’d be totally fucked.”

  She frowns. “I hate that word.”

  “Sometimes it’s the only one that works.”

  We get out of the car and walk side by side to the front doors. The building looks like a hospital, it’s a dull beige color with two floors. As usual, there are a bunch of really old people on the benches out front, or in wheelchairs, a lot of them in pajamas. Most of them smile, some of them wave. I wave back at one old guy sitting right by the door. He’s thinking, This is you one day, sonny boy!

  Nora leads the way through the automatic doors and I’m hit with the usual smell—shit and cough syrup.

  “God, can’t they do something about that?” I cough. She signs us in and I follow her down the wide hall. I’ve been to visit more than a few times, and I try not to let this place or these people creep me out. But it does. And they do. Because that dude outside is right. This is where we’re all headed, and that’s depressing as hell.

  We get to room 116, and Nora raps lightly on the door.

  “Come on in,” a voice, not Gigi’s, says.

  Nora pushes the door open and there she is, sitting in her chair, with her nurse, Claudia, brushing her hair.

  What happens next is anyone’s guess. Sometimes Gigi remembers us, someti
mes she doesn’t. Nora gets really sad when she doesn’t, so I hope for the best.

  There’s something about Nora being sad that, since the day we met, makes me nuts. There’s nothing I can do about Gigi, but with my new plan, I might be able to save Nora from future sadness as a lonely cat lady.

  All I have to do is make her question everything she believes, get her to fall for me, denounce her dumbass first kiss theory, and now, make sure she doesn’t kill us both in a car accident.

  Sure. No problem.

  Chapter Five

  Nora

  “Hey, look who’s here, Miss Maggie,” Claudia says. “It’s Nora and Eli, come for a visit.”

  Gigi lifts her head. God, let her remember me, I send up a silent prayer. Eli is beside me, and I almost reach for his hand, but stop myself in the nick of time.

  Gigi smiles big. “Oh, there’s my sweet Nora and Eli.”

  I almost sag with relief. Instead, I make a beeline for her. “Hi, Gigi!”

  I give her a hug, noticing how thin she feels in my arms. Then it’s Eli’s turn. He and Gigi have always been close, even before I moved in, and her smile gets even wider as his broad shoulders engulf her.

  “We’re having a good day today,” Claudia reports. “This young lady ate all her lunch, and she played a game of checkers with Mr. Ruiz.”

  Gigi huffs. “Well, I was hungry! And that man was getting way too cocky about his checker-playing abilities.”

  “Did you whoop his ass?” Eli asks.

  “You better believe I did,” she says, sounding like her old self.

  I pull up a chair beside her. “Did you have a good week?” I ask.

  She takes my hand and pats it. “Oh yes. I miss my sweet girl, though.”

  My heart hurts in my chest. “I miss you, too.” I try to keep my voice from breaking. I’m here to cheer her up, not to cry.

  “Grades good?”

  “Of course,” I say.

  She pats my hand again and turns to Claudia. “Nora is number one in her class. She’s going to be a scientist.” I’m glad she remembers that fact, if only she hadn’t told Claudia the same exact thing when I was here last week.