The First Kiss Hypothesis

by Mandelski, Christina

  And tonight, for the first time in a long time, I wonder if I might be wrong.

  I step inside, ready for her to hit me with a barrage of questions.

  “No, Jack.” She’s on the phone with my father. I hear her in the dining room, and it doesn’t sound good. It never is. “Are you serious?” she yells. Pause. “Well she’s not going to want to be a bridesmaid. She doesn’t even know the woman.”

  I pull the back door closed behind me. I assume this means that my father is getting married again, which isn’t in itself a surprise. He got remarried after the divorce, and it lasted a whole two years.

  “Well, that’s great, just great,” Mom says. “You need to ask her yourself. I don’t want anything to do with this.” Then there’s silence, and then I hear her crying.

  She comes into the kitchen, phone still in her hand.

  “Oh no,” she says when she sees me, her eyes all red and puffy. She sniffs. “Honey. Did you hear that?”

  “Some,” I say. She comes to me, and surrounds me with her arms. I love my mom so much. I love Dad, too, but together they aren’t just inert, they’re toxic.

  I let her hold me for a few seconds and then pull away.

  She sniffs again. “Do you want some cocoa?”

  “No, thanks.”

  She fills the tea kettle anyway, and sets it on the hot plate to boil. “Did you have fun? You’re home early.” Her voice breaks again.

  I can’t stand this. “It’s okay, Mom. Please don’t cry.”

  Mom clears her throat and wipes her tears. “You had fun?”

  “It was okay. Eli’s knee started to hurt, so we left.” Also, I experienced a little temporary insanity that this conversation is fixing, fast. “I’m tired, though.” I watch her as she readies a cup for tea, tears still falling down her face.

  This is what being with the wrong person does. This is the result.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  She smiles, but she’s not okay. “Yes, of course, it’s just your father. He seems bent on making my life miserable…”

  I can’t do this tonight. I can’t listen to her dump on Dad. “Mom, I’m really tired,” I say. “You can tell me in the morning.” I give her a kiss on her tearstained cheek and head to my room.

  Marie meets me at the bottom of the stairs. I pick her up and hold her close.

  That’s what happens when you don’t stick to reason, when you don’t wait for the reaction. You cry your eyes out in a burned-out kitchen trying to make sense of your life.

  That’s not going to be me. Not ever.

  I’ll finish the lessons with Eli, and then that’s it. As soon as I have my license everything will be back to normal. For now I just need to forget about that almost kiss in the water, and now in the garage, and move on. He’s not getting a second chance. I can’t give that to him, because the results of that kiss were clear. In science, a thing is or it isn’t. And Eli Costas isn’t.

  Up in my room, I fall into bed. My phone buzzes and Marie pounces on it. It’s Caleb, texting.

  Game Thursday?

  My brain is a jumble of messed up thoughts, I take a few deep breaths to clear it.

  I’ll give Caleb this: he doesn’t waste time. I know what I have to do. With the sounds of my sniffling mom echoing through the house, I text him back.

  I’d love to.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Eli

  I can’t sleep, the whole freaking night plays on an endless loop in my head. My knee hurts for real now, and I can’t get comfortable. Surgery is a week off, the Monday of spring break. The doctors are hopeful, and the coach from CSU called and told me that there shouldn’t be a problem holding a spot on the team once I’m cleared to play again. It’s good incentive to work my ass off in rehab. I will be cleared to play if it kills me.

  For now, Coach has me going to every practice, and assisting on JV. I’d rather be on the field, but it’s better than nothing. At least it keeps my mind off possibly being too damaged to do well in college, or to get into a pro league. There’s even been talk of making lacrosse an Olympic sport, which is something I’ve always wanted to do.

  I thrash around in bed, as much as I can with my knee immobilized. There will be plenty of time to deal with all that shit later. Right now, I’m trying to work out what to do about my neighbor. Tonight was insane. Not in a bad way, completely. I mean, if my plan was to talk her out of her hypothesis by making her fall for me without a kiss, I’d say I definitely made progress.

  Then I had to go and pour my heart out to her.

  When we kiss again? Really?

  NOT part of my plan? Asshat Tex asking her out in the laundry room.

  Also not even remotely in the plan? I’m in love with her. What the actual fuck? I’m eighteen—I’m supposed to be playing the field, not falling in love.

  Long story short, I’m in deep shit. She was supposed to fall for me, not the other way around. Now I can’t stop thinking about her and I can’t stop what I’ve started. We almost kissed, and she said, “Don’t be sorry.” I’m not sure what to think about that, except that maybe she’s close to giving up on her theory. Maybe she just needs a little more convincing.

  Or maybe I’m just a schmuck in love with a girl who can’t love him back. Either way, it’s full-court press time, and I’ve got a few ideas. When you’re playing a game to win, you’ve got to assess the other team’s weak spots and use them. I’ve known Nora a long time, and she’s got a few I can capitalize on for sure. Like our history together. And pie. Definitely pie.

  If I do this right, if I give it 100 percent like I do on the field, maybe we’ll both win.

  Or maybe I’ll get my ass kicked and lose her forever.

  ...

  I’m in the empty hallway—well, me and a few other fellow students on crutches. We get out of class early because we’re slow, or in danger of being further injured when our classmates blow out of the classroom doors, especially at the end of the day like it is now.

  Nora has biology last period, so I head toward the science wing to catch her on her way out. I figured out where we’re going for our next lesson, and it’s fucking perfect.

  The classroom door is propped open. Mr. Chaffee is sitting behind his desk, reading something while the rest of the class is talking among themselves.

  I catch a glimpse of Nora’s hair, or the back of it anyway. She’s turned around and talking to Abby, and sitting at the table beside her is Tex.

  Great.

  I knew he was in this class, but do they really have to sit together? He leans toward her and says something, and they’re both having a great time, and I want to bash his teeth in with my crutch.

  “What was that, Mr. Costas?” Mr. Chaffee calls to me.

  I may have made some sort of grunting noise just now, imagining taking a swing at Gray. Something came out of me that sounded pretty angry.

  I shift on my crutches. “Nothing.”

  He gets up and walks toward the door. NO, dude, stay, don’t come over here. He comes anyway, leans against the doorframe, and crosses his arms.

  “Was that just you sounding your barbaric yawp to the universe?”

  “What?”

  He laughs and pats my shoulder. “Look it up,” he says. “Are you waiting for Nora?”

  I shrug and glance around his bulky body. Tex is still talking to her. “I’m her ride.”

  “Yeah, I know. Smart, that one. Going places.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Places you pushed her to go, asshole.

  “I was sorry to hear about your knee. You’ll be missed on the field this season, that’s for sure.”

  Thanks for bringing it up. “Yeah.” I wish he’d go sit down. I’m trying to monitor the situation behind him. What if she says yes to him?

  “Have you decided what you’re doing next year?” Chaffee asks.

  It’s like a law when you’re a high school senior that adults have to ask this question. It’s so annoying. “State,” I answer.
Like I have a choice.

  His jaw drops. “You’re not serious?”

  Um. Where’s he going with this? “Yeah.”

  He squints and scratches at his lumberjack beard. “Come on, Costas. State? Your grades are good enough for better schools—how were your test scores?”

  I crane my neck, trying to keep an eye on Tex. “Eh.” I only took the ACT once, did good enough to get into State, which was the plan.

  “I see. You’re still going to apply though, right?” he presses. “North Florida, South Florida, Central Florida—good schools, all of them. Do you know what you want to major in?”

  Another question adults are required to ask. “No idea.”

  He frowns. “Fortunately, you still have a time to figure that out. In the meantime, you need to apply,” he says. “Those schools have decent lacrosse teams, too. I even went to school with one of the coaches at North Florida…”

  I tune him out. Teachers get so excited about this shit. I hate to kill his buzz.

  “Thanks, Mr. C, but I’m injured. I’m lucky that State is holding a place for me on the team for now. Plus, you know, school’s not really my strong suit. You remember how I did in your class?”

  He nods. He knows. “I remember you did well when you felt like it.”

  He’s not wrong about that. The problem was I never felt like it.

  “Well, I hope you at least consider applying to more places. You just never know.”

  I try to see around him, see what Tex is up to. “Yeah, maybe. I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

  “Eli, Eli, Eli,” Chaffee says. “You’re eighteen years old—your hopes are supposed to be up. If they get dashed to the ground, you need to grab them and get them up all over again! Do you understand me?”

  I blink at him. “Um. Yeah, I guess.” Dude needs to relax.

  “Yeah?” he yells, really loud, and the whole class looks over.

  “Yeah. Jesus, Mr. C, chill,” I whisper, hoping he doesn’t draw Nora’s attention.

  He looks convinced that I’m going to actually apply to these other places, and I don’t hate that he thinks that I can, even if I’m not gonna. He steps back from the door. The bell is about to ring. I see Nora, and she sees me, and she smiles big. It might be my imagination, but she looks lit up inside, like she’s glad I’m here. Tex is busy talking to Abby.

  What did he say about getting my hopes up?

  “Hey, Mr. C?” I call over the building pre-bell noise.

  “Yeah?”

  “Barbaric yawp? Walt Whitman, Song of Myself.” I have a fricking eighty-four in English.

  He laughs. “Maybe you know what you ought to major in after all!”

  The bell rings and Chaffee disappears behind the swarm of students rushing for the door.

  “What was that?” Nora’s still smiling as she exits the room, Abby at her side, Tex hovering behind them like an annoying buzzard. “What were you and Mr. C. talking about?”

  “Oh, nothin’, you know, he’s a freak.”

  Tex edges up behind her. “Hey, Eli.” He says to me. Dude is way too friendly. It would help a lot if he really was an asshole.

  I lift my chin. “Caleb.”

  “What’s up? You gonna be at practice tonight?”

  “No, gonna lay off the knee tonight,” I say. Coach asked me to assist at the JV game tomorrow night, the same one Tex asked Nora to in the laundry room. She hasn’t mentioned whether she’s going, and I haven’t asked her, because I don’t really want to know.

  All I can think is she better not say yes. She hates organized sports. I’ve been playing since before we met, and she’s only been to like three games, and only because I asked, and she complained the whole time. No way is she going to a game with Tex.

  Hopefully that’s not just me getting my hopes up.

  I walk beside Nora, and it hits me again, the same feeling I had at O’Dell’s. If I started to question it, I don’t now. Love isn’t too strong a word. “You ready?” I ask her, and notice Abby staring at me funny. Like she knows something’s going on with me, even though that’s impossible. Not that it matters. I have a plan, and time is wasting.

  We’re almost to the front doors and Tex manages to wrangle his way between me and Nora. “I don’t mind giving you a ride home.” His words hang over us like stink over cow shit.

  Die, Tex. Die.

  I cringe when she touches his arm.

  “Thanks, Caleb, but I’m fine,” she says. “Eli lives right next door. It’s easy.”

  I check out Tex’s face, which is almost always plastered with that annoying cowboy grin. Right this second, though, he’s pouting like his favorite goat just died, and this makes me feel good.

  When we get to MJ, finally rid of Abby and the asswipe, I hold out the keys to her.

  “What?” she says, confused.

  I jangle them in front of her. “You’re driving.”

  Her forehead wrinkles up and she sputters out a nervous giggle. “No. I can’t drive this thing.”

  This is gonna suck if she refuses to come with me. “Yeah you can. If you can drive your car, you can drive MJ.”

  “No, Eli, no.” She tries to hand back the keys but I don’t take them. “I need to practice in my car. I can’t drive your truck.”

  I’m not taking no for an answer. “Come on, of course you can. This will be your final exam.”

  “Final?” The word drops out of her mouth, almost like she’s sorry.

  She’s not as sorry as I am. “Yes, spring break is upon us, babe. I’m getting cut open, you’ve got an appointment at the DMV. It’s time.”

  Her forehead wrinkles get even deeper. “Eli, A) I don’t know how to drive this thing. And B), do not call me ‘babe.’”

  “Right, sorry. But you’re wrong, you do know how to drive this ‘thing’—it’s no different from your car.”

  She shakes her head. “No. My car is not held together by duct tape.”

  “What?” I say with mock outrage. “You don’t need to get nasty. You know I drive this truck all over. Mike’s a beast. Trust me.”

  “Trust you?”

  I feel the need to move closer to her, to remind her of what almost happened between us the other night. I don’t want to freak her out, but I’m definitely in her personal space. “Yes. Trust me. I have a plan.”

  She lifts an eyebrow. “A plan?” The corner of her mouth turns up. In this moment, she’s so sexy I want to give her the longest, deepest, lightning bolt-ish kiss ever. I feel like I could make that happen. Right now.

  Now is not the right time, I remind myself, but I hope it comes. I need for it to come.

  She grips the keys and walks to the passenger side. “Okay. I’ll trust you this once.” She helps me in and takes my crutches, throws them into the bed, and gets behind the wheel. Somehow, she manages to get MJ started on the first try.

  I couldn’t imagine anyone else driving MJ—Nora, though, she looks just right. “See,” I tell her, “he already likes you better than me. Good job. Hey…” Crap. I almost forgot to ask. “You don’t have anything going on tonight, do you?”

  She backs out of my spot, like she’s been doing it her whole life. “Why?”

  “Just that we might be out a while.”

  “Where are we going?”

  I beat a quick rhythm on the dashboard. “Not telling. Yes or no. Are you free?”

  “I can always prepare for Science Olympiad.”

  This totally cracks me up. “So that’s a hard yes, you’re free. Olympic training doesn’t count.”

  She smirks. “If you want me to drive, you have to tell me where we’re going.”

  “Nope. You said you would trust me. I’ll tell you exactly where to go. Don’t worry. Just drive.”

  Instead she puts MJ in park and twists up her mouth. “I like knowing the plan.”

  Surprise, surprise. “You’re such a control freak. Do you think, just this once, you can please, let me be in charge?”

  �
�All right. Fine,” she says. “I didn’t realize I was so difficult.”

  “Well now you know. So just drive already. You’re killing me.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Nora

  By the time we get to the highway, I can’t stand it anymore. I’ve kept my inner control freak at bay for long enough. “So when are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

  Eli throws up his hands. “That’s enough! It’s a surprise.”

  A wave of discomfort ripples through my stomach. I don’t know why he’s being so mysterious and I hope it doesn’t have anything to do with what happened in the garage the other night. I need to forget about that, stick with my hypothesis. He’s wearing the shirt today, though, the blue-green one, and his hair looks so good, messy and yet, perfect. Also, he’s wearing the glasses, claiming his contacts are bugging him.

  If we end up in another near-kiss situation, I don’t know how I’ll stop. I just know that I have to.

  I inhale. “Well, I’m surprised.” I switch lanes to avoid the semi that’s barreling up behind me. “You’re making me drive this truck to an undisclosed location on a busy highway.” The sound of Michael Jordan going sixty-five miles an hour is so loud I have to shout to be heard. “I’d feel better if I knew there was pie involved.”

  “Don’t worry,” he yells. “This will be better than pie.”

  “Better than pie?” I am doubtful, and nervous.

  On the way to this mystery location, we shout over MJ’s clattering body about everything: school, what Mr. Chaffee said to him about applying to other colleges, about Ari and Gigi and his parents and my parents, about his dog, Chester, and Marie Curie. I love how we can talk about anything.

  Of course, we don’t say a word about O’Dell’s garage, or the beach, or any of the weird moments we’ve been having lately.

  I also don’t tell him that I’m going to the JV game with Tex. Eli will understand. He knows my theory. In a few days I’ll have my driver’s license and things will change. We’ll see a lot less of each other. He’ll go to the parties without me. I’ll probably kiss Tex and hope for a positive result.