Stuck With You (First Kiss Hypothesis)

by Christina Mandelski

  “Huh,” Sunny says, never taking her eyes off of me.

  “Tomorrow is Tuesday.” Ainsley smirks. “That leaves you with a lot of free time. What ever will you do to entertain yourselves?” She laughs. Subtlety is not her strong suit.

  “Well.” I clear my throat in an attempt to un-awkward this situation. “I don’t know about Caleb, but I’m going to read.” I force myself to sound a thousand times more bubbly than I feel. “And sit on the beach. That’s what I’m going to do. You do whatever you want”—I nod in Caleb’s direction—“but that’s what I’ll be doing. Reading. I’m right in the middle of this romance series I’ve been loving. And I’ll be sitting. On the beach. That’s all.”

  Diarrhea of the mouth is a real thing, y’all. My palms are covered with sweat as my mind wanders to that very same romance series. It’s about a woman who falls for the least likely guy on the planet, a guy she hates at the beginning of the book.

  Maybe I need to start something new.

  “Sounds like a good idea,” Caleb offers, seemingly oblivious to Ainsley’s innuendoes. “Me? I’m gonna sleep and figure stuff out.” He shakes his head and picks up his second taco, no idea of the subtext of this conversation.

  They think something is going to happen between us. They’re wrong, though. Right now, Caleb’s casual manner is telling me that I’ve called this correctly, and that the hand touch was just him being a friend, and that’s fine with me. Absolutely fine.

  And the situation in his swim trunks? Hey, I don’t have a penis, but I know this much—it happens. Doesn’t even necessarily need a reason to. So I need to get over myself and stop thinking that whole…thing…was somehow caused by me.

  “I think that’s a good idea.” Oh, Ainsley, please stop talking. “You both have things to figure out.” She lifts her drink and takes a loud drag through the straw. “Just remember to use protection…” She barely gets it out before she busts out laughing. Sunny shoves her.

  Caleb, who doesn’t seem to be picking up on any of this, gets up to throw out his trash.

  That does it, I’m going to kill her, but first I’ve got to get this situation in hand while Caleb is gone.

  “Okaay,” I say. “Ainsley, you need to hush.” I lean across the table. “You don’t understand how two people can spend a few nights under the same roof without having sex?”

  “No,” Ainsley interrupts. “Not how, but why?”

  “It is possible, you know?” I whisper. “To just be friends.” Caleb sits back down. Then I scowl at her and mouth the word “STOP.”

  I stand up and gather my trash. I’m tired and ready to go home, and when I look down at my arms, I can tell the sunscreen wasn’t 100 percent effective. I can see a pink hue emerging. Dammit.

  “Y’all ready?” It’s not really a question. I walk away without giving anyone a chance to answer.

  As we walk back to Caleb’s truck, Sunny hangs back and sticks her arm through mine.

  “This has been fun,” she says.

  “Then why aren’t you staying until tomorrow night?” I ask.

  She doesn’t answer the question but tightens her grip on my arm. We walk together, linked, like we probably did in kindergarten. “I just want you to be happy,” she says, “and I don’t know why, but I know you’re not. Right now.” She shakes her head, then grins, with her brown eyes wide. “Plus—did you see what I saw at the bottom of that slide?”

  I quirk up my mouth and roll my eyes. “You’re kidding, right? There were girls all over the place. It wasn’t about me.”

  The eyeroll that she throws right back at me is of epic proportions. “Oh, please. Don’t even. That whole…situation”—she waggles her eyebrows—“might be worth a little investigation.”

  I laugh. How can I not? But come on. Time to get real. “Sunny. Stop. Really. You guys will leave, and we’ll keep ourselves to ourselves.”

  She inhales. “What will you do if he feels differently?”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I mean, what if he doesn’t want to keep to himself? If he makes a move, what will you do?”

  I shake my head. “Nothing. He won’t.”

  I pull my arm out of hers and look toward the truck. Caleb and Ainsley are already there, talking and laughing. Not surprising, since Ainsley is my most hilarious friend. But I can’t help but notice the funny feeling in my stomach, watching them together. I’ve felt it before, and I know it’s me being jealous. I can’t go back to being that girl, in love with a boy who doesn’t want anything to do with me, watching him lavish attention on other girls. “Nothing will happen,” I repeat to my friend. “Don’t worry.”

  We walk together a few paces, both of us staring straight into the bare, muscled, sun-kissed back of Caleb.

  “Oh, I’m gonna worry,” Sunny says, sounding like she’s very far away. “That boy is too fine for anyone’s good.”

  I sputter out a laugh, but I keep watching him, glistening and tan, his wide shoulders also with a hint of pink. His thighs thick, and his calves toned, his arms—I can still feel them wrapped around me on that waterslide.

  Still, I tell myself again that Sunny has nothing to worry about. He won’t make a move—but honestly, if he does, I’m pretty sure I’m doomed.

  Chapter Eleven

  Caleb

  When we get back to the truck, Ainsley makes a big deal of slipping into the backseat with Sunny, leaving Catie to sit up front with me.

  I got nothing against Catie’s two best friends, but I’m not sad they’re leaving in the morning. Ainsley especially. It’s not that I don’t like her, but the way she’s pushing me and Catie together is getting old. She doesn’t know us. She doesn’t know our history. She needs to step back.

  I also figure she was behind those visitors this morning, and I’m still pissed about finding strangers in my living room, even if I ended up with half a dozen of the world’s greatest donuts.

  On the plus side, the Fun Spot waterslide, as usual, did not disappoint. Except for that one moment of poor judgment when I shared a mat with Catie. Hey, though, it could have happened with any number of cute girls. The point is we had a good time.

  We stop at the Big Store on the way home. The place is huge, so big you could get lost looking through all the stuff: hats, and fishing gear, flags, kites, wind chimes, hardware, and shell art. We spend some time walking through it all, but mostly we’re there for snacks.

  Since its Ainsley and Sunny’s last night, the three of them are planning a movie and spa night, and they invite me.

  “I don’t want my nails painted,” I say, staring directly at Catie, who has always been such a girl, and when we were really small, used to beg me to play with dolls and tea sets and all that nonsense.

  “Oh, come on, Caleb,” she says. “I thought you were a bigger man than that.”

  She picks up a hat to try on, but I freeze where I stand next to her and wonder if that comment had a double meaning, based on our slide ride. No smirk or sideways glance from her, and when I look at Ainsley and Sunny, both of them are also trying on hats—none of them missing a beat. Good. Hopefully no one noticed.

  Over in the grocery section is where we do most of our damage. Chips, candy, frozen pizzas, and soda—the four basic food groups of the teenage diet unless that teen is about to start playing lacrosse for a college that is giving him all the money he needs to go there.

  I tell myself not to think about that, because tonight I’m feeling the need to let loose a little. Not toenails-painted loose, but hell, maybe the tropical coconut facemask that Catie just tossed in the cart for me will do.

  By the time we get home, our sunburns are coming out, and we’re tired and hungry again. After we get cleaned up, we meet up in the kitchen to gather the snacks and head to the media room at the back of the house. It’s dark and cool and comfortable, with three sofas set up in a U shape, facing the massive screen. This room was a big deal during the rebuild—Catie’s mom and my mom both insisted that th
ere be somewhere quiet for us kids to watch TV after a long day in the sun. I’ve watched a lot of movies in here with Catie.

  We all find a spot, Ainsley maneuvering again so that Catie has to share a sofa with me. Girl is not subtle at all, but I don’t really care. One thing Catie and I have always had in common is a love of Pringles, a tube of which I am clutching in my hand. Sitting together will just make it easier to share.

  Sunny has the remote and chooses a movie that they all agree to. The Proposal, it’s called. I’ve never seen it, but it’s got all the earmarks of a chick flick. I know I’m in the minority here, which is why I grabbed my laptop on the way in. Doesn’t matter anyway. After a long day in the sun, it only takes about twenty minutes before they’re all dozing.

  Not me. This morning I sent an email to that professor from the beach, thanking him for taking the time to talk to me. He responded by sending me some links for this thing they call the “Ike Dike.” That’s the system they’re trying to build to protect the shoreline and the shipping channel into Houston from another storm surge. Apparently, it’s gonna cost millions, but it could save billions if and when another major hurricane hits.

  I go through all the links and pore over the information. It’s weird. Not boring at all. I think of the basic business classes I’ve taken so far—in high school—which I was good at, but were so damn boring. This stuff I’m actually interested in. I want to know more.

  What would it be like to go to school and study something that I really cared about?

  “Whatcha lookin’ at?” Catie murmurs. She’s curled up in the corner of the same sofa as me, head down on the cushion, half-empty Pringles can against her arm and a tired smile on her face. I try to remain expressionless. I don’t want to send her any mixed signals. Man, though. I chuckle. I can’t help it.

  “What’s funny?” she asks.

  Nothing is funny. You’re beautiful. I point to her head. “Crazy hair.” It’s a lie. Her hair looks perfect.

  She scowls and rakes her fingers through the wild blond mane.

  “That’s a little better,” I say, wondering what would happen if I was honest with her.

  “I’m so glad you approve,” she says, keeping her voice low. “So?”

  “What?”

  “What are you looking at?” Her eyebrows twitch upward. “Or is it naughty?”

  I roll my eyes, still hoping she didn’t notice my problem at the waterslide and wondering if now she thinks I’m a horny perv watching porn on my laptop.

  “No. It’s not. It’s this website about the Ike Dike.”

  “Excuse me?”

  I sit up and swivel the laptop toward her.

  “That’s what they’re calling this structure they want to build along Galveston and along Bolivar and into the bay and channel. It’s supposed to help protect from storm surge.”

  She leans sideways to look but still can’t see, so she scoots right up next to me. It throws me for a second, her closeness. I have to do some very quiet deep breathing to relax.

  “That’s cool,” she says, reading it over.

  “Yeah. It is.” I inch away from her a little because I can’t relax. I need to put some space between us.

  “You interested in that stuff?” she asks.

  I pause. “Yeah. I think I am.”

  “Hmm.” She pushes out her bottom lip and narrows her eyes.

  “Yeah,” I say, lowering the laptop screen. I smile wryly. “It’s not sports—and it’s not business.”

  She laughs. “No. No, it is not.”

  We stare at each other for what feels like a long time. The movie is still playing in the background. It’s like she’s daring me to tell her my secret, but I don’t know what to say, and she’s not known for her patience.

  “Is that what you’re here figuring out?”

  My eyes move to the laptop and then back to her. I shake my head once, twice. “No.” I shake my head one more time. “No.”

  “You sure about that?”

  I huff out a breath. Maybe if I keep saying this enough, I’ll believe it. “No. Yes. I’m sure. Lacrosse. Full scholarship. It’s gonna be an Olympic sport, you know, maybe by 2028.”

  “Right. Your dad always said you were gonna be in the Olympics.”

  Yeah, he always did.

  “Okay, then.” She smiles. “You really do have it all figured out. That’s good.”

  I breathe deep and move the laptop to the coffee table where I have my feet propped up. I can’t help but think the old Catie wouldn’t have stopped there. “Yeah.”

  “Yeah,” she echoes.

  “What about you? My mom told me you’re gonna be valedictorian.”

  She purses her lips in the most adorable way that I should not be noticing. “Yes, but you know, it’s a long year. Anything can happen.”

  “To you? No way. You have always had your whole life planned out, and everything goes your way. Always.”

  She sniffs. “If only that were true.” Sunny stirs on the next sofa. Ainsley is snoring lightly on the far sofa. On the screen, Sandra Bullock is taking a shower and Ryan Reynolds comes in and takes off all of his clothes to take a shower and…this catches my eye.

  “Haven’t you seen this movie?” she asks as I stare at the screen.

  “Why would I have seen this movie?” I reply in all seriousness.

  She stares at me hard and shakes her head like she’s ashamed of me. “Because everyone has seen this movie. I bet your mama loves it.” She watches as Ryan and Sandra are somehow both naked and wet and they run into each other and fall on the floor.

  “What the… How’s that supposed to be realistic?”

  She grabs the pillow behind her and swats me with it. “You can’t just watch this one part. You have zero context.”

  I grab the pillow and stuff it behind me. Girl doesn’t need any weapons. “Oh, I’ve got context. That’s what you want? A naked Ryan Reynolds on top of you?”

  “Um…” She hits me with a crooked grin. “I would certainly not turn down that offer.”

  “Ahh,” I say, rolling my eyes but thinking how nice it is, being with her like this.

  “Hey. What’s going on over there?” Ainsley is awake. Great. “You two look cozy.”

  Catie’s eyes meet mine once more. She stands up and whips another pillow at her friend, who squeals.

  “Shut up, Ainsley,” she says and walks out of the room.

  “I’m kidding,” she calls after Catie. “Where are you going?”

  “No one thinks it’s funny,” I say, flipping open the laptop again.

  She wisely says nothing else, and Catie comes back a few minutes later with a few bowls of popcorn, handing one to Ainsley, who mumbles a “sorry” and thanks her, and one to me. Sunny is still passed out. Mo follows Catie back in, and he jumps up with her on the far corner of the sofa, because of course she’s not going to sit down next to me.

  We watch the rest of the movie, and though it’s not my thing, it’s not bad. There are some funny moments with Betty White, and the guy who plays Oscar in The Office, and Ryan and Sandra end up together in the end, which is what has to happen in these movies. It’s like the law.

  Not in real life. In real life, the bossy, know-it-all girl who is all business goes her way.

  And I go mine.

  I shoot up in bed in the middle of the night. I had lots of dreams about waterslides and tacos and Ryan Reynolds, buck naked. It takes a second to get my bearings, and then I remember. I’m at the beach house with Catie and her friends—it was a good day—waterpark, movie. Later we ate dinner out on the deck, went for a swim as the sun set, sat around the firepit, and then we all came inside and crashed.

  By the end of the day I was no closer to figuring out my life, but I figured out some other things. Like how Catie Dixon talks with her hands, a lot, so much that I almost got smacked in the face when she tried to convince me that the plot of that movie was genius. I’m still not sure about that, but I probably would’
ve gotten a black eye if I’d argued with her, the way she was flinging those hands around.

  Also, when she listens to people, she gets this look in her eye, that same laser focus, and you get the feeling that she’s really hearing you. I’ve seen that look plenty of times when we were growing up, and it used to annoy the crap out of me, like she was listening too hard, too close.

  Why did that annoy me so much? Hanging out with her tonight, I couldn’t come up with one legit reason to have run from her all these years. Because she asked me too many questions? Because she cared? That was really dumb of me.

  My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I rub at my eyes then grab it. I’m confused. It’s almost three in the morning and someone’s calling me. It’s a number I don’t recognize.

  “Hello?” I pick up.

  “Caleb?”

  “Who’s this?”

  “Caleb, Caleb, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Ainsley? What? What is it?”

  “We’re down the beach, at a party. Caleb, I can’t find Catie.”

  I jump up, out of bed, feet on the floor, pulling on my board shorts. “What do you mean you can’t find her?”

  “I just can’t. She came with me to this party so I could say goodbye to Josh, because we don’t go anywhere alone. It’s a rule. Now I can’t find her. There are so many people here, and I don’t know where she is.”

  “Did you call her?”

  She’s out of breath, and her voice is shaking. “Caleb, she’s not picking up. She’s not answering my texts. It’s been almost an hour. I don’t know where she is.”

  “Where are you?” I pick up a T-shirt off the floor and pull it over my head. Mo lets out a sharp bark like he knows there’s trouble.

  “We’re in Emerald Shores. On the beach.”

  I run downstairs and hunt around the kitchen counter for the golf cart keys. “Okay, I’m coming. Did you check the bathrooms? Did you check by the water? I’ll be there in a few minutes. Dammit I can’t find the keys.”

  “We took the golf cart.”

  “You did what?” I don’t wait for her to respond. She’s crying, and I don’t care. I tell Mo to stay, and I run down the stairs and onto the beach as fast as I can. Emerald Shores is two communities north of us, but it’ll be quicker to run than to get the truck out to the main road and over there.