Stuck With You (First Kiss Hypothesis)

by Christina Mandelski

  Here you go again, Catie. First date. First date. For once in your life, stop thinking about what happens next and just be—be like Caleb, who is always, well usually, in the moment, and doesn’t think so much into the future.

  Except I know for a fact that now he is thinking about his future. That professor last night, suggesting that Caleb maybe go to his school and become some sort of environmental engineer, and Caleb pretending like he wasn’t interested? I saw through that. He wants more. That was low-key shocking, mostly because Caleb’s always been so easygoing. Like the sports thing. That’s just always been his plan—since forever—to play sports. But now that I think of it, I wonder if that plan just got thrust at him, and he went along with it because he didn’t have a better idea.

  I relate.

  If his parents want him to go to school in Florida and major in whatever, he’ll do it because he’s Caleb. But I could tell he was listening closely to Professor Jackson, and he never did give him a definite no.

  When I go downstairs, there’s a bowl and spoon out on the counter with a box of Lucky Charms next to it. Right beside it is a note, written in what looks like orange highlighter marker.

  Assume you still like Lucky Charms? Pick you up at noon for the big date.

  He drew a winky-faced emoji and signed his name, and I’m glad that no one is around, because I’m sure the grin on my face is the goofiest ever. He remembered the Lucky Charms, which my mother never ever let me eat due to the fact that she is a health-food nut, and which I only ever ate during beach vacations, because Caleb’s mother would always buy them at the Big Store for the beach house.

  The warmth inside me radiates from my skin. I fold the note, intending to keep it, which is not like me. I’m not known to be sentimental about things like this. The fact is, though, I’ve gotten plenty of texts from boys, but I think this might be my very first love note.

  Well, I’m not sure it’s a “love” note.

  There’s that word again.

  I wonder where he went, but I guess he took Mo, who, if he were home, would be all over me by now looking for attention. I sit down and pour milk over the cereal, but I almost can’t chew because the grin is back, or maybe it never went away. Who knows? I’m in a dream, all the rough edges of the world are still there, but I’m willfully ignoring them, and everything is soft and sweet and randomly tingly.

  When I’m finished, I rinse out my bowl and head to the bedroom, where I riffle through my duffel bag for something to wear. If it were up to me, I’d keep this jersey on all day.

  Oh, man. This thought makes me cringe a little. I like to think of myself as independent. Never wanted to be one of those girls who wears the jersey and falls hard for someone (again) in a matter of days.

  Stop thinking. Find something to wear.

  I finally settle on the only real option: the last clean sundress I brought. This reminds me to hang up the one I wore last night, still damp from the rain. A thrill runs through me thinking of him, and us kissing, of his hands on me.

  It makes me believe for a brief second that maybe I can have everything—all these wants that are piling up in front of me like tempting but forbidden presents under a Christmas tree. Maybe I can actually open them and possibly even keep them.

  The whole broadcast journalism thing—my parents know I enjoy being on the news team at school, and that I’ve always had a girl crush on Christiane and a handful of other awesome women who cover the news around the world. But my parents are supremely realistic people.

  I get that me ever being on CNN is a long shot. Me behind a desk at C&C Flooring Factory? That’s a sure thing. My parents are sure-thing people, and until I actually had to start thinking about college apps, so was I.

  Then Gramps pops into my mind. He practically raised me, and Caleb, too, while our parents raised the business. How can I leave him, sick as he is?

  Then there’s Caleb, who is suddenly and ferociously back in the center of my life. But he’s leaving me, too. And, as good as it feels, I know we’re still on that line, and it’s thin, and one step to the right could mean bliss, while a step to the left could mean disaster.

  So maybe having everything is impossible.

  I shake my head and lay the dress out on my bed then head to the shower. By the time I’m done, I’ve talked myself off of the cliff again.

  This is going to be a good day. A first date with a boy—a man—I’ve known my entire life. Don’t worry. Don’t overthink. Let him take the reins, I tell myself. You don’t always have to be in control.

  I slip on the dress, so happy that I haven’t yet worn it. It’s perfect. Sexy without being too much, comfortable, and a pretty, pale yellow dotted with flowers. I blow out my hair and leave it in its natural state of soft, loose waves. I think it looks best like that, but it’s not very practical. I slip a ponytail holder on my wrist just in case. Just because I’m falling for Caleb doesn’t mean I stop being rational.

  I apply some foundation and do my eyes. Nothing super glitzy, just natural-looking me, with a boost. I admit to sometimes needing that. My blond eyelashes, for example, are long but practically translucent. Sometimes we all need a little help, or at least a pep talk.

  That’s exactly what I need. I pick up my phone and dial Sunny. I need to hear her voice.

  “Hey,” she says, sounding sleepy.

  “You still in bed?” I ask.

  “Yes. Why aren’t you? What’s going on?”

  My brain is running like a proverbial hamster on a wheel, except this hamster has ADHD and is on methamphetamines. I don’t know what to say to her.

  “Aw, yes,” she says. I can tell she’s fully awake now. “Catherine! Did you have sex with him?”

  I blow out a breath and huff. “No!” I scratch my head. “No. We didn’t. Not…” My voice trails off.

  “Not what? Not yet?” She sounds way too excited. “What happened?”

  “Sun…” I say, not expecting this kind of enthusiasm from her. “Nothing.” I pause. “Not much. I mean, not everything. But I think I like him.”

  She blows out a raspberry. “That’s not exactly news. And I told you he likes you.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So is there a problem?”

  “No.” I rub my temple. Stop overthinking. “We went out last night, and things happened. He was so sweet. And today, we’re going on a date.”

  “But?”

  “No. No buts. Except what if it’s just guilt because he used to be mean to me? Because he’s going back to Florida after all of this? He has an out. I mean, am I right to be nervous here?”

  Sunny laughs.

  “What?” I ask. “What’s so funny?”

  “You. And your overthinking. Look, all of that could be true, but I’m guessing it’s not.”

  “But what if it is?”

  I can hear her take a deep breath. “Listen. You are the queen of the Lockhart High School broadcast news. Put him on the hot seat. Ask him.”

  “How?”

  “You say, ‘Caleb, what are your intentions?’ Simple as that.”

  “That’s what my grandpa would ask him.”

  “Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to channel a little of Gramps right now. You know how he doesn’t hold anything back?”

  I know. I know that very well. “Yes.”

  “Do that,” she says. I hear a noise from the main room. A few seconds later, I hear the jingle of Mo’s collar as he runs up to greet me, and I know that Caleb won’t be far behind. That powerful jolt of electricity runs through me, just thinking of seeing him, of touching him, and kissing him again. I’ve never been this excited about anything.

  Is this real? It’s an excellent question.

  “Catie?”

  “Yes?”

  “Just don’t analyze it to death.”

  “Okay,” I say to my friend who knows me so well. “Sunny, I really, really like him.”

  “Yes, I know,” she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “Then yo
u should go for it.”

  Seconds later, Caleb appears over my shoulder in the bathroom mirror, wearing an old T-shirt, his too-long hair messy, blue eyes shining, tanned skin glowing. He looks he belongs at the beach. His mouth quirks up on one side, and it makes me warm from the inside out.

  “Right,” I say. “I gotta go.” I hang up on Sunny, then turn around, smiling.

  “You look nice,” he says.

  My instinct is to make a beeline to him and start making out with those full lips again, but then I feel like we’ll be in the same boat as last night, and this date may never happen. I want it to happen.

  “Thank you.” I look at my phone screen. “But I still have a half hour before our date, right?” Mo pushes at my hand, begging me to pet him.

  “Yep. So I’ll see you downstairs in thirty,” he says, but before he goes, he takes a few steps toward me, leaving a gap between our bodies, leans down, and kisses me tenderly. He doesn’t keep on with it, and it’s good that he kept that distance, because I’m in a dream state again, buzzing and wanting more. Screw living in the real world. This one is better.

  “You and Mo go for a run?” I ask, noticing the sweat stains on his T-shirt.

  He walks back and leans on the door, keeping that safe distance. “No.” His mouth screws up like he’s trying to figure out how to say something. “Professor Jackson texted and asked if I wanted to join his class for an early-morning lab.”

  “Oh?” Really?

  He runs a hand through his wild hair. He is changing, maybe even right before my eyes. He’s always been clean-cut, always known what he was going to do. Reliable, chill Caleb.

  He doesn’t look chill now. But he does look happy.

  “Yeah, so I drove out to the campus,” he says. “It’s on this place called Pelican Island, not far from here.”

  A campus on an island actually sounds pretty amazing. “And did you meet up with them?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What’d you think?”

  Again with the hand through his hair. “It was all right.”

  I narrow my gaze at him. “Just all right?”

  He screws up his mouth. I know he’s searching for the right word. “It was interesting. It’s a cool place.”

  “That’s it?”

  He presses those beautiful lips together and nods. “Yep.” He pats the doorframe with an open hand. “Okay then, I’ll see you in thirty.”

  I’m not buying it. “Hey,” I say before he walks away.

  His eyebrows lift.

  “Thanks for the Lucky Charms,” I say in a terrible impersonation of Lucky the leprechaun.

  “Only at the beach, young lady,” he says in a spot-on impression of my mother. He gives me a wink before he goes, and it’s intimate and charming and makes me melt. God, I really, really like him.

  I hope he feels the same. Sunny was right. I can ask him, but not now.

  We have a date, so I’m going to follow my mother’s advice. Smell the flowers, blow out the candle, and, for now at least, just let go.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Caleb

  I almost said no to Professor Jackson’s text, but then I figured it’s early, it sounds interesting (a lab to determine the state of coastal erosion—it was interesting), and I’d be back before Catie was ready for our date.

  I’m still not changing my mind about Florida. Dad texted me a new article link last night about lacrosse becoming an Olympic sport. He’s set up a Google alert for any news on the topic. We’re getting closer, he said. He thinks I could make it—and man, who doesn’t want to be an Olympic athlete?

  I’d be stupid not to want that. Right?

  So, the question that I came here to answer has been answered.

  I’m not changing my mind. It was hard enough for Dad to wrap his head around me not going to his alma mater. It was hard on him when I quit hockey. There’s no way I’m gonna tell him that I’m skipping the Olympics to go to a rival school and learn how to protect the coast from hurricanes.

  Besides, now that I know what Catie’s thinking about Northwestern (I looked it up and I can really see her there), I want her to at least leave open the possibility. I’ve known about this Ocean Engineering program for two days. She’s had this dream for as long as I can remember—she needs to take it seriously.

  I’ll stay in lacrosse, play for as long as I can, see where that takes me, and then help run the business one day. I can do that.

  As I take a shower to get ready for our date, it hits me just how much I want Catie to be happy. I want to make her happy. And even though the campus is far away, and that would suck, if going to Northwestern and becoming a journalist is what she needs to make her happy, I’m feeling pretty damn determined to do what I can.

  I have an idea about that.

  When I get out of the shower, I hide in the master bedroom closet and dial up Gramps.

  “Hey there, Cay…Cay-leb.” It takes him a few tries to get out the name.

  “Hey, Gramps. How are you?”

  “Oh, I’m fine.” He pauses, and I’m not sure if he’s trying to get out words or what. Finally, he speaks. “What’s happening at the beach?”

  “Um. Nothing. Not really.”

  “Oh?” The thing about Gramps Dixon—he knows what’s up. You can’t pull anything over on him. “I don’t believe you.”

  “No?”

  “No,” he says, the word clear and sharp and loud. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  Obviously I don’t tell him what Catie and I did last night, but by the time I hang up, I feel like what I did tell him was the right thing to do. Catie deserves her dream. Gramps won’t hear of her not following it. There’s a good chance she might hate me if she finds out, but I’ll be in school, and I will commit to helping with the business. She won’t have to worry about that, at least.

  And now, for this date. It’s going to be a good one, too.

  If it uses the last of the money in my account, I’m going to do it right.

  It doesn’t take me long to get ready, and she comes out of her room at precisely the half-hour mark. She’s reliable, this girl. Also reliable, her ability to get me riled up in ways that I am normally mostly able to control. Not her fault—she looks so pretty in her dress with her blond hair back in a headband and sandals on her feet.

  Maybe pretty isn’t the word. Perfect is better.

  I know she’s not perfect perfect. Opinionated. Always right. Way too bossy. A know-it-all. Also cute, sexy, smart, kind, strong, determined, and a really good kisser.

  All these things mixed together, perfect is the only word I’ve got. I could kick myself for not seeing it before this. I shouldn’t have ignored her all these years. I shouldn’t have let her annoy me. I should have looked deeper than that surface aggravation, and I would have seen her for who she is. That’s what I need to remember today—sometimes you have one chance, and if you lose it, it’s gone forever. I don’t want to blow it this time.

  “You look nice,” I say.

  “You already said that,” she says.

  I pick up the single yellow rose I bought at the Big Store when I went to get the Lucky Charms this morning.

  “Thank you,” she says.

  “Cheesy?” I did have my doubts when I was buying it.

  “Cheesy isn’t always a bad thing.” She sniffs the rose and steps into my open arms. It’s like an instinct now, us together. She leans back and looks at me, and I feel that pull. Lips touch, and we kiss again. I’m determined to keep it brief, one short kiss. That’s the best way to keep this situation under control, but I swear it’s like getting a taste of something sweet that just makes you want more.

  In seconds, my tongue is doing things to her tongue again, and my hands want to roam, and dammit, I know I gotta stop this. We have plans, and they do not involve removing clothes—not here, not now—I have promised myself this. But man, this is some good kissing.

  Good, like our mouths and bodies were made to do this. We
fit together and understand each other. Now, see, I want to kiss her neck because she put on some perfume, and it smells so good, but no, I cannot.

  I pull away, trying to catch my breath.

  “Noooooo!” she whimpers.

  I laugh and take her hand. “Let’s get out of here,” I say. “First date starts now.”

  Mo whines as we say goodbye, and whines louder as I lock him in, but where we’re going, we can’t take him.

  She puts on her seat belt as I start the truck. “So, you’re going to tell me where we’re going, right?” she asks.

  Not that there’s a lot to do around here. She could probably guess, but I’m not going to give it away. “Nope,” I say and drive on, tight-lipped.

  We travel the few miles down Bolivar toward Galveston. The day is hot and sunny as usual, and I hope it won’t be too hot for her, because we’re gonna be outside for a while. I also hope that she still likes roller coasters. I didn’t want to ask, because that’d give it away, but I’m counting on the fact that she does.

  When we were little, our moms would take us to Six Flags a few times a year, and we’d ride and ride and ride. The bigger the roller coaster, the better. Honestly, I could live without roller coasters. They’re not my thing—but she loved them so much it was hard to say no when she insisted I ride with her. It was hard to say no to her, period, back then.

  I’m amazed that the longer I spend with her, the more good memories come to the surface.

  When we get to the end of the peninsula, there’s a backup of cars and only one way to go.

  “Ooh, the ferry?” She laughs and her eyes sparkle. How come I never noticed them do that before? “I haven’t ridden the ferry in forever!”

  Here is another good memory. Our parents would park the car, and she and I would run upstairs to the observation deck for the short trip to the other side. Always together, the two of us—and now I’m beating myself up again for pushing her away all this time.