actually see love, can you? But you've felt love in your life," I nearly plead. It's so important to me that Jason gets all of this. I'm determined to make a believer out of him. "Love isn't tangible, except in things like a kiss, or holding hands, or like my dad doing the dishes so my mom doesn't have to."
Jason tilts his head back against the car's headrest and closes his eyes. "You're right. I get what you're saying."
Feeling cheeky, I say, "Then you believe in ghosts?"
"Nah."
"Spirits?"
"Nope."
"Not even angels?"
He shakes his head. "No way."
I smile at him in the dim light. "Then how do you explain me?"
Jason laughs so hard, the Jeep nearly shakes. "Ahhh ... a technicality."
He leans in, so close that I can feel his warm breath on my face. I love it when he makes his move like this. I know what's coming next. Sure enough, his lips touch mine, and the familiar electrical current surges through me, igniting my insides and making my heart skip a beat. I don't care what happens in the future or who I eventually end up with when I'm eighty and rocking on the porch; I will never forget Jason Tillson's kisses. The boy's got talent.
I dissolve into his arms and put my free hand on his shoulder, pulling him closer to me as he deepens the kiss. There's nothing as secure as having Jason's arms around me, protecting me in a way that no one else can. Not that I need protecting. It's just good to know he's here if and when I need him.
Jason ends the long kiss and then feathers lighter ones on my cheek, eyelid, and forehead, like he's truly worshiping me. It's ... un-freaking-believable. And it wipes out all—well, most, anyway—of the apprehension and anxiety over what tomorrow will bring.
As if he's psychic himself, Jason lifts my chin with his finger and asks, "You're thinking about your appointment in the morning, aren't you?"
I shrug innocently, not wanting to ruin our moment. It's not often that Emily gives me alone time with Jason, so I definitely want to take advantage of it.
"You don't have anything to worry about," he says. "At least your mom lived up to her end of the bargain, taking you to a doctor familiar with kids who have gifts like yours."
"This coming from the eternal skeptic."
"I'm not skeptical about you, Kendall. Just the whole existence of spirits and what have you. I still need to see things for myself. It doesn't mean that I don't believe you see things."
I let out a long sigh and relax into the bucket seat. "Now you sound like Mom."
He tugs me back to him. "I'm only saying that this doctor is open-minded."
Yeah, maybe so. "It still means he's going to be checking for all the signs of crazy and wack."
Our fingers find each other again. "You want me to come with you?" he asks. "I was gonna play basketball with Roachie, but I can come to Atlanta instead."
I lay my head on his shoulder and smile. "You're the sweetest, Jason. I've got to do this on my own though. Besides, I need the time with Mom so she can really listen to the doctor and to me and understand that what's happening inside me is not something psychotic or evil."
Jason touches his forehead to mine. "I'm proud of you, Kendall." Then he kisses me again. Like the kind from the movies, when the music swells, crescendoing to a magical height until it bursts into fireworks and the moon begins to sing. (Okay, so I've watched Moulin Rouge one too many times.)
"Thanks, Jase," I mutter between kisses.
"And, I ... you know."
"Know what?"
His blue eyes shimmer. "You know. I love you, Kendall."
I bolt upright. "You do? Whoa!"
He laughs at me, and I can see his face is red from ear to ear. Holy craptastic! Jason Tillson just told me he loves me!
"I love you too, Jason," I say, bringing his sexy self to me again.
"I believe in love 'cause I can see it. I'm looking at it right now, Kendall," he says before kissing me again.
After we make out for a while—nothing too porno—I finally gather my wits about me and break apart from him, promising to call him when I get back into town. I float into the house, past Dad, who waves from the den where he's watching David Letterman, and collapse face-down into the fluffy quilt of my bed. It's hard to put into words the