last few days of summer. I remember some hide-and-seek, a little tag, and…
“You!” I fold my arms over my chest and square off with him.
He squeezes his eyes shut so tightly that wrinkles pucker around them and his mouth shrinks into a sour form. There was a backward skating competition at that party. I’d practiced for it because I knew the skating rink always gave out prizes. Good ones. It came down to two of us, me and Caleb’s cousin who was visiting from out of town. When I won, his cousin pushed me onto my ass.
And the game of tag I remember playing out in this parking lot wasn’t really tag at all, it was Caleb and his cousin playing keep away with my prize: an enormous stuffed unicorn with a rainbow mane and tail—every pop-star loving pre-teen girl’s ultimate trophy.
“You threw it on the roof!” My head slowly falls to the side while I level him with a look of scorn.
“I did.” He winces. It’s a little adorable.
“I cried!” I tighten my jaw to look strong.
He lifts his right hand and covers his eyes, spacing his fingers just enough to peek at me.
“You did.” He holds his hand in place for a few seconds, just long enough for my stern expression to give in. When it does his hands fall to his lap, then the pocket of his hoodie. He pulls out something small enough to remain hidden completely in his palm.
“Frankie Torres, please accept my apology.” His fingers unfurl to reveal a tiny stuffed unicorn keychain. The head is too big for the body, and little threads from the fur are falling off in his hand—rainbow threads. It’s cheap and corny as hell, and I love it.
I pluck it from his hand and hold it up with my fingertips, rotating it slowly as I let my eyes lose focus on the pony and find their way to the incredible green ones sitting just one sportscar console away from me.
“It matches my hair,” I say, holding it close to the tips of my hair that have fallen over my shoulder. The blue is fading out a little, and I was thinking about dying it back to match my brown, but now I might just add to it.
Hudson doesn’t speak, but his eyes glow with hope.
“I love it,” I say, hugging it close to my chest. “You’re forgiven.”
“Yes!” His whispered celebration is accompanied with a tiny fist pump, and he turns back to face the wheel, stopping just before he turns the key.
“And no, this isn’t our date. It’s just part one.” The family dimple lights up the side of his face and his eyes hover on mine for a second or two more before checking the mirrors and firing up the car. I’m glad it’s not our date, because I would hate for this to be over already.
Keeping with the theme, Hudson heads south a few more blocks to Roll and Bowl. I don’t have the heart to tell him that it’s been shuttered, but it doesn’t seem to dash his spirits when he pulls into the vacant lot. He finds an abandoned shopping cart and convinces me to get in so he can push me around like it’s a chariot, and when the basket starts to tip over on a curb, he braces my fall and scoops me into his arms like a bride. I’m not sure what I’m crushing on more, the softness of his hoodie, the faint scent of spices and honey etching its way into my memory or the vibration in his chest when he laughs as he holds me.
It’s all going so incredibly, well…kismet. And then comes another word I taught Shay during the same game: Happenstance.
I’m cradled in his arms, my hair twirling in the breeze while he swings me around in half circles that are starting to slow more and more. I’m expecting the kiss. I’m ready for it, and the only thing my eyes can focus on is the way his teeth are grazing his bottom lip with both a sense of hesitation and urgency.
“You know, my cousin’s always had a bit of a thing for you. He was kinda pissed when I told him I was taking you out today.” The lightness in his eyes tells me that he doesn’t have a clue how deep that little piece of information burrows. I’m a terrible bluffer, though, so all it takes is the slight flinch I feel touch at the