Breckin is still standing, holding both coffees with an incredibly confused look on his face. I reach out and grab one of the cups. “Congratulations, squire. You are the queen’s chosen one today. Sit. It’s been quite the weekend.”
Breckin slowly takes his seat and sets his coffee on his desk, then pulls his backpack off his shoulder, eyeing me suspiciously the whole time. Holder is seated sideways in his desk, staring at me. I gesture my hand toward Holder. “Breckin, this is Holder. Holder is not my boyfriend, but if I catch him trying to break the record for best first kiss with another girl, then he’ll soon be my not breathing non-boyfriend.”
Holder arches an eyebrow at me and a hint of a smile plays in the corner of his mouth. “Likewise.” His dimples are taunting me and I have to force myself to look directly into his eyes or I might be compelled to do something that would be grounds for suspension.
I gesture a hand toward Breckin. “Holder, this is Breckin. Breckin is my new very bestest friend ever in the whole wide world.”
Breckin eyes Holder and Holder smiles at him, then reaches out to shake his hand. Breckin tentatively shakes Holder’s hand in return, then pulls it back and turns to me, narrowing his eyes. “Does not-your-boyfriend realize I’m Mormon?”
I nod. “It turns out, Holder doesn’t have an issue with Mormons at all. He just has an issue with assholes.”
Breckin laughs and turns back to Holder. “Well, in that case, welcome to the alliance.”
Holder gives him a half smile, but he’s staring at the coffee cup on Breckin’s desk. “I thought Mormon’s weren’t allowed to have caffeine.”
Breckin shrugs. “I decided to break that rule the morning I woke up gay.”
Holder laughs and Breckin smiles and everything is right with the world. Or at least in the world of first period. I lean back in my chair and smile. This won’t be hard at all. In fact, I think I just started loving public school.
Holder follows me to my locker after class. We don’t speak. I switch my books while he rips more insults off my locker. There were only two sticky notes after class today, which makes me a little sad. They’re giving up so easily and it’s only the second week of school.
He wads the notes up and flicks them on the floor and I shut my locker, then turn toward him. We’re both leaning against the lockers, facing each other.
“You trimmed your hair,” I say, noticing it for the first time.
He runs his hand through it and grins. “Yeah. This chick I know couldn’t stop whining about it. It was really annoying.”
“I like it.”
He smiles. “Good.”
I purse my lips together and rock back and forth on my heels. He’s grinning at me and he looks adorable. If we weren’t in a hallway right now full of people, I’d grab his shirt and pull him to me so I could show him just how adorable I think he looks. Instead, I push the images away and smile back at him. “I guess we should get to class.”
He nods slowly. “Yep,” he says, without walking away.
We stand there for another thirty seconds or so before I laugh and kick off the locker, then start to walk away. He grabs my arm and pulls me back so quickly, I gasp. Before I know it, my back is against the locker and he’s standing in front of me, blocking me in with his arms. He shoots me a devilish grin, then tilts my face up to his. He brings his right hand to my cheek and slides it under my jaw, cupping my face. He delicately strokes both of my lips with his thumb and I have to remind myself again that we’re in public and I can’t act on my impulses right now. I press myself against the lockers behind me, trying to use the sturdiness of them to make up for the support my knees are no longer providing.
“I wish I would have kissed you Saturday night,” he says. He drops his eyes to my lips where his thumb is still stroking them. “I can’t stop imagining what you taste like.” He presses his thumb firmly against the center of my lips, then very briefly connects his mouth to mine without moving his thumb out of the way. His lips are gone and his thumb is gone and it happens so fast, I don’t even realize he’s gone until the hallway stops spinning and I’m able to stand up straight.
I don’t know how much longer I can take this. I’m reminded of my nervous rant on Saturday night, when I wanted him to just get it over with and kiss me in the kitchen. I had absolutely no idea what I would be in for.
“How?”
It’s just one word, but as soon as I lay my tray down across from Breckin, I know exactly what all that word encompasses. I laugh and decide to spill all the details before Holder shows up at our table. If he shows up at our table. Not only have we not discussed relationship labels, we also haven’t discussed lunchroom seating arrangements.
“He showed up at my house on Friday and after quite a few misunderstandings, we finally came to an understanding that we just misunderstood each other. Then we baked, I read him some smut and he went home. He came back over Saturday night and cooked for me. Then we went to my room and…”
I stop talking when Holder takes a seat beside me.
“Keep going,” Holder says. “I’d love to hear what we did next.”
I roll my eyes and turn back to Breckin. “Then we broke the record for best first kiss in the history of first kisses without even kissing.”
Breckin nods carefully, still looking at me with eyes full of scepticism. Or curiosity. “Impressive.”
“It was an excruciatingly boring weekend,” Holder says to Breckin.
I laugh, but Breckin looks at me like I’m crazy again. “Holder loves boring,” I assure him. “He means that in a nice way.”
Breckin looks back and forth between the two of us, then shakes his head and leans forward, picking up his fork. “Not much confuses me,” he says, pointing his fork at us. “But you two are an exception.”