My Life With the Walter Boys

“Someone is coming to get us,” he said.

 

I nodded, looking out over a grassy clearing. “What is this place?” I asked.

 

There was a boarded-up concessions stand, and beyond the structure was a grassy meadow with a large section that was flat and brown. It looked like a dried-up pond.

 

“It used to be an outdoor ice-skating rink during the winter months,” Alex said, following my gaze out to what must have been the ice patch. Alex took one of my hands and rubbed my skin gently with his thumb. “Ever been skating before?”

 

It was a harmless question, yet I still felt a sudden jab at my heart.

 

“Yeah,” I said slowly. “My family had this tradition where we’d go to the rink at Rockefeller Center on my mom’s birthday. I don’t remember how it started since my mom wasn’t very good, but we did it every year.”

 

Alex wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

 

“I’m fine,” I told him, resting my head on his shoulder. “It’s one of those nice memories. You know, the kind that makes you sad but you smile at the same time?”

 

I could almost picture my family gliding across the patch of dried-up grass as I stared out at the meadow, and the memory was so captivating that it took me a minute to realize that Alex hadn’t answered me. When I turned to look at him, I found that his eyes were already locked on me.

 

The first time Alex kissed me, it was so unexpected that it made my stomach jump in excitement. At the time, I hadn’t known what to think because there was so much adrenaline soaring through me. This time as his eyes fluttered closed and he leaned in, I knew what was about to happen and I could feel the steady beat of my heart.

 

Everything about the way he kissed reminded me specifically of him. First it was a slow, barely there kiss, so if I rejected him he could pull away and pretend it never happened. But then, when he realized that I was in fact kissing him back, it was excited and sporadic. His hands never stayed in one spot. First they would be in my hair, then grasping my arms, and finally moving to my waist before the whole procedure would start over again. It was a little wet, but I didn’t think it was slobbery enough to call it sloppy. At the same time, I didn’t have much to compare it to, so for all I knew, Alex could have been a great kisser.

 

As weird as it sounded, he reminded me of a puppy. Puppies are good, right? Everyone likes puppies. And just like a dog, he had boundless make-out energy. I needed a breath, to stop and surface, but Alex was pushing me down onto the picnic table.

 

Just as I was running out of air, a car horn honked from out in the rain and Alex quickly jumped back. Standing up, I tugged down my shirt, which had ridden up while we were kissing, and smoothed out the wrinkles. Alex shot me a cheeky grin before grabbing my hand and pulling me to the edge of the pavilion.

 

“We can finish this later,” he whispered before stepping out into the rain to grab his bike.

 

To shield myself from the downpour, I lifted my arms over my head and sprinted to the truck. When I reached the passenger-side door, I yanked on the handle, but it was locked.

 

“Open up!” I shouted over the rain, pounding my fist against the window. It was coming down so heavily now that I couldn’t even see who was inside. I heard the distinct click of the lock and threw myself into the truck a second later. “God, it’s nasty out there,” I said, patting down my hair. My shirt clung to my skin, and I could feel the crumbs of someone’s morning Pop-Tart sticking to the back of my leg as I sat back.

 

Nobody answered, and I turned in my seat to find Cole behind the wheel. He was glaring out the windshield so fiercely that I was afraid he would burn a hole through the glass and the storm outside would pour in.

 

“You okay?” I asked, but there was a sinking feeling in my stomach. When he said nothing, I knew he had seen Alex and me making out.

 

I waited in awkward silence as Alex threw his bike in the bed of the truck. The air-conditioning hummed softly, drying my damp skin and leaving behind a trail of goose bumps. I could feel the anger pouring off Cole, so I forced myself to concentrate on the radio, repeating the string of lyrics in my head. But he was impossible to ignore, and I found myself wishing I had sat in the backseat. Finally, after three uncomfortable verses, Alex climbed in the back and Cole stepped on the gas, reversing down the gravel path at full speed.

 

“Whoa!” Alex shouted as he was thrown backward before being able to buckle his seat belt or even breathe. The truck took a sharp left, back onto the main road, and Alex was thrown into the window. “What the hell?”

 

“Cole, slow down,” I said quietly.