Zayden buys the kids whatever treats they want from the food court and then sets 'em loose on the playground as we take a seat on one of the benches. I haven't been here since I got back in town and wow, it brings some old memories crashing to the forefront of my mind.
“The first boy I ever kissed, I kissed right here,” I tell Zay, pointing at the hideous faux granite linoleum beneath our feet. It hasn't changed at all in the last ten years. The only thing that's different about this place are the stores. When I was younger, there used to be an interesting mix of local shops. Now, one whole wing of the mall is empty, advertising storefronts for rent, and the rest of it's been turned into outward facing big box stores like Petco and Kohl's.
Kind of depressing.
“For real?” Zayden says, turning to look at me with his pretzel clutched in one hand. His hair looks extra perfect today, spiked up on one side into a Mohawk, the other shaved with fresh stars. He's even put on the tiniest smidge of liner and changed out his piercings. They're all black today, all matching. His lip piercings are actual rings today instead of the studs he's been wearing since he got here. So hot. I want to grab 'em with my teeth and pull. Kind of like I did with the piercings in his cock.
I choke and glance away, back towards the kids, watching as Kinzie and Bella chase each other up the faux rock wall.
“Right on this very bench?” Zayden asks with a playful lilt to his voice. I glance back at him just in time for Zay to lean forward and press his mouth to mine. His tongue flicks out hard and fast and I'm left sitting there with the faint taste of cinnamon on my lips. “I'm giving you new memories,” he explains as I shake my head with a laugh.
“Not on this exact bench,” I say with a roll of my eyes. “Just here, in the mall. Where'd you have your first kiss?”
“Mmm,” Zayden leans his head back and stares up at the skylights in the ceiling. I use the term skylights loosely because there's definitely not much light leaking through the glass; it's gray and dark and stormy as hell. “With my friend's older sister, in the bathroom of her church during a youth group meeting.”
I raise my slightly sore brow as Zayden lifts his head back up and grins at me again.
“Youth group, huh?” I ask as he takes a massive bite of his pretzel and nods at me.
“Yep. That's me. Always challenging the institution.” Zayden taps his green and black Dr. Martens on the floor with a steady rhythm. I am so in love with his fashion choices. Today, his shoes are this matte black color with a neon green skeleton foot on the side. Oh. And he's wearing black suspenders that aren't holding anything up. They're just hooked to his pants and then looped back around and reconnected to the waistband. “Did you know I was in a punk band in high school?”
“Does not surprise me,” I say as I cross my arms over my own sad attempt at dressing up. I've got on a navy blue shirt with the world Cal scrawled across the front in gold that I got from UCB, a pair of dark skinny jeans and some fuzzy black velvet heels that I found in my sister's closet. I know, I know: I'm a total mess. I think I'm still trying to figure out exactly who it is that I am. I think all my clothes are doing is reflecting the confusion inside. Or something like that. “What instrument did you play?”
“Instrument? Please, Smarty-Pants, you give me too much credit. I just screamed shit into the microphone. That is pretty much it. I would hardly even call it music.”
“Well maybe you could play some for me one day?” I say as Zayden finishes off his pretzel and wads the trash up, tossing it like a basketball into the nearest can.
“Yeah right. You already think I'm a nerd now. How much less cool would I be if I played the guttural garbage I used to spew as a kid? No, thank you.”
“Being in a punk band totally makes you cool,” I say as Zayden tucks one leg up on the bench and gives me a look.
“Being in a good punk band totally makes you cool. Being in a garage band with music recorded on some guy's phone back in the day. So not cool.”
Zayden glances out toward the kids and I follow his stare, happening to catch some little kid rush up to Grace and grab hold of her pigtails as she runs. With a hard yank, my niece's head snaps back and she ends up slipping and falling to the foam floor with a scream. Before I can even react to the situation, Zayden is up on his feet and sprinting over to her.
I grab Sadie's stroller and chase after him as quickly as I can.
“Hey, hey,” he says as he uses his thumbs to brush away her tears. “You're okay, baby.”
“No, I'm not!” Grace screams, clinging to his leg and ignoring me completely when I try to comfort her by rubbing her back.
“Do you need surgery then?” Zayden asks, looking her in the eyes and getting completely serious. “Because we can go to the hospital right now.”
Grace's eyes get huge and she shakes her head, reigning back the screaming sobs into gentle sniffles.