“They’re gross, too,” I answer, and I start telling him about the bump ’n’ grab.
“That is gross,” he says, “but it’s not all the guys, right? I mean, I’ve found a few guys who aren’t complete assholes. Like the guys who hang out in the quad before class. They talk about obscure baseball stats and I literally don’t get anything they’re saying, but they’re not dicks anyway.”
“Yeah, but those guys might as well not even exist at East Rockport,” I answer, curling up into a tight ball as a brisk wind pushes past us. “Mitchell Wilson, Jason Garza, those dudes. They’re the ones who matter. They, like, set the tone.”
“So that’s why you started Moxie.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I guess that’s why I did it. It felt like a way to fight back but quietly. The only way I knew how to.”
“Well,” Seth says, “just remember that not all guys are like Mitchell Wilson. Not all guys are dicks.”
I nod, but I feel prickly. My mouth slips into a little frown.
“Hey.” Seth nudges me. “You okay?”
I look at him. He’s amazing, but he isn’t a girl. I take a deep breath. “I know all guys aren’t dicks,” I tell him. “I get it. But the thing is, when there are so many dickish dudes around you, it gets hard to remember that, you know?”
Seth nods slowly, like he’s chewing over the words.
“Yeah,” he says finally, “I hear you.”
“But you’re not a dick,” I say in a rush.
He looks at me and smiles broadly, stretching out his arms wide. “Thank you! I gladly accept the honor of not-a-dick.” Suddenly, he pops off the picnic bench and races a few feet in front of me into the sand. “Ladies and gentlemen of East Rockport, I’d like to accept this Not-A-Dick Award on behalf of all the guys out there who recognize it’s gross as hell to do the bump ’n’ grab,” he shouts. “I’d like to thank my mother for raising me with the knowledge that she would disown me if I ever did something like that, and I’d like to thank my dad for backing her up.”
He does a couple of bows as I applaud furiously before calling out, “You’d better hurry up, the orchestra is playing you off the stage.”
“Just one more thank you,” Seth says, like he’s trying to fight off some imaginary awards show host pulling him into the wings. “I’d like to thank Vivian Carter for being such a cool girl and agreeing to go out with me, taking a chance that I might be not-a-dick in a town full of actual-dicks.”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” I say, waving my hands in front of me, my face full of false modesty. “Honestly, no need to thank little old me.” I’m laughing now, and hard, too.
Seth races up to me, and in the moonlight and the fluorescent lights of the nearby Holiday Inn, I can see his cheeks are red. He’s breathing more quickly. He’s looking at me in a way he hasn’t all night. It’s the look Meemaw started warning me about in the seventh grade.
A look that’s full of Want.
“Hey.” He takes my hand in his, his voice all husky. “Come on.” He tugs at me, and I stand up and we head back to his Honda, and I’m not sure if I can make it there without passing out. We slide into the front seats and just after we slam the doors shut, Seth turns to me and says, “Vivian, I want to kiss you.”
The small part of my brain that’s left to process anything briefly realizes that I always thought my first kiss would happen standing up. But we’re in a car, which for some reason seems more grown up.
“So…,” Seth asks, leaning in, his dark eyes looking right at me. “Can I kiss you?” His voice is soft, which makes everything he’s saying sound dreamier and sweeter, if that’s possible. I am memorizing his words. I am already playing them over and over in my mind.
“Yeah,” I answer, my heart flooding. My face numb.
And Seth leans in. His hand slides up and around the back of my neck and his mouth is on mine and at first I can’t help but think about the mechanics of it. Like the sense of his tongue against my tongue, soft and gentle and alive. Like the subtle pop! of our lips pulling apart before they go back together again almost immediately.
But it takes just a few milliseconds before those thoughts escape me and I’m kissing Seth Acosta and how do any two people who like each other not just kiss constantly? How do you do this and stop? Ever?
So the answer is we don’t stop. Not right away, anyway. There in that Honda on the first night of winter break in the parking lot of the East Rockport public beach, Seth Acosta and I kiss and we kiss and keep kissing.
*
Lucy sends me texts full of explosions and firecrackers and little yellow heads with eyeballs bugging out.
Sara writes one long OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Meg demands every detail including the color of Seth’s car (like that matters).
Kaitlyn sends a selfie of herself screaming in joy.
But Claudia?
Nothing.
A full two hours after I get home from my date with Seth, my oldest best friend in the entire universe sends nothing in response to my gushing, excited texts. I eventually call her, but it goes straight to the freaky lady’s voice telling me that the number is unavailable.
At midnight I give up, tossing my phone to the side. I sink deep under the covers, replaying all the kissing in my mind—in the car at the beach, and on the drive home when we kissed at the stoplights, and when Seth walked me to the front door and we kissed standing up. But at the back of my skull is a little voice that wonders where Claudia is or if she might be mad at me for some reason.
I can’t figure it out. This isn’t Moxie stuff, which has been what’s seemed to irritate her lately. It has nothing to do with Lucy. And she was happy for me the first time Seth and I hung out and just as happy when I told her Seth and I had plans for Friday night.
Then I realize that Friday after school I never saw Claudia after lunch. I was too tripped up with my own giddiness over my upcoming night with Seth.
I reach around in the darkness until I find my phone on the floor.
Just let me know you’re okay … I’m scared something’s wrong … sorry I blabbed on about myself so much
I wait and wait and nothing, and finally I fall asleep with my phone in my bed, my mind alternating between thoughts of kissing Seth and worrying about Claudia.
And then, before I know it, I feel a hand on my shoulder, gently shaking me awake.
“Vivvy, hey. Viv.”
I blink, trying to sense what’s going on. Sun is streaming in through the blinds.
“Am I late for school?”
I realize my mom is next to me, seated on the edge of my bed.
“No, sweetie, it’s Saturday. It’s Christmas break.”
I rub my eyes, trying to wake up. “Oh, yeah.”