I’d never been kissed before, and at first, I was worried I was doing it wrong. I wasn’t sure about where to put my hands or how to tilt my head or what in God’s name I was supposed to do with my tongue.
But Colt seemed to know. He kept kissing me, and eventually, I picked up the rhythm and followed his lead. It was like that night we danced. It was fun and a little overwhelming and sometimes he’d take me by surprise. But that’s what made it exciting.
It was also exciting to be the one doing the surprising. When I slid my hands down and found the hem of Colt’s T-shirt, I tugged it up, wanting to pull it over his head. Colt hesitated, then laughed and sat back, letting me take it off him. He was scrawny, but when he wrapped his arms around me again, I could feel the subtle muscles in his arms and chest.
I’m not sure how we ended up lying down, twisted together on top of his bed. Or how my shirt and bra ended up on the floor. All I knew was, when Colt pulled back, broke our kiss, I felt cold and heartbroken.
But just then he was looking at me. At more of me than anyone else had seen. And I felt self-conscious. Colt Dickinson had probably seen way prettier girls naked. Skinnier girls. Tanner girls. I was round and pasty and not the kind of girl boys wanted to see shirtless.
Only, Colt didn’t seem disgusted or amused at all. He ran a hand through my long hair, his fingers grazing my neck and shoulder. His hand slid down my arm, then to my stomach, my hip. And even though he didn’t say a word, I realized that maybe Colt didn’t see me the way I saw me. I gave him a nervous smile before he leaned back down to kiss me again.
The longer we kissed, the more aware I was that we should stop, and the less I wanted to.
I’d never been totally sure about waiting for marriage, but Colt wasn’t even my boyfriend. He was leaving in a couple days, and who knew when or if I’d see him again. It was gonna be hard enough saying good-bye when all I had was a crush, but now …
He pulled away again, breathing hard. “Agnes …”
I didn’t let him finish. I grabbed for him, yanked him back down to me. Because every second we weren’t touching felt like agony.
He laughed. “Okay … But … You sure this isn’t too fast?”
“I’m sure. I want this.”
Truth be told, it probably was too fast. All the firsts weren’t supposed to come at once. But I’d spent my whole life standing still. And I didn’t want to be still anymore. Because as much as I knew doing this and then letting Colt leave would hurt, I was sure the regret of doing nothing would be worse.
Sleeping with a boy who wasn’t my boyfriend, who’d be gone by the end of the week—it sure hadn’t been part of my plan. But, then again, neither had becoming friends with Bo. And regardless of our fight tonight, I didn’t regret that for a minute.
So I decided to do what Colt had said—I was going after what I wanted for once.
And, tonight, I was all right with moving too fast.
“Of course this piece of trash ain’t got a spare. Damn it.” I slam my fist into the side of the car. My knuckles ache a little, but I don’t give a shit. The little dent I left in the door is worth it.
“So … what now?”
Agnes is standing on the side of the road—if you can even call it that. Our bags are by her feet, and she’s holding Utah’s leash. The dog’s just sniffing around. She ain’t got a clue anything’s wrong.
I reach into the car and pull out the book of maps Colt gave us. I open up the map of Kentucky, the one I drew our route on, hoping I might be able to figure out where we’re at. I run my finger along the line, tracing our trip, guessing where the gas station was. But I made so many fast turns after that, trying to get out of town, that I ain’t even sure what direction we’d gone.
I keep looking, keep trying, but the tiny lines all start blurring together.
“Fuck,” I say, throwing the book to the ground and giving it a good stomp with my right foot. And another.
“Bo?” Agnes’s voice is trembling.
I freeze, shame creeping up into my chest. Yelling, punching cars, tearing up books—my Dickinson is showing, and it ain’t pretty. I take a deep breath and step away from the trampled maps. Then I run my hands through my hair. I keep forgetting how short it is now, and when I remember, it makes me wanna cry.
“Bo?” she says again.
“This road ain’t on the map,” I say. “I got no clue where we are or where to go.”
“Oh … So … What do we do?”
“Only thing we can do.” I take a deep breath and swallow back the tears before turning toward her. “We gotta walk.”
“Walk where?”
I pick up our bags and sling them over my shoulder. It’s lucky we don’t got much. The bags are real light, which makes hauling them around a hell of a lot easier. “We just keep following the path. It’ll lead to a town eventually.”
“Yeah, but … how long is eventually?”