“I’ll be there.” I looked to the seat behind Hunter, where Jackson sat. He was slouching in his chair with his long legs spread out in front of him, in the cool-guy pose, pretending not to pay attention.
At lunch, I went into the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. I ate a breath mint and put on some lip gloss and thought about being kissed for the first time. All the other girls were way ahead of me in that department. Ruthie Brennerman came in and tapped me on the shoulder. “So, you and Hunter, huh?” She rolled her eyes. “Everyone thought you and Jax were together.”
“Nope, we’re just friends.”
“Oh.”
She put lipstick on and made kissy lips in the mirror. “Have fun with Hunter.”
I thought about how everyone used to call her “Toothy Ruthie” until she got braces. We were all growing up. I felt sad. I looked in the mirror again and saw my younger self with the wild hair and bushy eyebrows, and then I saw Jackson’s younger face, his sweet smile, and his kind eyes. I started to cry. I wanted him to be my first kiss. I wanted to be his.
I ran out of the bathroom and smack into Jax’s chest. “Get out of my way.”
“Em, are you crying?”
“Don’t call me that,” I yelled as I ran away.
I met Hunter by the football field. His hands were bracing my neck before I was able to even get a word out. He pressed his lips to mine and then his tongue was in my mouth. It was weird, warm, slobbery, and gross, but I kissed him back anyway. Hunter was short with buzzed hair and no real standout features, but he wasn’t terrible-looking either. He just wasn’t Jax.
The whole time I thought, Why am I doing this? Hunter was pressing himself against me with enthusiasm. It wasn’t exactly romantic. I could feel that he was turned on. Not surprising for a fifteen-year-old boy. About a month before, Jax and I had been lying on the cot, reading to each other, and I’d noticed something growing in his pants. I’d laughed and he’d gotten embarrassed and then left the shed, cursing at me. I wished I hadn’t laughed. I wished I would have pretended not to see it. That’s what he would have done.
Hunter tried to put his hand up my shirt as we made out against the chain-link fence that ran behind the bleachers. That’s when I heard someone say, “Em?”
I broke away from the kiss to see Jax standing a safe distance away, near the bleacher post. He had his black hoodie on, and it shadowed his face so I couldn’t see his expression. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans. He looked different . . . dejected. No more Tough Jax.
“Yeah, what’s up, Jackson?”
“You okay?” His voice was low, timid.
I looked back at Hunter. “You know what, I’m . . .”
“What does he want?” Hunter asked.
“I have to go,” I said.
“But we’re kissing,” Hunter said. He really was a bright one.
“I know. I have to go, I’m sorry.” But I wasn’t. The only thing I was sorry for was kissing him.
As I approached Jax, he looked up from his shoes. His eyes were bloodshot. We stood there facing each other in silence.
The corners of his mouth turned up, but it wasn’t a cocky smile. His eyes were downcast. It was a sad smile.
“Are you into him?”
“No. Not really.”
“What does that mean? Were you just trying to get back at me?”
“Listen . . . I . . .”
“It was about you . . . what I wrote. It was all about you.” His bottom lip began to quiver.
“I know,” I said, my voice shaky. I started to cry then. There was no holding back. “I loved it, every word. It was so beautiful.”
He reached his thumb out and wiped tears from my cheek. “Em, can we please go back to the way things were?”
“Yes . . . definitely.”
He pulled me into his chest. “I mean, Hunter Stevens? Really? That guy’s such a slimeball.”
I wiped my tears and laughed into his shirt. “Come on, Desiree Banks? She’s a slut and everyone knows it . . . and those boobs, my god.”
“For the record, I’m not really a boob guy. Well, I mean . . .”
“I get it, dork! I can’t believe she was your first kiss.”
He pushed my shoulders back to look at me. “Desiree wasn’t my first kiss.”
“She wasn’t?”
“No. I kissed Katy Brown in the seventh grade. We made out in the reading room in the back of the library.” He scratched his chin. “And then there was Chastity Williams, and then Lizzy Peters, and . . .”
“Okay, okay, geez, I guess Desiree’s not the slut here.”
“Was that your first kiss, Em? With Hunter?”
I was beginning to feel like a total fool. “Yeah, kinda.” I said it so quietly I could barely hear myself.
His piteous smile was back.
“Don’t look at me like that, Jax. So what? Who cares?”
“No, it’s not a big deal. I just figured . . . You always seemed so, I don’t know, I just figured . . .”
“You figured what? What Jackson? That my first kiss would be with you?”
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He sighed. “You’re special.”
“Oh, I’m special? That makes me sound retarded.”