“You mind taking a walk? It’s beautiful out,” he says, and I nod my head. There’s the perfect warm breeze, the street is lined with shops and other things you’d find in a small downtown area. We walk close and I stick my hands in my jean pockets, and realize he probably wanted to hold my hand but I leave them in my pockets.
“So full scholarship, that’s amazing.”
“It probably helped that I was a foster kid,” I say dismissively.
“Still, you’re the first person I’ve met with an accomplishment like that. Beautiful and a genius,” he says playfully.
“Far from a genius,” I tell him with a laugh.
“And modest,” he adds, with a lopsided grin that gives me goosebumps.
“Your ex, you mentioned her before.” He gives me an uneasy laugh and it makes me stop and smile at him.
“I think she thought I was a certain kind of person and I thought she was too. We were both wrong.” He shrugs.
“Do you miss her?” I ask. The sun is making his blue eyes seem even more brilliant.
“I miss who I thought she was,” he admits honestly.
You’re not who he thinks you are either.
I nod and start walking again, but I don’t know what it’s like to miss someone. I guess that’s an upside to being alone
“What about you, what ex is regretting whatever he did to lose you?” he asks. I let out a small breath and hug myself.
“There isn’t an ex,” I say hesitantly. He looks at me with surprise.
“That’s impossible!” he laughs, but when I give him a serious look his brows furrow in confusion. I rub the back of my neck and try to think of the right words to say.
“Um, my priorities have been to be independent, get my degree and a good paying job, and if I’m lucky, start a not for profit focusing on teens in foster care. I didn’t want anything to get in the way of that,” I tell him honestly. I expect him to look bored but he looks impressed and that makes me blush again.
“If you don’t mind me asking, what was it like being in foster care?”
I’m surprised by his question. I exhale slowly.
“You don’t have to talk about if it if you don’t want to.”
“No, it’s okay, it’s my life. I’ll say that it wasn’t easy and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. But aside from that, it’s just not having a connection to anyone or your past, your bloodline…it’s almost worse.”
“Do you know what happened to your parents?” I start to chew on my bottom lip.
“I wish, but I don’t know anything because I went into the system when I was four. I have no idea who my parents are or why I ended up there. It made it especially hard because while most of the other kids knew being with their parents permanently wouldn’t happen, there was always hope, a thread they could be attached to whether they wanted it or not. I didn’t have a thread.”
I realize I sound like I’m feeling sorry for myself, and there’s nothing for me to be sorry about. I know people with worse stories who aren’t where I am and I’m grateful, and what I also realize is Kameron is really easy to talk to.
“I’m sorry I’m killing the mood.” He stops mid-step and I turn to look at him. He steps towards me and for the first time his face is serious.
“You’re not killing the mood. I want to get to know you. The past is who you are, and for you to be here, I think you’re incredible.”
His words catch my breath, not because I’ve never been told anything like that by anyone in my entire life, but as I search his face for a hint of insincerity, I find none. The wind blows between us and we’re close. He takes another step forward and my feet are planted on the ground and I can’t move. Besides, if I could move there’d be nowhere I want to go other than here.
Our eyes are locked on one another. He looks at me, as if for permission, and I silently give it to him. I stop breathing as he leans down and his soft lips press against mine and everything stops—time, my anxiety, my fear. His lips touching mine calms all of it. For the first time ever I only feel what I can describe as peace. I understand why girls cry over boys they lose, why on shows I’ve seen everyone go crazy. It’s a first kiss, a voluntary one, one that makes butterflies and warmth spread through my body, as his lips part mine and his hands find the small of my back…and for a moment I feel normal. Right now I’m just a girl with a boy who is being carried away, floating by the promise of what could be one of the best things I’ve ever experienced, and I’m terrified I’ll never experience anything like it again.
Ian
For the first time in my life I haven’t been able to get a girl out of my head, and she’s standing me up. She texted after four days. I couldn’t text her since she’s so secretive about her number. Then she asks me to pick the place and meet her at six, and not to be late.
It’s 7:15 and I’m on my second beer, the sweat on the glass spreading over my fingertips. The bartender smiles at me. She’s cute, has nice tits, a small waist, and short brown hair. She’s been flirting with me since I sat down. The tag on her shirt says Teresa, and she’s pretty, normal, and like a hundred other girls I’ve slept with. A few I dated, and only one other one got close enough to me to have a serious relationship with.
That shit went really bad, I was young and couldn’t keep it in my pants. Now I’m not so young. Twenty-six is creeping towards the old dude in the bar side of the spectrum. My mom says to pick one and get her some grandkids but make sure she’s worth it. My mom’s blunt and to the point, kind of like me. After years of teaching inner city kids, she has a tough, no shit demeanor, but has a heart of gold. I wonder if this one standing me up has a heart made of ice.
“Your girlfriend running late?” Teresa asks, her tone a distinctive purr. I feel heat creep up my neck and give her a small laugh.
“More like being stood up,” I attempt to flirt back, but my thoughts are all on Alana walking through that door, bringing hell with her. Teresa leans across the bar, giving me an ample view of her tits; they’re huge and I’m pretty sure they’re real.
“Well, if she keeps you waiting any longer then I might just have to keep you company tonight.” She gives me a seductive smile before heading to the other side of the bar. The younger me would be all over that but I’m on edge and irritated. Why the hell would she tell me to come here if she wasn’t going to? She is fucking nuts though.
What the hell am I doing?
Sure she’s hot, damn near an inferno, interesting, a mystery wrapped in skintight jeans…but sometimes you have to know when to cut your losses. I push myself out of my seat, chug down the rest of my beer, and put a $20 bill down for my drinks and Teresa’s tip. I’ll go and smoke a blunt and come back later tonight to see if Teresa’s tits are the real deal. I check my phone one more time to see if she’s texted or called but I know she hasn’t since I checked my phone only two minutes ago. I head out of the bar and over to my car when I hear her voice.
“Giving up on me already?”
I fight the smile that’s breaking out on my face. I turn towards her, attempting to harden my stare, but the moment I lay my eyes on her it’s useless. Her midnight black hair is piled on the top of her head in a messy bun, giving me full view of her flawless face. She’s not wearing any makeup aside from maybe some mascara and she’s still fucking stunning. She has on a white t-shirt that’s clinging to her, hugging her breasts for dear life, and a pair of low cut jeans that might as well be painted on. No come fuck me heels but she doesn’t need them for me to want to do that; a plain black pair of tennis shoes are all that’s on her feet. She’s dressed so different from the last time I saw her and I don’t know how it’s possible that she’s even sexier in this ensemble.