I expected him to ask, or to maybe change his mind halfway through, but Emery was steady and sure as he leaned down, his eyes not leaving mine until our mouths connected.
And in that moment, with that kiss, everything changed.
We both inhaled the moment our lips touched, and I stepped into him, my arms wrapping around his middle. I pushed up onto my toes, desperate to get closer, to get more — of his lips, of his breath, of his warmth, of him. When I opened my mouth, his tongue swept inside, and I didn’t even try to fight the moan that came next. That moan made Emery grip my hair, tugging it lightly, just enough to tilt my head back and allow him better access.
He wanted more, too.
My first kiss wasn’t anything like I thought it’d be. I didn’t see fireworks or feel butterflies in my stomach. No, I saw the stars, and the mountains, and the rushing water. I saw messy script writing and a wet t-shirt stuck to muscular arms. And I felt fire, hot and burning in my core, my breath more like steam than just an exhale into a cold night. I felt warm hands and cool lips, thick sweaters and thin inhibitions, and when he finally pulled back, his forehead pressed to mine, I felt empty and elated all at once.
“Wow,” I breathed, my hands still fisted in his sweater. “Was that… is kissing always like that?”
Emery swallowed, the muscle over his jaw flexing as he shook his head slightly. “Never.”
We were both quiet a moment, my thoughts still going faster than I could keep up with. I wasn’t sure if it was the high or the kiss anymore. When Emery pulled all the way back, his hands brushing down the sides of my arms before he hooked his hands with mine, I asked the only question that was clear above the rest of the noise.
“Can we do it again?”
So, we did, all night long. Emery wrapped us up together in the same sleeping bag, our bodies hot and slick as he kissed me like it was his job, like it was number one on his hopes and dreams list. He didn’t lift my shirt, or sneak a hand down my sweat pants, or thrust his hard on against me, though I knew it was there. I could feel it even when he tried to hide it from me.
He kissed me like it was a privilege, like he didn’t want to rush, like we had forever.
I think I knew even then that we didn’t.
I woke up alone in the sleeping bag the next morning, rubbing my eyes with a slight ache behind them. I felt around on the floor of the tent until I found my glasses, and when I pushed them into place, every moment from last night rushed back all at once.
A smile found my lips as I closed my eyes, remembering the feel of his hands, the taste of his lips, the sounds he made when we were both driving each other so crazy it was unbearable. When I opened my eyes again, Emery was in the opening of the tent, watching me with a lazy smile.
“Good morning.”
“It really is,” I said, and his smile grew.
“Glen and I are going to go for a morning hike around the park, probably get some firewood. I figured I’d take Kalo to get some of her energy out. You want to come?”
My leg protested with a strong, tingling ache before I could even open my mouth to answer.
“I’m a little sore from yesterday, so I think I’ll stay back.”
He eyed my leg, a flash of concern on his face, but I smiled to assure him I was fine.
“Okay. Nora is making breakfast burritos. And there’s coffee.”
I hummed at that. “I’ll be out in a sec. Have fun on your hike.”
Emery’s eyes trailed over me, the strap of my layering tank top slid off one shoulder, my legs still covered by the sleeping bag. When his gaze found mine again, I knew my blush was like a neon sign, and he just smirked before letting the tent flap close.
I bit my lip, falling back into the sleeping bag with a puff, my stomach giddy, heart fluttering.
What does this mean?
It was a question I didn’t let myself ask last night, at least not out loud, but it was sounding in my head on repeat now that the morning light was shining. I’d never been kissed before. Emery knew that, and he kissed me. He was my first kiss. That had to mean something, right?
Or was it just for fun? Was it just Emery being him, kissing girls like it was no big deal, like everything would be normal the next day?
Were we just friends?
Were we even that?
My smile faded when I realized we’d known each other for less than a week, and here I was getting butterflies over a make-out session. He probably did this all the time — he probably usually did more.
Desperate for reassurance, I eyed the tent opening before pulling Emery’s journal out of his bag and into my lap. I heard his voice fade along with Glen’s, and even though my heart thumped with a mixture of adrenaline and guilt, I opened to the last page.
But there was nothing new.
Of course, he hadn’t written about it yet. When would he have had time?
But I needed something, needed his words, needed to be inside that beautiful brain of his. So, I flipped back toward the beginning, reading an entry not too long after the one about that day.
I stopped taking my medicine.
Marni knows, but my parents don’t. They think it’s the only way to save me from myself, to dope me up to the point of basically not living at all. Marni gets it, she knows why I don’t want to take them. She still thinks I should, but doesn’t press me to. She says it’s my choice. My parents make me feel like I don’t have any of those, anymore.
Grams has been on medicine all her life, the exact kind they prescribed me. She said she doesn’t know how she would have survived as a mother, as a wife, without them. But after Gramps died, she stopped taking them.
I liked her better then.
Maybe she’s a little crazy, maybe she talks about darker things than most preferred — but she’s here. She’s alive, and alert, and real. Uncensored. I appreciate that.
So, when I told her about not taking my pills anymore, she didn’t judge me, either.
She told me how to get rid of them and make it look like I was taking them when I wasn’t.
Anyway, I stopped taking my medicine, and I feel a little better and a little worse. Dad wants me to step up in the business, and I’m trying, but my heart isn’t in it. My heart isn’t in anything.
When I was little, I used to love the swings. It was the only place I wanted to be on the playground. I spent my entire recess on the swings. I loved that feeling, of flying, of falling. Marni said I should focus on things that make me happy, so I went to the park today. I went to the swings.
They don’t make me happy anymore.
Maybe today is just a bad day.
“Whatcha reading?”
I jumped at the sound of Nora’s voice, tossing Emery’s journal across the tent like it’d bitten me. One eyebrow raised on her face as I pressed a hand flat to my chest.
“Sorry, you startled me,” I said on a laugh, crawling out of the sleeping bag to retrieve his journal. I tucked it back into his bag, but when I faced Nora again, I saw suspicion all over her face. “Just the map we have for the trip, figuring out the next stop. We’re thinking Rio Grande National Park.”
“Mm-hmm,” she said, eyeing me. “Great park, definitely worth the stop.” She paused, her lips rolling like she was tasting her next words before she said them. “I’ve got coffee and breakfast out here. Care to join an old woman?”