One Was Lost(36)

It isn’t great, but man, it’s better. So much better.

I rummage through my pockets for the little toothbrushes, handing one to Lucas. He groans the second he pops it between his teeth, and I couldn’t agree more. It’s even better than the wipes. I brush every single millimeter of my mouth, sucking the minty drop of toothpaste in the center until it’s long gone.

When we’re done, we have a wad of used things neither of us wants to look at. I can’t believe that much filth came off me. I leave my pile on a rock, figuring I’ll carry it back to…well, to somewhere.

“So, why’d you freak out?” he asks. “Was it because of the butter stuff?”

“SunButter.”

“SunButter. That’s why you took off, right?” he asks.

I nod, my gaze pulling to the little stream. Water gurgles around rocks and under mossy outcroppings. “It’s not just the SunButter. That cooler could have been packed out of my refrigerator at home. Every single thing in there is something I eat, down to the flavor of the yogurt. Someone picked all my favorites.”

“Does being away from it help?”

“Yes. No.” I take a shaky breath and look up at him.

“It’s cool. Take your time.”

I chuckle. Take my time? What happened to the guy who was breathing down my neck to keep me moving faster across the river? The snapping, the dirty looks from earlier—they’re gone. I mean, there’s a comment here and there, but mostly, he’s back to the Lucas from months ago. The one I flirted with and kissed…and then totally ignored.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” I ask.

He lowers his eyelids and drops into his dirty tone. “I’m always nice, Sera.”

“No, you’re not, and that’s not the kind of nice I’m talking about.” His smile disappears, but I force myself to go on. “When we first got out here, you seemed pretty pissed.”

He toes the mud at the edge of the stream with his boot, his jaw clenched. “Pissed?”

“You going to deny it?” I ask. “I mean, I get it. I do. But the first couple of days—before everything went to hell—you seemed determined to either pick me apart or load every single conversation with innuendo.”

His smirk chills his whole face. “I can’t help it if you read sex into everything, can I?”

“That’s exactly what I mean. I’m not complaining about the change, mind you. I guess I just expected…” I don’t know what I expected, so I trail off into weird silence. Did I think he’d confront me? Hate me? Act like we didn’t kiss or I didn’t ignore him after? Not likely. I’ve been fricking awkward as hell in school this year, trying to avoid him.

He tilts his head, and the shadows on his face turn long. “Did you think I’d pretend it never happened? I mean, you’ve done a nice job of it, right? Walking around like you’re too good to even breathe my air for the past two months.”

He steps forward, and I take a breath that feels hot and tight. He’s staring down at me, looking even more hollowed out and dangerous than usual in the low light.

“Don’t.” The word comes out of me soap-opera breathy, and the shame of it warms my cheeks. I sound like a victim, and I’m not.

“Don’t what?” he asks, tilting his head. Too-long hair slides to cover one gray eye, but the other holds me hostage. “What do you think I’d do?”

My throat clicks when I swallow, but I don’t respond. Because he wouldn’t do anything I didn’t ask him to do, and I know it. I walked into this conversation with my eyes wide open, just like I walked onto Sophie’s deck this summer. He’s waiting now. He waited then too.

We’ve been half an inch apart for a year. A century maybe. Lucas chuckles, and I feel it on my lips like electricity.

“I’m taking forever to do this,” I say, laughing. “Can you do it?”

“Yeah.” Then his hands are on my jaw, cradling my face like I’m made of something expensive. His voice drops low. “Hell, yeah.”

Lucas leans in, and I try to do everything my friends talked about, but he isn’t pressing as hard as me or using tongue or doing anything they said. Maybe I’m doing it wrong. It’s not like I have a reference for comparison, but it’s not what I thought kissing would be.

I ease back and feel him smile against my mouth. And then it’s magic.

Lucas goes so slow, a brush at my top lip. My bottom. He tilts his head and threads his fingers into my hair, and my hands finally unclench when he grazes both lips at the same time.

“This OK?” he asks.

I nod, though OK doesn’t even touch what this is. After a second or a minute or a lifetime, his mouth shifts. He makes a sound that I will hold in my memory forever. It feels perfect, all of it, and that’s how I know it’s wrong.

Because when you’re chasing a perfect moment—losing yourself in the perfect guy—before you know it, you’re throwing the rest of your life away.

His mouth is every bit as pretty as it was that night, but he’s frowning now.

“I’m sorry,” I blurt out. He knows why.

“You didn’t say one damn word to me after we kissed.”

I don’t know what to say, so I nod. I bolted half a minute after, lipstick smeared and knees wobbling. I confessed to Sophie on the drive home, but that wasn’t what I expected either. I didn’t feel giddy; I felt wrecked. No, worse than that. I felt as foolish as my mother.