Blind Kiss(19)

“And by the way, I happen to have a deviated septum. That’s why my voice sounds like this sometimes, you asshole. Now get out and help me with your car.”

As we stepped out, he pointed to my Honda and said, “Try and start it when I tell you.”

I stopped and turned to him. “What’s your middle and last name?”

“Gavin Augusta Berninger.”

“Regal,” I said with a wink.

“I know, right?” He shrugged one arm like he was royalty or something.

“Is that French?”

“Yeah, my dad’s family is French . . . sort of. Like, his great-great-grandfather came from France. No one in our family even speaks French.”

“Hmm, not so regal anymore,” I said.

“Whatever, Penny Piper.”

Gavin did have that creamy French skin that I loved. God, I hated my name. My mom was seriously on quaaludes when she named us. She thought our names were cute, like we would be permanent children.

Once I was in my car, he hooked up the cables and revved the engine in good ole Charlize. “Go ahead!” he yelled.

My little Honda started right up. He got out and came over to my door as I was cranking up the heater. It was freezing and felt like it was going to snow. He motioned for me to roll down my window.

“So . . . not flooded. You can let your microbiologist friend know he should probably stick to amoebas and shit like that in the lab.” He bent and looked through the window at some gauges on my dash. “Let it run for a few minutes.”

I was shivering. “I hate the cold.”

“You want me to get in there and warm you up?”

I ignored him. “Hey, aren’t you gonna be late? Did you say you have to work?” I asked.

He looked at his watch. “I’m good. I’ll unplug the cables and follow you home, okay? Just to make sure.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” he said as he was walking away.

Gavin really did follow me all the way home. After I pulled into the driveway, I got out and waved good-bye to him, but he rolled his window down.

“Wait, come here.”

I jogged over to his car as it idled in the street. “What’s up?”

“We’re gonna hang out, right?”

I dug around in my bag for a pen. “Let me see your hand. Here’s my house number and my email.” I wrote it on his palm.

He kissed it before saying, “No cell phone?”

“Not yet. I asked for one for Christmas.”

“You been naughty or nice?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Funny.”

“Hey, by the way, thanks for making out with me,” he said. “I gotta go. I need to get this tattooed on my hand.” He pointed to my phone number.

I started laughing. “Bye, weirdo.”

As I headed for the front door, he drove away and yelled out “Bye, PIP. I actually love your laugh. I want to hear it again tomorrow.”





8. Fourteen Years Ago


PENNY

I didn’t get a call or email from Gavin the next day, but I did see Ling the day after that. It was Friday, my dance conditioning day. It’s basically a four-hour workout. No dancing, just strength training and stamina exercises. Joey was MIA of course, the piece of shit. Doug said he’d find him and let him know he was on thin ice, but I knew it would piss off Joey even more.

Ling was in the workout room, staring at all the male dancers while I finished barre squats.

“So, hot mama,” she said as we walked into the locker room. “Looks like that Blind Kiss study wasn’t so bad after all.”

I was stuffing my dance crap into a bag on one of the benches. “Yeah, Gavin’s pretty hot. He’s a good kisser, too. I just don’t have time for boys right now. I have to train hard until the end of the year and get the rest of my grades up. But, yeah, he’s cool.”

She was blinking at me through her glasses like she had no idea what I was talking about. “Um, helloooo, earth to Penny. Hot Kissing Machine is sitting on the curb outside, waiting for you. You didn’t know that?”

“He is?”

“Yeah. I asked what he was doing and he said, ‘Waiting for my BFF to finish conditioning.’?”

“Oh my God.” What is he doing here? “Oh Ling, I totally stink. I can’t go out there. I mean, I smell really bad. I can’t see him right now.”

“I doubt he cares. Look at you.” She waved her hand up and down my body. “Anyway, I thought you didn’t have time for boys?”

“I don’t. I need a way out. What are you doing tonight?”

“Going to a party in my building. You want to go to a stupid party with a bunch of my psych friends instead of hanging out with Hot Kissing Machine?”

“No. I mean yes. I want to go to the stupid party.” I couldn’t be alone with him; I knew that.

“Okay, suit yourself. Come by at eight. I live in those Greenwood Apartments with the red doors. Number twelve on the first floor.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Cool,” she said. “Have fun with your BFF. I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

“I’m not—”