Confessions of a Serial Kisser (7 page)

21

Rendezvous

"W
OW
," A
DRIENNE GASPED
as we hurried away. "You have become so gutsy!"

I giggled. "Is this living a fantasy or what?"

"No kidding!" She hesitated. "But what if he doesn't call?"

"Then I won't have wasted a bunch of time pining over someone who doesn't have my crimson kiss!"

Fortunately, this was not a problem.

He called at 7:02.

"Hey, Evangeline, it's Justin. Wassup?"

All of a sudden my mouth went dry. But I managed to sound passably confident as I said, "Meet me at the Prager Park gazebo in fifteen minutes."

"Why?"

My mouth now felt stuffed with cotton. "Hmm. If you have to ask, maybe you shouldn't come."

Had that even been intelligible? And what was I
thinking
? What if he said, "Why would I want to meet up with
you
?" How embarrassing would that be?

But then my ear buzzed with the sweet sound of "I'll be there."

I hung up, greatly relieved.

And slightly shocked!

It worked!

I was going to be meeting a romantic guy at a romantic setting.

We were going to do some romantic crimson kissing!

Since Prager Park is only a five-minute walk from the condo, I had plenty of time to take out some crimson-kissing insurance. I refreshed my lip gloss and mascara, then sprayed on some of my mother's musky perfume. It was sultry and very...smooth.

It occurred to me as I was spritzing my neck that there was no mention of Delilah's wearing sexy perfumes in
A Crimson Kiss.
It also occurred to me that if she did wear perfume, it would probably be more flowery than musky.

"Who cares?" I said out loud, then stalled for another ten minutes. Showing up five minutes late would be cool. Showing up five minutes early would not.

By the time I left the condo, I was completely giddy. It was a beautiful clear night with a nearly full moon; the air was crisp but not cold, I was meeting a dark-eyed, dashing-looking guy at a gazebo.... I actually twirled around twice as I strolled down the sidewalk. I wasn't just seeing a fantasy, I was actually living one!

Unfortunately, when I strolled up to the gazebo, I discovered that Justin Rodriguez had not yet arrived. The setting
was
perfect, but I couldn't enjoy the moonlight, or the sweet smell of honeysuckle, or the cool night air. Instead, I stood around for what seemed like an eternity feeling like a total dweeb and picked at a cuticle. I hate when I rip cuticles. They get all bleedy and oozy and gross. But once I start, I can't seem to stop until the whole thing's torn off.

By the time Justin appeared (out of nowhere, scaring the hell out of me), I'd ripped away the entire cuticle of my left thumb, worrying that I'd been stood up.

"Wassup?" Justin said, acting a little too cool. He laughed. "Why're you so jumpy?"

I almost snapped, "Why are you so late?" but in my head it sounded (
eeew
) desperate. So I leaned against a post of the gazebo and tried for something relaxed and witty. "Jumpy? Maybe I'm a rabbit?"

The second it left my lips, my brain screamed,
A rabbit? What kind of insane thing is that to say? What do you think he's going to read into that? He sure won't think you mean fuzzy and cute!

He laughed and moved toward me.

"I didn't mean it like that," I said, taking a step away.

"Then why're we here?"

My thumb was oozing and it was distracting me. So I put my thumbnail up to my mouth, trying to look casual as I licked it. The taste of blood mixed with micro specks of Colgate.
Oh, no!
I thought.
It's seriously bleeding!

Justin's nose started twitching like a rabbit's, and at first I thought he was making fun of me, but then his eyes squeezed together and he let out a loud, splattering sneeze.

A horn beeped from the parking lot behind me as Justin blasted another splattery sneeze into his sleeve. I glanced over my shoulder, then did a double take as two guys dived for cover inside an old Nissan. "You brought Blaine and Travis?"

"Aaaa-chooooo!"
He wiped his face. "Your perfume...the flowers...something's killin' me!" He twitched and sniffed.
"Aaaa-chooooo!"

"Why'd you bring Blaine and Travis?"

"
Aaaa-chooooo!
Why'd you wear that stupid perfume?
Aaaa-chooooo!
Why'd you pick this stupid place?
Aaaa-chooooo!
"

I stared at him. So much for the perfect setting. Obviously there'd be no kissing tonight!

22

Morning Madness

W
HEN
A
DRIENNE AND
I
WERE EIGHTH GRADERS
, we had four out of six classes together. When we moved up to high school, we had only two classes the same, and we thought it was torture. But as sophomores we were down to one class (P.E.), and now we have none. We do have the same teachers for American literature and world history, but they're at different times, so that's only useful for comparing homework answers.

We used to walk to school together, too, but that was before the separation. Now, instead of living a block away from the Willows, I'm at the condo, over a mile away. And this year, while I had my nose in a book (either text or romance) or was killing time at Groove Records, Adrienne was getting more and more involved in school. Newspaper production, which she has first period (and, it seems, at lunch and after school), and choir now ruled her life. If she wasn't rushing off to meet some deadline for the
Larkmont Times,
she was catering to the demanding whims of Mr. and Mrs. Vogel, her choir teachers.

So not seeing her in the quad the morning following the gazebo disaster was nothing unusual.

Her not having called me back the night before was.

Where was she?

I was in the middle of a kissing crisis!

I needed my best friend!

I tried the newspaper production classroom and asked the advisor, Ms. Pickney, if she'd seen her.

"Not this morning, no." As I turned to go, she called, "But when you find her, tell her she should be here! Her page is still half empty! Our deadline is Thursday!"

I waved an acknowledgment, then walked over to the Performance Pavilion, trying to ignore all the couples sucking face in alcoves along the way.

One of the back entrances to the theater was unlocked, and I entered to the sound of angelic voices and a tinkling piano. I found a seat in the shadows and watched as Adrienne and about twenty other singers did vocal gymnastics while Mr. Vogel waved a baton around like he was fending off a swarm of bees and Mrs. Vogel played with exaggerated drama at the baby grand. (They both always dress and act like they're giving the performance of a lifetime. Swooping bows, flowing scarves, polished dress shoes...even their hallway "good mornings" are overly theatrical. It's really quite exhausting being around them.)

After a while I found myself watching a tall blond who was standing in the row behind Adrienne. His name was Patrick or Patton or Peyton or...some other P name...and he was obviously very serious about his singing. Big oooos, wide eeeees...He was handsome in a choirboy sort of way and had, I decided, a very expressive mouth.

The warning bell rang, and after a brief pep talk from Mr. Vogel about the "fast-approaching spring choral performance," the choir dispersed.

"Adrienne!" I called, hurrying up to the stage.

"Evangeline!" she called back, her cheeks glowing from her early-morning vocalizing. She scampered down the side steps and said, "I'm so sorry I didn't get back to you last night. I fell asleep at eight o'clock, if you can believe that! I was just exhausted." She grabbed my arm and whispered, "So what happened? Did you meet Justin? Did you get your crimson kiss?"

I scowled. "I was so wrong about him. It was a disaster."

"See ya, Adrienne," the blond choirboy said as he went by. "Hey, Evangeline."

"Hey," I said back, racking my brains for his name.

"See ya, Paxton," Adrienne said, her cheeks still glowing.

I did a mental snap of the fingers.
Paxton.

Adrienne called, "You sounded great today!" after him, then latched on to me again and whispered, "Why was it a disaster? Tell me! Tell me everything!"

"He's allergic to perfume. Or flowers. Or both! He was late, he sneezed all over the place, and get this--he brought Blaine and Travis!"

"No!"

"Seriously. How mature is that? They were spying from his car!"

"Get out!" She gave me a friendly shove, then started making a beeline toward her first-period class. "So...no kiss?"

"Not even close." I cut away from her, saying, "I gotta go. Fieldman's the tardy Nazi."

"Are you giving him a second chance?"

I pulled a horrified face. "No!"

She laughed and called, "I'll meet you in the quad at break, okay?" She stopped short. "No, wait! Meet me in Ms. Pickney's room! My page is only half done and the deadline's Thursday! I need every second I can get!"

I called, "Right!" and hurried off with a smile and a wave.

23

Hippity-Hop!

T
HE BIG SURPRISE DURING MATH
was having to avoid eye contact with Robbie Marshall. After the fish kiss he'd totally ignored me, which was more than fine with me. But now suddenly he was watching me, grinning slyly at me, casually flexing his biceps.

What was up with that?

After class I got my question answered.

"You want to go out?" he asked, catching my arm as he whispered it in my ear.

I pulled away. "Uh...no."

"Aw, c'mon. We'd be good together."

I stopped and turned to face him. "What about Sunshine?"

He shrugged. "We're kinda broken up."

"
Kinda
broken up?"

"Look," he whispered, "we could just try it out.... She doesn't have to know!"

I gave him an Adriennesque squint. "You're disgusting, you know that?" Then I huffed off.

Stu Dillard was the one who provided some clarity to Robbie's sudden renewed interest in me. "Hippity-hop, E
van
geline!" he called as I approached Mr. Anderson's world history boredom tomb. Then he put his index fingers up like devil's horns and wiggled them.

At first I didn't get it, but as I slid into my seat, a wave of nausea knocked me flat.

It couldn't be!

I hadn't even
done
anything!

But what else could the wiggly ears and hippity-hop comment be about?

Justin Rodriguez had been talking rabbits!

24

Shack Attack

T
HERE WAS NO WAY
I
COULD CONCENTRATE
in world history. If Stu knew, so did half the school.

Talk about rabbits--I wanted to crawl into a hole and die!

I couldn't believe it. How could this have happened? Overnight I'd gotten a reputation?

I hadn't even
done
anything!

And there was no way I was going to let some sneezy twerp and his pint-sized posse talk trash about me! At break I stormed around until I found Justin on his way to the Snack Shack.

"What's the big idea?" I asked, and I actually pushed his chest with both my hands.

He stumbled back a step and grinned. "Whoa!"

"Stop that!" I snapped, because I hated the smug way he was looking at me. "I can't believe you told people what I said. You know I didn't mean it that way! You startled me and it just popped out of my mouth!"

He gave a little twitch of the shoulder. "I didn't broadcast it. I just told Blaine and Travis."

"Yeah? Well Stu Dillard called out 'Hippity-hop' to me this morning, so someone somewhere's broadcasting!"

He said, "Sorry," like he couldn't care less. Then he shook his head and said, "I still don't really get why you wanted to meet me--"

I was so exasperated and so
mad
that I just blurted out, "I wanted a kiss. That's all! Just one perfect kiss. And for some insane reason I thought
you
could deliver it! But instead, you delivered your obnoxious little friends and disgusting
sneezes.
And now I have to--"

Before I could finish my rant, he grabbed me, pulled me toward him, and planted a kiss.

Only he kind of missed.

His lips were half on my lips and half off, which was really awkward. And he tried to adjust, but it was just...wrong.

Besides, I didn't want him to kiss me on the outskirts of the Snack Shack! I'd wanted him to kiss me in a gazebo in the moonlight. I'd wanted tender, melting lips. A
fantasy
kiss.

This kiss wasn't crimson!

It was a murky, muddled gray!

I tried to pull away from him, but he had his hands clamped on my upper arms and bent forward to stay connected.

I felt a surge of panic.

I was trapped!

Held hostage by a crooked kiss!

When pulling back only made him bend farther forward, I twisted my head to the side and jerked free. But in the process I lost my balance, staggered backward, and fell against an overflowing trash can.

I went down with a
crash,
knocking garbage everywhere.

One look at me sprawled across trash and Justin took off.

That crummy crooked kisser just ditched me!

And the whole Snack Shack line was now staring at me!

I tried to make a graceful return to an upright position, but that wasn't easy with nacho sauce smeared everywhere.

Then someone grabbed my arm to help me up, and I found myself face to face with...a Boy Scout?

He wasn't exactly in uniform, but his white polo shirt was tucked into his tan pants, and his whole demeanor was squeaky-clean. His hair was actually
parted
and plastered across his head like he was preparing for a midlife comb-over.

"Thanks," I said, standing up. I was a good six inches taller than he was.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

I nodded and brushed myself off, then watched while he righted the can and scooped the trash back inside. "There," he said when he was done. He looked at his hands and smiled. "I guess I'd better go wash up!"

"Uh, thanks," I said again, giving a lame wave as he hurried off. "Me too."

People in the Snack Shack line were still staring.

I slunk away, thinking that at least now they had something besides rabbits to gossip about.