How to Meet Boys (11 page)

“What’s a ‘cat ring’?” I asked, pointing at the painted logo.

“It’s like the Cat Mafia,” he said. “But more cruel.”

“Right. So, see you around?” I asked, anxious to get back inside.

“Yeah. Sure. Thanks again!” he called.

“No problem!” I jogged back to the store, getting more drenched with every step. I’d need to grab a new dry staff T-shirt—my grandmother would understand.

“Apple emergency,” I said to Jackson, drying my hair with a paper towel once I was back inside the store. “Whoever heard of a Northern Spy crisis?”

“Russia?” Jackson asked. “It seemed like this was his first day on the job. Or his last.”

“Exactly. I’m so glad I don’t have that kind of job. I would not want that much stress.” I couldn’t believe I had just said that. Two weeks ago this was the most stressful job I could have imagined, but only because of my coworker. To be honest, it still was a little stressful working with Jackson, but at least Gus had helped me put it in perspective. “He sent that poor guy out in the pouring rain to get apples—like it couldn’t have waited half an hour or even ten minutes?”

“Chef Michael is in for a surprise, because I put a couple different varieties in the bags I filled. You think that’s okay?” Jackson asked.

“What? You did not. Chef Michael is going to come over and kick your butt,” I said. “Just watch him.”

“It’s going to be an apple smackdown?” Jackson asked.

We started laughing. I couldn’t help thinking of the time we’d gone to see a Smackdown event live at the convention center. Monster trucks battling monster Jeeps. We used to think that was cool—when was that? Fourth grade?

After I hurried into the bathroom to quickly change shirts, I came back out and finished doing the paperwork for the invoice, making sure I put the pink and yellow copies in the right box so my grandparents would see them.

I looked at the invoice.
Gus Savoy
, it said in terrible handwriting. Either that or Gus Savory, which would be really weird.

I had a feeling that Gus was going to be a good addition to the summer. Maybe he lived in town all year, and if he did, maybe Claire knew him. I’d have to ask her.

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“This is legal, right?” I asked Lucy.

“Of course it is. Don’t you trust us?” Claire replied, standing beside her.

“Sure. Sure,” I said quickly. “I guess. I’m just not used to such big outdoor fires. They tend to frown on those back home. In fact, there’s a guy on our block who got in big trouble for trying something like this.”

“Well, sure, when they’re in someone’s back
yard
,” Lucy said. “This is different. If the fire gets too big, we’re right beside the lake.”

“Plus, the cold, wet sand keeps it from spreading,” said Claire.

I looked around Bridgeport’s “small” beach (as opposed to the big, official swimming beach, which was located near the ferry and the center of town), at the fire burning on the sand, surrounded by people perched on rocks. Music blared from somewhere, and there were coolers filled with pop, water—probably other stuff too, but I wasn’t up for that. About half of my coworkers were hanging out, along with a lot of other people I didn’t know at all.

Since a lot of Jackson’s friends were here, I was worried he would be too. Technically, I was more excited than worried, though. I really wanted to see him. More than anything. Not that I could say that to Lucy, or anyone else here.

“The only part that’s not legal is maybe what some people are drinking,” Lucy said. “But since we’re having plain old lemonade, I think we’re good.”

We started playing a beanbag game, but since it was almost ten o’clock and the moon was new, it was nearly impossible. “Sorry!” I cried as I tossed one right at Claire.

“I can’t see what I’m doing. Can any of you guys?” Lucy asked.

“That’s what makes it fun!” Claire said.

“No, that’s what makes me suck at it,” Lucy said. “Come on, let’s go sit by the fire. Did anyone bring marshmallows?” she asked as we walked up to the circle to take a seat.

“It’s all yours.” Henry handed her a roasting stick and a bag of marshmallows. “I’ve had about ten in a row and can now go throw up.”

“Who has a good ghost story?” Claire asked, while Lucy loaded up the stick with three marshmallows, one for each of us. She handed me the bag to hold.

“Come on. You still believe in ghost stories?” someone replied.

“You don’t have to believe to tell one and freak everyone else out,” Claire said. “That’s the point.”

Suddenly I noticed a new face in the group across the fire from us. It was Jackson. He was
here
. I was so startled that I almost dropped the bag of marshmallows into the fire.

“I thought you were working late!” Sarah said.

“I was, but it got dead all of a sudden, so they cut me,” Jackson said.

“Love how that restaurant language makes it sound like a death match,” Henry commented.

“Hey, it
is
the Mafia,” Claire joked.

Jackson glanced over at her and laughed, and that’s when he noticed me. Our eyes met across the bonfire. “Hey, Mikayla,” he said. “Oh, hey, Lucy.”

A log crashed down in the bonfire at that very second, showering us with sparks.

“Oh. Hey.” I gave a little wave, acknowledging him very casually, while inside I was dying of nervousness. He’d said my name, so now Lucy knew that . . 

“Hey!” Lucy called across the bonfire to him. Then she turned to me. “You guys know each other already?”

“We met at the Club,” I said quickly. “Just, you know. Playing volleyball.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked in a whisper.

“It didn’t come up—listen, Lucy, I have to talk to you,” I blurted. “Excuse us.” I plucked the marshmallow stick from her hand and gave it to Claire, then I half nudged and half dragged Lucy away from the fire, over to the water’s edge.

“Uh oh. Sounds serious,” Lucy said. “Wait. What’s up?”

“I did meet Jackson before. I just didn’t tell you because . . ” I heard Jackson laughing, over by the bonfire. This was so hard. I loved his laugh. If I told Lucy I was interested in him, she’d not only hate me, she’d probably give me an earful of why I should avoid him like the plague. Suddenly I lost my nerve on being a hundred percent honest with her.

“You didn’t tell me because you thought I’d freak out,” Lucy said. “Well, don’t worry, I’m not going to.”

Relief flooded through me. But it was too early for that, because I hadn’t actually said anything important yet. “You’re not?”

“Nope,” she said. “In fact, it’s probably a relief that you know him now.”

“Um, why?”

“Because I’ve only talked about him a dozen times so far this summer,” she said out of the corner of her mouth. “Now you can put a face to the name.”

“Right.” I nodded. That was one advantage. Especially when it was such a nice face.

“I wish you hadn’t felt like you needed to hide the fact you knew him. You don’t have to confess or anything. We
are
best friends, you know. I won’t crumple on you.”

“I know, but . . ” I thought about telling her more, like how we’d had a couple of intense up-close moments with each other, and how he’d kind of asked me out only we’d never set an actual date, but I was hoping—

“I’m dying for that marshmallow,” Lucy said. “Can we head back? Is there something else, or was that it?”

“That was . . . it?” I didn’t sound—or feel—convinced. “I guess. But are you sure? Because only a couple weeks ago you didn’t even want to run into him or work with him. That’s the only reason I didn’t tell you I’d met him.”

“I totally appreciate you being concerned, but it’s not such a big deal to me anymore. I know I’ve been acting a little over the top, but it’s going better now. I’m not going to let it define my summer or anything. So come on, let’s get back.” She looped her arm through mine and we hurried back to the bonfire.

Maybe it wasn’t that big of a deal to her. I really hoped that was true.

An hour later, after a couple of marshmallows and a couple of s’mores, my hands were about as sticky as the kids at the BBC after lunch. Before I started playing glow-in-the-dark Frisbee, I needed to clean them off or my hands would stick to the disc. “Be right back!” I told Lucy and Claire.

I went to the water’s edge, waded in, and started running my hands through the cool water. As I was walking back to the Frisbee game, Jackson jogged to catch up with me. “Hey. I haven’t had a chance to talk to you yet. Have you been avoiding me?”

“No. Not at all. I’ve just been really busy lately,” I said.

“Me too. Do you want to go for a walk?” Jackson asked.

“Just us?” I asked.

He nodded. “That’s the idea.”

“That—um—okay,” I said, looking over my shoulder and wondering where Lucy was. Maybe I hadn’t been completely honest with Lucy about my feelings for Jackson, but at least I’d gotten one thing cleared up. Now I didn’t have to feel so bad about talking to him, anyway.

“You sure?” Jackson asked, walking backwards in front of me. “You didn’t sound a hundred percent.”

“No, I am,” I said. “But it’s so late—and where would we go?”

“Down the beach a little—there’s a cove, kind of behind those trees. We could walk down there, and back,” Jackson said.

“Sure,” I said.

“So have you been up here other summers?” Jackson asked as we set out.

“Once, for a week or so,” I admitted.

“So how did I not meet you then? You must have hid out,” he said.

“I’m good at that,” I said. “I’m actually part hermit. It’s in my astrological sign.”

He groaned. “Don’t tell me you believe in that stuff.”

“Um . . ”

“You do?”

“No!” I said. “Seriously, I don’t. But I still think there are tons of things in life that can’t be easily explained.”
For instance: Why would I meet you now?

“You mean, like UFOs,” he said.

“No, those are totally fake. Are you serious?” I laughed.

“So you don’t believe in aliens, but you still believe in the sign of the tiger,” he said.

I burst out laughing. “There’s no such thing as a tiger sign. There’s a lion—”

“I don’t know! Why should I know? It’s all made up, anyway.” He laughed too. We walked a little bit farther when I tripped on a rock and Jackson grabbed my arm to keep me from falling, but instead of letting go, he took my hand in his and squeezed. We stepped on to the cove’s sand and kept walking down the beach, hand in hand.

I didn’t believe in love at first sight. It was just a story people told, a fairy tale. But if this wasn’t love at first (and second and third) sight, what was it? Since the day Jackson had nearly run me off the road, this was how I felt when I was around him. I couldn’t pretend the feeling wasn’t there.

“Is this where we have to turn around?” I asked, when we reached the end of the short beach.

“I guess so,” Jackson said. “It is late.”

“It is,” I agreed. We strolled back in the direction of the bonfire. Then we both stopped. Neither one of us seemed to want to go back.

“Hey.” Jackson turned to face me. He tucked my hair behind my ears, and ran his hand down the side of my check.

I squeezed his hand more tightly and moved closer to him. We were looking at each other for a second and then we were kissing, our lips finding each other’s as if it wasn’t the first time, but like we’d been doing this forever. We fit together like two unusual jigsaw puzzle pieces that you don’t have to force: they don’t look like a match until you turn them the right way, and then you solve that entire side of the puzzle.

I’d never kissed anyone before. I’d spent hours daydreaming of what it would feel like. But it wasn’t anything like what I’d imagined. With Jackson, it felt natural and normal and exciting and incredible all rolled into one. And then some.

We stopped for a second, caught our breath, smiled at each other. I leaned into him, putting my arms around his waist, as he kissed my cheek and my neck.

I didn’t want the night to end. Ever.

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“No! You didn’t win.” Claire
pretended to shove Gus a little bit.

“Oh, yeah. We totally won,” he insisted. As it turned out, Gus and Claire were both juniors at Bridgeport High. Since it was a small town, they knew each other pretty well, or at least they’d been in the same schools for years.

“You did not,” I said.

“Did too!” Gus cried.

“The thing about these midnight games of Frisbee tag? Is that everyone wins,” Claire said. “Especially when I have the best player on my team.” She put her arm around my shoulders and we headed toward the bonfire—not that there was much of it left.

“Except when there’s no moon and it’s impossible to see what’s happening,” I added. “Then it’s dangerous.”

“Come on, what’s a sprained ankle, anyway?” Henry asked. “My dad would say it’s character building.”

“So would mine!” added Gus.

“It’s not sprained, anyway. Just slightly twisted.” Sarah pressed her fingers against her ankle. “Actually, it feels fine.”

“Where did Mikayla go?” Henry asked. “She ditched us before the game even started. Then again, a lot of people drifted off, because other than those guys playing Wiffle ball over there, we’re the only ones left.”

“I’m guessing she went home,” I said. “She was pretty tired earlier. She gets up super early in the morning to go running.”

“Well, that’s no fun,” said Sarah. “She’s supposed to be organizing a party at your house, not running.”

I laughed. “Yeah, I kind of heard about this party we’re having. What do I need to know?”

“Why haven’t I heard about it?” Gus asked.

“Because it doesn’t exist yet. Don’t worry, you’re definitely invited,” I told him, then kind of wished I hadn’t said it so loudly. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to invite him, but it sounded like I was asking him out. “I mean, everyone’s invited.”