26 Kisses (10 page)

“Eight and a half?” Mel sighs. “It looked like a pretty freakin’ perfect-ten kiss to me.”

I push the notebook aside. “Mel, I’ve experienced a perfectten kiss. And, as cool as Carson was, that wasn’t it.”

She snorts. “Must be nice.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” She clears her throat. “Never mind. But we need to strategize about your next letters. Do you want to go out for breakfast?”

Fat Snacks leaps onto my bed and snuggles into my side, purring loudly. “Maybe lunch?” I say, stroking his soft fur and hating the idea of getting up again.

“Okay, I’ll come get you in a couple of hours,” Mel says. “In the meantime, do some research.
D
through
Z
.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I say, and end the call. I lie there, intending to get up and keep cleaning my room but instead getting more drowsy with each passing minute, as I tend to do whenever Fat Snacks graces me with his presence. He’s like a warm, furry sleeping pill.

“You’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever had, Fatty,” I say, and close my eyes.

“So let’s hear it,” Mel says, picking at her club sandwich. We’re sitting at an outdoor table at our favorite café on Main Street, watching the tourists flock past. “Who’s on your To Kiss list?”

“Shhh,” I say, glancing around. “Don’t tell all of Butterfield what I’m up to.”

Mel waves her hand dismissively. “They’re too busy buying souvenirs to pay attention to what a couple of townies are talking about.”

I eat a few cucumbers out of my salad. “Am I really going to do this? Pick a guy and go after him just because of the first letter of his name?”

“Yes,” Mel says, in her no-nonsense voice. “And it will be totally worth it in the end.” She tips an ice cube into her mouth and crunches down on it loudly, making me wince. “There are going to be bonfires and beach parties all summer, plus the usual Butterfield tourist trap festivals, so getting out and seeing guys won’t be a problem. And you have
K
all lined up, obviously.” She smiles suggestively.

I shake my head, even though something tells me I wouldn’t have much trouble getting Killian to kiss me if I wanted him to—but there’s no point in obsessing over that right now. “I think I have
J
figured out too.” I bat my eyelashes as Mel leans in eagerly. “Jeffrey.”

“Ugh, gross, Vee.” She wads up her napkin and throws it at me. “That doesn’t count.”

“My dad counted for
B
. And
F
can be Fat Snacks. . . .”

“No!” She laughs. “You’re not allowed to just kiss all the male members of your family.”

“Well, what about—” I’m about to bring up Seth for letter
S
, but I catch myself just in time.

“What about what?” Mel narrows her eyes at me, almost as if she knows what I was about to say.

“Um, what about my stepmom’s big party my dad told us about? It’s this weekend. Maybe I can get a kiss or two there.” The transition is pretty seamless.

Her expression clears. “That’s a great idea. I’ll ask around and see if anyone we know has been invited. It’s supposed to be for her work friends, right?”

“Yeah, and I think they mostly live in Grand Rapids.”

Mel shrugs. “Someone we know has to be there. And if not . . . you’re getting good at making new friends.”

“Why does Vee need new friends?” Seth appears from nowhere, a black shadow against the colorful small-town backdrop. He leans over the railing separating the café patio from the sidewalk and grabs a fry from Mel’s plate.

“I don’t,” I say, giving Mel a warning look. There is absolutely no reason Seth needs to know about the Twenty-Six Kisses thing.

“What are you doing down here?” Mel asks, guarding her remaining fries with her hand.

“Lesson.” Seth pulls out his phone. “I’m late. But do you want to work on the album later?”

I smile blandly, trying to ignore the twinge of jealousy that shows up whenever Mel and Seth talk about “the album.” They’ve been writing and recording songs for a couple of years and will spend hours at a time locked away in Seth’s basement, working on them. If Mark was at a cross-country meet or something, I used to occasionally tag along and pretend to read a magazine or whatever while they talked about chord progressions and fiddled with the temperamental knobs on Seth’s ancient four-track recorder, but there was nothing lonelier than watching the two of them get totally in the zone and forget I was even there.

“Sure.” Mel swirls a fry through the puddle of ketchup on her plate. “I’m not working tomorrow. Text me.”

“See you later.” Seth bops me on the head as he turns to leave.

Mel watches him go and then focuses her eyes on me, the devious look returning to her face.

“You’re not working tomorrow?” I stick out my lower lip. “I thought we were supposed to have all the same days off.”

“Yeah, Dad messed up the schedule. Can you get a ride with your mom?”

“Probably.” I sigh and put on an exaggerated sad face. “But the Float & Boat just won’t be the same without you there.”

Mel laughs. “Stop trying to distract me. Let’s focus on letter
D
. We have options.” She waves her phone at me and taps the screen, studying what I can only presume is a list of her nine hundred Facebook friends. “Danny Bridges . . . he has a girlfriend. Darren Peters . . . I think he’s working as a camp counselor this summer.” She scrolls, her eyes whipping back and forth as she scans the screen. “Dexter Claybourne?”

“Dexter?” We’ve been going to school together since second grade. He’s nice. The oldest of five siblings. Kind of short. “I don’t know. That would be weird.”

“It will not be weird.” Mel puts her phone down on the table, and to my horror I see she’s calling Dexter.

“No, wait—” I reach for the phone, but it’s too late.

“Hello?” He’s on speakerphone. I look around at the other café patrons, praying no one I know decided to come out for a nice lunch.

“Hey, Dex. It’s Mel Flaherty.”

“Oh. Hey, Mel.” Dexter’s voice is deep and gravelly, and, understandably, he sounds a little confused. “What’s up?”

“What are you doing right now?”

“Uh . . . nothing, really. My cousin and I are watching my little sisters.”

Mel looks at me and grins. “At your house?”

I tip sideways in my chair and put my hands over my face. I can’t believe this is happening—Dexter must think she’s a freak.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, don’t go anywhere. See you in a few minutes.”

“Wait, what—”

Mel ends the call and leaps up, pumping her fist. “Okay, let’s go!”

The only place I want to go is home, so I can disappear inside and never come out. “I hope this is one of those things I’ll be able to look back on someday and laugh,” I say, tossing some money onto the table.

“I love your attitude.” Mel grabs my hand and pulls me to the door. “Poor Dexter’s not going to know what hit him.”

By the time Mel pulls up to the curb in front of Dexter’s house, which is right by our old elementary school, my hands are shaking.

“Okay, quick strategy meeting,” Mel says, turning off the ignition. “I think—”

“No.” I open my door and get out of the car, knowing if I put too much thought into what’s about to happen, I won’t be able to go through with it. “Let’s just do this.”

I stride up the sidewalk, Mel racing along after me, and follow the sound of kids shouting to the backyard. A sprinkler and Slip ’N Slide are set up on the grass, and three little girls prance around in their swimsuits, squealing as they run through the sprays of water.

Dexter’s leaning against the deck, talking to a guy who must be his cousin, and he looks up in surprise as we come around the corner of the house. He’s wearing oversize sunglasses and swim trunks. No shirt. I stop short, and Mel crashes into me, gripping my arms as she struggles to keep her balance.

“Hey,” Dexter says. The other guy turns around, and my heart sinks. I don’t know how I could have forgotten, but Dexter is related to Ryan Kelly, one of the guys on Mark’s cross-country team. “What’s going on?”

I freeze, my mind racing, the sick feeling that washes over me in a debate when I’m getting my ass handed to me now settling in my stomach.

“Go!” Mel whispers in my ear and pushes me forward.

I’m fixated on Dexter’s mouth, which I’ve never noticed before. His lips are a little chapped, probably getting sunburned. He should put a hat on.

“Hey, Dexter. Ryan.” I nod, frantically trying to come up with an excuse for why we’re here. I cannot kiss Dexter in front of Ryan—if I do, Mark will find out about it in the time it takes to send one shocked text. But my brain is failing me. I have no notes, no preprepared arguments. I have not practiced for hours in front of a mirror envisioning a situation in which I have backed myself into a corner and must kiss my way out of it.

“Vee wanted to give you something,” Mel says. She grabs my elbow and propels me forward until I’m just a few feet from Dexter. “Right, Vee?”

“Right,” I say.

“Okay . . .” Dexter raises one eyebrow. “What is it?”

Screw Ryan. There’s no backing out now. I step forward and grab Dexter’s arm, suffering a millisecond of panic about the placement of our noses before I mash my lips against his. We’re frozen there for a few seconds, and then I pull away.

“What the . . . ?” Ryan’s jaw drops.

“Run!” Mel says, and takes off across the lawn, me right behind her. As we race toward the car, I hear Dexter’s little sisters start up a gleeful chant. “Dexter and that girl, sitting in a tree.
K-I-S-S-I-N-G
.”

We start laughing as Mel pulls away from the curb, tires squealing in protest on the asphalt.

“I . . . can’t believe . . . I just did that.” I gasp for air as the Buick whips around the corner.

“You were awesome, Vee!” Mel tips back her head and howls. “His face was priceless! I should have videoed it.”

We turn up the radio and drive back to my house, dancing to every dumb song that comes on. My heart is racing, and adrenaline pumps through my body.

“That was a total kiss ambush,” Mel says. “You need, like, a superhero name. The Kamikaze Kisser. The Smooth Smoocher.”

“The Magnificent Macker.” I giggle.

“Who is Dexter’s cousin? Ryan somebody, right?” Mel says.

“Yeah.” I tip my head back against the seat. “He’s on the cross-country team.”

“Oh.” Mel shoots me a worried look. “Does that mean . . . ?”

I nod. “Yeah. Mark probably already knows by now.” For some reason that seems to matter much less than it did fifteen minutes ago. “But it’s fine.”

She cheers. “Vee, I’m so proud of you. You’re back! My girl is
back
!”

“I’m back.” I linger over the words, savoring the way they roll off my tongue. “And I have a lot of boys to kiss.”

I hurry into the house after Mel drops me off, still buzzing on adrenaline, and take the stairs two at a time to my room.

“Okay, time for more cleaning,” I say to myself. If I can walk up to a boy and kiss him, I can keep my room looking like a normal living space and not a bizarre, oversize bird’s nest. My dad did contribute to at least half of my gene pool, so the Cleaning Chromosome must be in there somewhere.