Who I Kissed (2 page)

Dad is cranky and uncommunicative in the car, but instead of asking what Aunt Allie was calling about, I decide to let his mood improve before springing my news on him. At home I throw my swimsuit over the shower stall in my bathroom. Dad’s room has an awesome master bath. Our new house in Tadita is a bungalow, but the bedrooms are big and it has a finished basement. It’s nicer than the house we left behind in Orlie.

I’m broiling chicken and boiling brown rice when Dad walks into the kitchen and sits on a stool in front of the marble-top island.

“Thanks for making dinner.” Neither of us are good cooks, but we’ve taken turns since I was old enough to use the stove. Tonight was supposed to be his night to cook, but I had an ulterior motive. Besides, even though it’s not fancy, food usually tastes better when it’s made by me.

“So there’s a party tonight.” I open the microwave door, stick my finger in the bowl to see if the frozen peas are hot, and pull my hand back quickly. “Taylor Landy texted me. It’s at her house. My swim team will be there.”

“Taylor the breaststroker?” Dad walks to the fridge but reaches over the top of it to the cupboard where he keeps his liquor. He pulls out a bottle of red wine. “Kind of short notice.”

“It’s a last-minute thing.” I scoot around him as he searches the drawer in front of me for the corkscrew and reach around him to take the plastic veggie steamer from the microwave, carrying it to the kitchen table and removing the lid. Steam bursts up and warms my face. “And Taylor’s a person with a brain and an identity. She’s not just a stroke.”

“You know what I mean,” he says. Sometimes he forgets that inside my head is a normal seventeen-year-old girl. Not just a swimmer. He doesn’t know that in my daydreams I have an imaginary boyfriend who has a face that looks a lot like Zee’s.

“She’s nice.” In fact, Taylor is everything I’m not outside of the pool, which is probably why Clair made us travel buddies. On road trips we room together. She’s peppy and happy and blurts out almost every thought that crosses her mind. She’s gorgeous, with thick, long blond hair most girls would kill for. She’s also hot and heavy with Justin Spritz, the second hottest swimmer on the Titans. Second to Zee.

My life would be so much easier if I were more like her.

Dad raises an eyebrow as he pulls the cork from his wine bottle and grabs a glass. “Her parents going to be there?” he asks, watching me closely as he pours out the wine.

“No,” I say honestly and wrinkle my nose at the bitter smell he loves so much. “Her dad is in Europe on business and her mom went with him.” There’s no point in lying. At my age, parents are rarely home for parties and we both know it. “She has an older brother. But he’s in Arizona. Playing hockey.”

Dad shakes his head. “That makes as much sense as an outdoor swim team in Alaska.” He sips at his wine and taps his fingers on the counter. “You won’t be drinking? You don’t have a practice tomorrow, but liquor would throw you off your game.” He takes another sip. “Plus, there’s the whole illegal thing.”

“I know, Dad. It’s not like I’m a big drinker.” I stare at his glass, wondering if the irony is lost on him, but he just nods with a slight smile as if he’s proud he’s done something right with me.

Most of the time, I’m so responsible that I’m an embarrassment to my age group. Eating healthy, swimming, and working out. On a wild night I might go see a movie. My idea of rebelling is to not shower the chlorine out of my hair after a practice but hanging out with Dad every weekend has lost its charm. Even he knows I need diversions besides my fourteen hours of training a week. Gillian, my best friend from Orlie, is never around to Skype with anymore. She’s hanging out with new friends. I guess it’s hard to have a virtual BFF for too long when you have other options. My weekends in Tadita have been so lonely, I almost convinced Dad to get us a dog. And he’s secretly afraid of them.

Honestly, the idea of going to a party alone makes me feel nauseous, and I have a strong pang of longing for my old swim team. At least when people thought I was gay, I never had to worry about boys. They weren’t interested in me.

“All right,” Dad says. “Go to the party. Just be responsible.”

***

I take a deep breath on the front porch, fighting the voices in my head telling me to turn and flee to safety. The wind gusts up and lifts my skirt, and I shiver at the sudden change in temperature. If I don’t go in, Taylor might take it the wrong way and give up asking. As if she’s psychic, Taylor opens the front door. She’s holding a beer, and as I shift from foot to foot her eyes focus on me and she squeals loudly and pulls me inside with her free hand.

“OhMYGODIcan’tbelieveyoucameIdidn’tthinkyouwouldcomeI’msogladyou’rehere.” She doesn’t even take a breath. Her amazing hair is piled into a messy but cute ponytail with strands pointing out in every direction. She throws both arms around me and squeezes tightly. I’ve gotten used to her hugging addiction. Usually there’s something about the intimacy of touching other people so closely that makes me uncomfortable.

“You look freaking hot!” From the smell of her breath, she’s clearly already started drinking. She wiggles her finger and pokes it right in my face. “Are you really gay?”

I’ve heard liquor is a truth serum, and it appears to be true in Taylor’s case. “No,” I tell her. “A rumor from my old team. It was never true.”

“I KNEW IT! ORLIE SWIMMERS ARE TOTAL LIARS!” she yells. “Look out, boys!” She lifts her arm and performs an invisible lasso twirl over her head. And just like that—boom—I’m straight.

“Um. You have a mirror, right?” I say to her and smile, even though having my fake lesbian shield ripped off is a little unnerving.

She stumbles a little and giggles, pulling up her strapless mini dress that is so tight and short I’m a little afraid for its safety.

In comparison to Taylor, my black skirt and white tank top are boring and desperately in need of accessorizing. I suck at putting outfits together. I’m too broad in the shoulders and too tall to pull off a look like Taylor’s anyhow. The fact that Taylor rocks at swimming but has a tiny and narrow build makes me hate her. Just a little.

Taylor shouts again and pushes me past an enormous and very formal front hallway. She throws her hands out like a game show hostess and jokes, “Welcome to my mother’s perfect house. Please do not break any of her china!”

I flinch a little at her volume, wondering why drinking makes some people hard of hearing, but Taylor giggles and propels me into the open area with the living room, dining room, and kitchen all attached. Everything looks expensive, even with the rooms vibrating with loud music. Other kids lounge around, sipping from plastic cups. They’re draped over chairs in the living room and lean against counters in the kitchen, chatting and laughing and confident. They look fashionable and sophisticated, and my dorkiness seems to flourish and multiply.

I spot most of the senior swim team around and recognize a few other kids from school too. Mostly I don’t know anyone’s name. Eyes pass over me, and I imagine they’re judging me and my outfit. My lame hair. Even the braid that I love so much. Suddenly everything about me feels awkward.

Taylor giggles and throws an arm around my shoulder. “Don’t tell Clair I was drinking.” I open my mouth to promise when Justin comes along, waves to me, and swoops her away.

I close my mouth. A rope of panic knots my insides. I glance around, feeling stupid, and think maybe staying home with my dad wasn’t such a bad idea after all. I’m about to set off to find a washroom to hide in when a hand touches my back. It’s Zee. I jump and barely hold in a scream of happiness.

Yeah. I’m cool like that.

He towers above me, playfully nudging me in the side with his elbow. “Not often I see you in clothes, Sammy W.”

“True,” I manage, and my puppy-dog enthusiasm evaporates as I try to think of something else to say and come up with exactly nothing. Clearly I’m not good at bantering while clothed.

“I was hoping you’d come,” he says, and I notice that he’s wearing more clothes than usual too, a black T-shirt and plaid shorts. He’s got a shark tooth strung around his neck, and normally that might look lame, but with his dark, tousled beach hair, it works. He’s completely and utterly gorgeous.

Zee puts his hand on my arm, and my skin tingles under his fingers. Suddenly my tongue gets too big for my mouth and I’m incapable of speech. My cheeks warm.

“You want a drink?” Zee asks, smiling at me and flipping his hair back from his eyes.

“Straight Jack? Scotch on the rocks? Shot of tequila from my belly?” A good-looking boy with whitish-blond curls pops his head over Zee’s shoulder. He smiles at me and says something in Zee’s ear, and the two of them laugh.

“I don’t drink,” I mumble, wincing inwardly at my party fail. Why can’t I do the sexy banter thing here?

Zee points to the boy hanging over his shoulder. “Have you met Casper?”

Casper smiles the lazy grin of the self-assured. With his perfect hair and lean, tanned face, he reminds me of a Disney kid. “You’re in Advanced English with me,” he says. “And you beat me on the first exam.” He narrows his eyes playfully. “I hope you’re not planning to steal away my spot for valedictorian. There’s a trophy, you know.” He lifts my hand and presses his lips against my palm. Shivers go up my spine. “I love trophies.”

Zee knocks his hand away. “Stay away from this guy. He’s smart, but he’s a horn dog.”

“You up for a challenge?” His mouth turns into a lopsided grin, and his voice cracks and rises a little at the end of his sentence. “I could use some fresh competition.” Casper winks at me and I can’t help grinning. I may suck in social situations, but I’m pretty confident about my grades.

Embracing my inner nerd, I’m warmed by the delicious anticipation of getting better grades than the smartest kid in the class. But I’m not the type to brag about it.

“Dude,” Zee says. “Party. This is a party. We don’t talk about grades here.” He slugs Casper on the shoulder. “Casper thinks having the highest GPA is something we admire about him. That and his big allowance.”

“What can you do? When you got it, you got it,” Casper pleads.

“Don’t worry, we all know it.” He smiles at me. “Even the new girl.”

A girl crashes into Zee from behind him then, and he turns to steady her. She giggles and whispers in his ear and keeps touching his arm. He glances at me and makes a face she can’t see, but he can’t shake her. I have an urge to push her to the ground. Hard.

Casper is diverted by a beautiful girl in a short black dress who slides up into his side, wobbling a little on her heels. She looks kind of pissed off about something.

“Longest bathroom break ever,” he says to her, and the two of them walk away, their heads together, whispering.

I’m kind of abandoned and feel myself disappearing. I’m about to slip away from Zee and the flirty girl when fingers touch my elbow. Zee spins me around and lightly pushes me along.

“Come on.” I note the open mouth on the flirty girl but feign innocence as he directs me through the kitchen. He bends down and expertly opens a cooler without stopping, swooping up a bottle in his hand and presenting it to me. It’s water. I smile, relieved to have something to do with my hands as he leads me past a dark wooden kitchen table to a patio door and slides it open. We step outside. Instantly the humid, claustrophobic air disappears and I breathe a little easier. He stumbles but corrects himself right away.

“You don’t go to many parties?” he says, as he slides the door closed, but it’s not so much a question as a statement. The night air is cold, but the deck is covered and the temperature is tolerable.

“Not really.”

“They didn’t have them at your old school?”

“We had parties. They just weren’t so…”

“Fun?” he says with a grin.

“Grown up,” I say and glance down. “We didn’t drink. My friends back home. Swim people. Who can afford hangovers?” In the distance the wind howls.

“True. But this is a swim-free weekend.” Zee takes a sip from the beer bottle as if to make his point, studying me as if I’m an exotic or weird beast. “All swimming and no fun makes Sammy a dull girl.”

I tug at my braid. He thinks I’m dull. And of course he’s completely right. I’m a lump of fun-suck. Sucking the fun out of everything is my specialty.

“Hey,” he says. “Don’t look so down. I’m kidding. You don’t have to drink to be cool.” He lifts his bottle and grins. “But I do. Seriously, how often do we get a Saturday night with no swim meet? What Clair doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” His expression changes to a conspiring smile as if we share a naughty secret. His eyes are shiny, and I realize he’s probably drunker than he seems. “I bet you’re probably still sugar buzzed on Jelly Bellys.”

“I have a high tolerance for the Bellys,” I tell him. “Thanks.” I try to stop my smile, but it stretches over my face.

“Yeah.” He takes a swig of beer. “Swimmers see-food diet. I know a lot of girls would kill to eat like you and still be in shape.”

He’s right. Swimming builds an appetite. Despite a big supper, I’d wolfed down a sandwich right before the party.

Zee takes a step closer. I hold my breath, waiting. For what? Something. My heart trips, not quite believing I’m alone outside with Zee. At a party. And he’s standing so close to me I can smell his skin. Even the beer on his breath. It’s so much more intimate than standing beside him on the pool deck, even though at the pool both of us are nearly naked. Here, I’m a girl. Not just a swimmer.

He reaches over and tucks my braid behind my ear.

“You’re sexy,” he says.

I struggle to breathe. “I am not.”

“Yes. You are.” His voice is soft. “All the guys think so. You’re different. Not all fake like some girls.”

I shake my head with a little too much force, trying to cover how much I want to throw myself at him. His words thrill me. It’s so foreign having a boy’s interest, and yet here I am, wondering if his lips will taste like chlorine.

He leans even closer and strokes the skin on my bicep. Goose bumps cover my arm. “Strong but soft inside.” His slow, easy smile has so much promise. I press my lips tight and suck in my breath, waiting for his mouth to move closer to mine, wanting him to so bad it makes me dizzy.