Grace giggles, “Would you stop it? You’re making me nervous about it for you. You take all the fun out of everything with your overanalyzing. You won’t be thinking about any of that when it happens, trust me.”
And I do trust her. She knows firsthand. Grace had her first kiss this summer. It was nothing romantic—it was during a game of spin the bottle—but she’d gotten it out of the way and once she did she was free of the worry. She wound up making out with one of her brother’s friends a few weeks later, and based on her description, the second time around was nothing like the tonsil hockey that took place during the childish game.
“Does your mom keep oranges in the house?” Her odd question confuses me.
“Yes, why?”
“Come, let’s go down and cut one up. They say if you practice on an orange you’ll know what to expect.” She jumps off the bed and jerks my arm to pull me towards the door.
“Grace, are you serious? That sounds ridiculous. I’m not tonguing a freaking orange.”
“It’s either you make out with a piece of fruit or I call my brother over here to help your cause. Which one?” She stares me down with her hands on her hips.
I contemplate telling her to go get her brother. He’s cute; it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. But Tony’s like a big brother to me too and I don’t want to make things awkward between us, even if that awkwardness would save me the embarrassment of first kiss awkwardness.
“Orange it is. No offense to your brother, or anything.”
“None taken.”
She pulls me down the carpeted steps. The same steps we used to race down on our butts. When did we grow up? Seems like yesterday we were tumbling down this flight of stairs for ice cream sundaes in my kitchen. Now I’m headed in there to learn how to kiss...an orange.
Grace cuts the orange into two halves. She hands one to me and licks up the juice dripping down her half. As I watch her, I can’t help but cringe. I cannot believe I’m about to do this.
“Ready?”
How do you ready yourself to make out with a piece of produce? “Um, not really. But...”
“But nothing! Come on, you prude. Bring it up to your mouth and put your tongue in there.”
“Do I close my eyes?”
“Sure. Whatever floats your boat. Just do it already.”
Never has an orange been so intimidating. I take a deep breath in, smelling the pungent citrus sweetness. I imagine Noah in front of me. Instead of the juicy tang, his breath will be minty, his cologne addicting. I close my eyes and pucker up. I allow my tongue to travel over the cold, wet flesh of the orange, circling and poking around, the way Grace described. This is one sticky smooch, I hope when it’s a real live boy—when it’s Noah—that he will react to my touch, unlike this inanimate object.
I open my eyes, mouth still attached to my stand-in boyfriend, and catch Grace doing the same thing. A moment later her eyes flash open too. We stare at each other before laughing so hard we fall to the floor, gripping our sides. This might very well be the most degrading thing I’ve done to date.
“So, what did you think?” Grace says, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
“I hope to God that when I finally kiss Noah Matheson, I won’t be thinking about this damn orange.”
After my audacious behavior back at the Country Club, I’ve earned myself an escort to the continuation of our high school reunion . Instead of taking two separate cars, Noah has offered to follow me home to drop off my car, where I’ll hop in with him and die as I sit next to him in his passenger seat.
I almost faint when I see his ride. I’d gotten used to Declan’s flashy need for a luxury automobile, and he always looked sexy behind the wheel of his black Mercedes Benz, but when Noah steps onto the running board of his rugged Silverado pick-up truck, my mouth nearly hits the floor. A tough manly car for a rough manly man. Does the car speak for the rest of him? I wonder what he’s like in...what am I getting myself into?
He follows me to my quiet, tree-lined street and I park in the driveway. The house looks so deserted. All the lights are out. No one’s home. The girls are staying with my parents for the night. Besides the reunion , they recognized my need for some me time. I’ve been playing single parent now for too long. When they offered I didn’t even hesitate to take them up on it. I needed this break.
Little did I know that this break would turn into this. I start to feel guilty about the possible betrayal on my family. But it won’t come to that. I can control myself. We’ll be in a room full of people. I’m not about to cheat on my husband with a bunch of witnesses to my marital felony.