Page 153 of The Long Way Home

I’ve made her go like this since the first time I kissed her.

Thought about that kiss a lot lately. Don’t know why. Just been rolling around my head.

The summer Parks and me started up, my parents took us all to St. Barts for two weeks before school went back. And when I say all, I mean all. Me, Henry, Parks, Bridget, all my sisters, Jonah, Christian, Paili and Perry. Parks and Bridge used to come away with us most trips, that wasn’t strange. Our parents were close and at the time, Arrie was going through what Magnolia refers to as the “Lagerfeld Phase” (lots of black, sunglasses, no smiling), which was also what my mum refers to as her “Lustral Phase.”

I don’t know why my parents did it. Honestly, it must have been pure insanity watching us all.

Everyone got there before me and Jo because we had to stay back for some rugby training shit. I’d already been in love with Magnolia since I was a kid in that stupid, abstract way you are when you’re small. Not real at all, felt real, didn’t know what real was back then. Never felt like I could act on it because she was so fucking obsessed with Christian back then.

Jonah gassed me up on the flight over. Told me Christian wasn’t keen — he wasn’t either, at least I didn’t know he was at the time. So I don’t know whether it was Jonah or the drinks we had on the plane on the way over, but I decided I wanted it and I was going for it this trip.

I remember walking into our living room and I swear to god, I can’t think of this moment without Mylo Xyloto blasting out my heart. She was next to Christian on the couch. Little yellow string bikini, legs folded under her, pressed up against him, but the second I walked in she sat up straighter. I don’t know why, don’t know what changed. Waited for her to sit up straighter when I walked into a room since I was six.

She uncrossed her legs and it was the first time our eyes caught in that way that they do. They haven’t stopped since. My eyes fell down her body before I dragged them back up to her face, gave her a shy smile.

She jumped up and bounced over to us, hugged Jonah first and then, while still hugging Jo, she turned and looked at me.

“Hi BJ.” She smiled up at me.

Pointed at myself, eyebrows up like I was offended. “I don’t get a hug?”

She beamed up at me, triumphant that her little plan worked, then she tossed her arms around my neck and I wrapped mine around her waist. Lifted her off the ground to make sure she knew I was strong and she squealed a bit, squeezed me tighter.

That whole next week… it plays on my mind like a reel.

These long days and late nights, stupid sunsets that weren’t half as good as her face was. Touched her in the most benign ways every chance I had. Put my arm around her chair anytime we were sitting at a table, bent my body around her to reach for some fruit, wrestled her for the remote even though we wanted to watch the same thing. Drank from her cup for no reason. Took her phone off her and held it over her head so she’d jump all over me to reach it. We’d play tennis and I’d help her with her swing even though her swing was better than mine and she’s had professional lessons since she was five. Climbed everything in sight to impress her. Scaled the house, palm trees, cliffs, the mast on boats, anything I could as long as she was watching me. She’d yell at me to get down and I liked the feeling of her worrying about me. I threw her off the side of yachts and would jump in after her. Put her on the back of a jet ski and drive like a fucking maniac so she’d hold me tight. As the first week dripped into the second, I got braver with how I’d try to touch her. Dove in a pool and went to hug her while she was laying in the sun. Grabbed her hand in a crowd. Pulled her onto my lap when we’d watch a film at night and there wasn’t enough space. There was always enough space. I just wanted to hold her.

We’d kissed before. Seven minutes in heaven a year before. We don’t count it as our first kiss because nothing happened afterwards and it felt pretend. I was fourteen, she was thirteen. The seven minutes were deeply under-utilised. A closed mouth kiss and a lot of nervous chatter on both our parts. She actually asked me if I thought Christian would be angry at her and it crushed me at the time. So, not our first kiss.

I was in my head about kissing her proper though. I knew I had to do it before we went back to school. And by that point in the trip, I was pretty sure she fancied me.

I don’t know whose idea it was, but we wound up playing spin the bottle.

Jo spun, he got me straight of the gate. Pecked him and everyone laughed. Christian spun, he got Paili. Perry spun, he got Parks. Henry spun, he got Parks too — they scrunched their faces up and closed their eyes. Their mouths barely touched.

And then it was my turn. I spun it and I was praying, literally begging the heavens for the bottle to land on Magnolia, but it didn’t. It landed very clearly on Paili.

“Paili,” Perry jeered.

And I stood up, looked at the bottle. Shook my head. “It’s Magnolia.”

Paili frowned.

Christian pulled a face. “It’s obviously Paili.”

I locked eyes with Parks, shook my head. “Nah, it’s Parks.” First time I ever called her that.

I remember Magnolia looking down at the bottle to double check like she might have gotten it wrong the first time.

I walked over towards the bottle and slowly moved it with my foot until it was pointing to Magnolia. “Parks.”

I walked over to her.

“Stand up,” I told her.

She swallowed, stood. Cheeks were pink straight away. She was standing there, eyes wide, arms heavy at her side. I slipped one hand around her waist and with the other I took her face and then I kissed the shit out of her. So much more than I needed to. There were a few natural gaps for the kiss to wrap up but I didn’t take one of them. Forgot we were in front of our friends, the genesis of it all fading to black — me and her in the backyard of our house on that island, my hand in her hair, her hands on my chest — might as well have signed my life away in the moment. Never again would a day go by where I didn’t think of her, where she wasn’t my very waking thought. Maybe that’s unhealthy, maybe that’s fucked up, or maybe I just love her how someone like her deserves to be loved. I don’t know.

I’d probably still be kissing her to this very day if Jonah didn’t yell, “Get a fucking room.” Magnolia pulled away giggling and I fought off a smile. Took her hand, asked her to go for a dander.