Page 29

*a kiss, for pickle’s sake*

“W HOA .” J ACKSON CAUGHT ME —literally—when I fell, his arms wrapping around me in an accidental hug as my feet touched the ground. “You okay?”

I looked up at his face and nodded, my heart racing as I tried to get a grip on the billions of thoughts that were bouncing around in my head. But all I could see was bright blue eyes moving over my face to make sure that I was fine.

That I was safe.

Eyes that belonged to the boy who was willing to give up all four of his wishes so I could have just one.

Wasn’t I mad at him for something? I was pretty sure I was, but I couldn’t remember now. Not when he smelled like that—a hint of soap and Jackson—and watched me like he was waiting to see what came next.

“You were going to give it all back,” I said, blinking fast.

Neither of us was moving away from the other. “For me. Why?”

His throat moved around a swallow, like he was nervous or considering denying it, but then he said, “Because I wanted my best friend to get hers.”

His words filled me with warm happiness, the emotional equivalent of being served hot, gooey cinnamon rolls on a cold winter morning. It was impossible for me to not smile as I looked up at him, at the one person who always got me.

My very best friend in the whole world.

And as he grinned back at me, I wanted to give him something. I wanted my best friend to get his wish.

It felt like my heart was going to beat out of my chest as I looked up into those eyes and forced myself to say it, even though it felt absolutely terrifying to be so bold.

“Have you ever wished that you could get your first kiss out of the way without embarrassing yourself?” I asked quietly, my voice coming out tight and a little bit hoarse. He was looking at me like he wanted to read my mind, his eyes everywhere on my face.

I’d never been this bravely audacious in my entire life.

I’d always imagined the guy would take the lead, sweeping me into his arms and teaching me how amazing kissing could be.

Well, actually, I rotated between that imagining and the very real possibility that I would do something terribly embarrassing, like accidentally bite his tongue or make a weird sound with my lips.

I was so nervous that it felt like my entire body was trembling as I looked at Jackson, but I wasn’t going to back down.

Not tonight, not with this.

He swallowed again, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and I swear his eyes were bluer than normal as they met mine and he said, “I have wished that.”

“I mean, it kind of makes sense,” I said, my voice almost a whisper, it was so quiet. “For two best friends to knock out their first terrible one together, right?”

I heard him take a breath, like he was shocked or nervous, and his voice was a little gravelly when he said, “That makes more sense than anything I’ve ever heard in my entire life.”

“So…?” I said, moving my nervous hands up onto his shoulders.

“So let’s do this, Rockford.” Jackson’s voice set a thousand butterflies loose in my stomach. His eyes were all I could see. Long lashes, dark brows, so much blue. My heart was beating out of my chest when he brought his hands up to my cheeks, because the soft touch of his fingers on my skin as he held me in place felt more intimate than a hug.

And when he lowered his face toward mine— man, he’s so tall —I wondered if anyone in the world had ever felt this way before.

Too warm, too cold, too scared, too bold, too happy, too everything.

I felt everything at once and it was exhilarating.

For half a second I wanted to stop, afraid of messing up, but then I heard his shaky inhale, and the space between us disappeared into nothing. My eyes slid closed, and electricity buzzed through me.

Jackson Matthews was going to kiss me.

The sounds of the world went fuzzy, like I was a mile underwater, and all I could hear was my heart pounding in my ears and the slow sound of his breathing as Jackson angled his head and his mouth landed on mine.

His lips were surprisingly soft as he kissed me like it was something he’d been dying to do. His fingers tensed on my face, like he was being zapped with the same electrical current that was running through me, but then I couldn’t think about the individual sensations at all anymore because his tongue touched mine and I was fully electrocuted.

Please don’t let me mess this up.

I don’t know what I’d expected, but it wasn’t for the kiss to feel so right , like we knew what we were doing. Please let it feel that way for Jackson. Because we were kissing like it was the final scene of a rom-com. Jackson’s mouth seemed to know exactly what it was supposed to do, and my mouth only wanted to follow and do exactly what his lips were doing.

“For pickle’s sake, kids,” I heard, “knock it off!”

Jackson and I jumped apart.

Hamburger Man was standing beside us with his hands on his hips, shaking his head.

But he was smiling, like we were ridiculous.

“I—I, um,” I stammered, embarrassed. I looked over his bald head and realized— what? —we were home. He’d dropped us on the street in front of our houses, but we hadn’t even noticed.

“She fell out of the truck,” Jackson said calmly, and if it weren’t for the pink on his cheeks, I would’ve thought he was totally chill. “And I caught her.”

“With your lips,” Hamburger Man said. “Right.”

Jackson looked at me then, but instead of things being awkward, his mouth slid into a huge grin. “Right.”

I laughed—I couldn’t help it as I said, “Right.”

Hamburger Man mumbled something indecipherable about irritants , then hopped into the truck and drove away.

We were left standing in the middle of the quiet road, looking at each other with stupid grins. Jackson said, “Did that really just happen?”

“What, the kiss?” I asked, hoping he didn’t regret it.

“Well, the kiss for sure, but I mean everything ,” he clarified, still smiling, which was a relief. “Did that really all happen?”

“I think so…?” I shrugged and said, “You know we can never tell anyone without sounding nuts, right?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he said, nodding. “Who’d believe us?”

“No one.”

“That’s right, no one.” He reached out a hand and tugged on my hair. “I’m sorry about your wishes, but I’m glad you didn’t get number one, by the way.”

“You are? ” My cheeks were instantly hot, and I wanted to die that he even remembered that wish—chest, hair, height—much less had an opinion on it.

A look of panic crossed his face, now as red as mine surely was, as he said, “I mean the part about your hair.”

“Oh,” I said, smiling in spite of my mortification. “My hair?”

He nodded. “I like the color of your hair.”

“You do?”

He nodded again. Swallowed. Said, “I should probably get home now.”

I nodded. Tucked my hair behind my ears, which were also hot now, and said, “Yeah, me, too. Thanks for the whole, um, wish fiasco thing.”

“It was the best day I’ve ever had,” he said, absolutely without a bit of teasing.

That cinnamon roll feeling was back as I admitted, “Yeah. Same.”