French Kissing (Restless Hearts) by Keane Hunter J

Author:Keane, Hunter J. [Keane, Hunter J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-12-21T08:00:00+00:00

NOVEMBER

November 12

Do you remember that time in high school when I had a huge crush on Steve Neilson? That senior with the perfect smile and “one-in-a-million” arm? I made you got to every baseball game that season. And when prom rolled around, I was certain he was going to ask me. I had been flirting with him every day for six months straight, letting him copy my physics homework every morning.

Then I found out he was going with Mellie Kingston, but he said they were just friends. So I was sure that meant he still liked me. I ended up going to prom with Jake Allis, but in my heart I was sure I would end the night in Steve’s arms on the dance floor. In my head, it played out just like a Ringwald movie.

They announce the prom king and queen and Steve takes the stage next to some pretty blond. Just before they start to play the music for the royalty dance, Steve grabs the mic and professes his love for me. We melt into each other’s arms and kiss romantically…

Yeah. Twenty minutes into prom, I caught him in the corner going at it with Mellie.

He never talked to me again after that night.

You’re probably wondering why I’m bringing this up after so many years. It was such a silly thing for me to hold onto. But I hold onto it anyway because I’ve always thought that when I find the one, the person I’m meant to be with, it will feel just like that dream. It might not happen that way, especially since I doubt I’ll ever be attending a prom again, but I believe that it will be like one of those moments in the movie where the leading character realizes they have to do something bold, right then and there, or risk losing the other person forever.

And now I don’t feel like such a fool for holding onto that dream for all these years, because that exact thing happened to me last night.

* * *

Jake never called me back. I couldn’t really blame him though. He’d done nothing but try to be there for me since the beginning of our friendship and I’d done nothing but push him away. I caught a couple of his matches on television and he was struggling. Compared to the match Macy and I had gone to, he looked like a different player.

When I wasn’t busy obsession over Jace’s every swing, I was busy sketching. I filled three different pads with my designs and after a lot of internal debate and hesitation, I finally showed them to Evelyn.

She didn’t throw her arms up in defeat, whaling that my work made hers look like childish drawings. But she also didn’t say they were crap. She studied them carefully, picked one from the pile, and said, “This one is better than mediocre. This one I can do something with. It’s going in the show.”

The “show” was Evelyn’s event on Saturday night to raise money for her charity.

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