One, Two, Three by David Berlinski

Author:David Berlinski [Berlinski, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-37985-6
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2011-05-09T16:00:00+00:00

17.

He’s going to ask me if he can kiss me. That’s it. My first real kiss. My entire body stiffens. What if I suck? I have no idea where to put my lips. Do they stay closed or open? And is he going to know, and ask himself why wasn’t I ever kissed before?

Becca and Emilia don’t have the same theories about why I’ve never been kissed.

Emilia thinks it’s because I’m too obsessed with ballet to let anything or anyone distract me. And yes, she has a point. But if I’m 100 percent honest with myself, Becca may be right. I’m too afraid of letting someone get too close to me, and meeting people just to try it out was a bit difficult when I would have to dance with them for years ahead. Nick, Emilia’s boyfriend now, almost kissed me at a party, but he was in denial about his feelings for her, he wanted an escape from his drama and from his fears. He liked me but I’ve never felt that way around him, I’ve never seen the fire in his eyes and I’ve never wanted to completely lose and find myself with him.

Tonio clears his throat, “Can I ask you a question?” he repeats. I nod, not entirely trusting my voice.

“Why don’t you drive? Is it because of the accident?”

My eyes widen, and I suck in a breath. Well, I guess kissing isn’t currently an option. But I’m more wondering why that even came up to him.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because I’ve noticed how you get nervous before getting into a car. Even now, it’s like you have an entire procedure of checking and touching the door twice before even opening it. Then it takes you a few seconds to actually get into it, and you seem lost in space.”

“I get lost in my thoughts. I have replays of the accident every time I get into a car. But it’s getting better. Anyway, I don’t even have my driver’s license. I didn’t need it in the city.”

“How about you try now?”

My heart hammers, threatening to jump out of my chest in the grand jeté I can no longer do myself.

“I don’t think so,” I reply. “I can’t. I really can’t.”

“Only one step, you come here.” He points to his seat, then his own. “I’ll sit there.”

“Why do you want to do that?”

“Because you helped me the other day when we talked. And because I think you want to.”

I shake my head, impressed by his reading of me. I wish I could drive. I wish I would not let the accident define me in every single way. I wish I would apply another Russian proverb Papa used to say. Something about being courageous. About trusting people.

“Come on, Natacita. It’s only you and me,” he says, and I bore my eyes into his. He smiles, a real smile. Not his grin that I’ve grown to love seeing on him. This smile’s a bit more tender. It does things to my heart that even ballet’s never done.

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