I stand there for a moment. George’s hand is cupped under her bottom like he’s done this a thousand times. Yardley is transformed from the funny, practical girl I know into an experienced woman, someone with the courage to push her boyfriend against the house and run her hand up his stomach to his chest, like she knows what makes him feel good.
She turns. “Carrie, go on without me,” she says. “I’m going to hunt for lemons with George. ’Kay?”
“Hunt for lemons, that’s a good thing to call it,” says George, low and laughing.
“This is my house,” says Yardley. “You wanna see my room?”
I turn and run into the dark walkways of the island.
21.
I AM HEADING along the perimeter path that curves around the island, going toward the Big Beach, when I run into Pfeff.
“Ahoy,” I call as he comes into sight.
“Oh, ack. You scared me.”
“How’s your hunt?”
He shows me a basket with two lemons. “Terrible. I lost George and then I lost Major and— I don’t know. There are like no lemons anywhere. It’s possible I need glasses. I should get myself tested. Do you want to give me hints?”
“I didn’t hide them.” In the moonlight, his skin is glowing. I’m suddenly aware of the straps on my dress, the feeling of my hair down my back, the braces on my teeth, the balm on my lips.
“You didn’t?” he says. “You gave that speech and seemed so impressive and official, I thought you would know all the secret places.”
“Nope.”
We are standing at a spot where the path traverses a rocky ledge. Over the edge, far below, waves hit dark rocks. Pfeff leans against the railing and peers down. “This is a dangerous spot.”
I lean over the rail beside him. His bare arm is inches from mine. “When we were little,” I tell him, “we were forbidden to go on this path alone. In case we’d get the idea to climb the barrier.”
He leans out a little farther. “It makes you feel alive, though. Am I right?”
I lean out and feel a spike of adrenaline stab me.
“Should I climb up?” asks Pfeff. “Just to see how it feels to be in mortal danger?”
“Don’t be a fool.”
“Oh.” He sounds chastened. “Okay.”
“I’m all about water safety,” I say. “The cool kids all care about water safety.”
“Ha.” He grins. “You’re clever. You know that?”
“Sometimes.”
Pfeff looks at me. His thin white T-shirt is loose at the neck and shows his collarbone. His eyes flash.
He leans down, slowly, and when I realize he is going to kiss me, I cannot move, I’m so surprised. He brushes his lips ever so softly across mine. It feels like a feather against my mouth, so light. When he pulls away, I can still feel the spot where we touched.
I have never been kissed before. It’s like diving into cold water, like
eating a raspberry, like
listening to a flute, and it’s like none of those things.
“I adore clever people,” Pfeff says, his voice low. “And with the moonlight, and all the danger, and the lemons, and everyone in white, I feel like I’m in a movie or something. Don’t you?”
“Not really,” I say. “This is my regular life.”
“You’re like a girl from a movie,” whispers Pfeff. “I had to kiss you. Because look at where we are. Right?” He gestures at the sea, the sky, the moon. “It would be a shame to waste it.” He tilts his head and cracks a smile. “I hope that wasn’t gross or anything.”
“No,” I say. “It wasn’t gross.”
“Oh, good.”
I reach my hand up around his neck and kiss him back then, standing on tiptoe. His neck is warm beneath my fingers, and suddenly, my mouth is no longer defective,
scarred,
infected,
inadequate,
as it has seemed ever since I first learned I needed jaw surgery. Instead, my mouth is all connection and
sensation.
Pfeff leans into me and parts his lips, sliding his hand up my waist to my chest. I am floating and dizzy with this new feeling. He moans, softly, and kisses me a little harder, his breath hot.
And then it is over. He pulls back and smiles. “I should go,” he whispers.
“Okay.” I am stunned and disoriented. I don’t know what people do after suddenly kissing in the moonlight. I don’t want him to go.
“Did you forget there’s a lemon hunt going on?” Pfeff asks.