“Oh,” I said.
“You sound surprised.”
“No, I just thought that he was going to be here, too.”
“I figured maybe it’d be better if we didn’t have a chaperone this time around. You hungry?”
“Yeah, I could go for something. Maybe not fried food, though.”
“I know a good place.”
The place ended up being a little place called the Blackbird Tavern. It was rustic and comfortable. I got a chef’s salad, and we shared an order of mozzarella sticks. Our conversation ranged from bikes, to how I was liking Chapin so far, to Declan. First, what a good kid he was and how much I was enjoying getting to see him at school. When there was a pause, though, I felt comfortable enough to ask Cole about Declan’s mother.
“So,” I said, “you don’t have to get into the details if you don’t want to, but is Declan’s mother in the picture at all?”
It was hard to read the expression on his face. He set his fork down and took a sip of his water.
“She’s not,” he said finally. “It’s not really something that I talk about.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “You don’t have to get into it. I shouldn’t be prying like that.”
“It’s okay. I don’t mean it like that. It’s just... things didn’t work out the way anyone thought they were going to.” He seemed like he was about to say something else, but then stopped.
“That’s true,” I said. “So much so that it almost makes me not want to make plans, like ever, because it seems like it’s just going to get completely messed up if you do. My dad took off when I was little.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I was young enough that I don’t even remember him, and my mother doesn’t have any pictures. She was pretty young when she had me, still a teenager, so it was definitely hard on her when he left. Not that it wouldn’t be hard on anyone, at any age,” I added quickly, not wanting him to think that just because he wasn’t a teenager when Declan’s mother had left him that things wouldn’t be difficult. “I know that things must’ve been hard for you, too. Declan’s doing great, though. He really is such an awesome kid.”
Cole smiled. “He is, isn’t he? It’s such a cliché to say that kids are resilient, but they really are.”
We were both stuffed when we finally finished eating, and I stretched as we walked out into the parking lot.
“That was really good,” I said.
“This is one of my favorite places.” He looked up at the sky. “The moon’s really full,” he said. “Want to go for a walk?”
“Uh, sure,” I said. I couldn’t remember ever being out at night and walking in the woods before, which was completely different than walking around a city at night.
“I love going out at night like this,” he said. “Walking, riding my bike, whatever. I don’t get to do that too much since Declan’s been around, but on the rare occasion that I get the chance, I try not to miss it. There’s just sort of something magical about it. I know a good trail we can go to. It overlooks the lake.”
It was about a 15-minute drive from the restaurant. Cole was right; there was something magical about being out here at night, the moonlight spilling through the treetops, dappling the ground in a milky glow, casting cool, silver shadows. I was surprised how well I could see, and how, when I looked up at the dark velvet sky, I could see so many stars. That was one thing I didn’t think that I’d ever get tired of looking at, the way you could see so many more stars when you were far enough away from the city.
And the air smelled different at night, too. The pine scent was more fragrant or something, and there was also a coolness there that wasn’t present during the day, when the sun was out. It almost felt like we were on a different planet.
We hiked on a narrow footpath winding through the pine trees. I followed behind Cole, and we didn’t say anything, just walked quietly, until we came to a hill and a clearing.
We sat there on the bluff, overlooking the pond, the water still, smooth, flat and unbroken as glass. I was aware of his body next to mine, the tops of our legs touching. He shifted, and his shoulder brushed against my shoulder, and then he was turning toward me a little, bringing his hand up to gently cup my chin.
I let him.
And when he leaned his head toward mine, and I felt his lips brush my own, I let that happen, too, even though I hadn’t been planning on that. I had planned to give him the same treatment I had given Ben, but there was something magnetic about Cole, something that made me want to let him kiss me.
So I did.
He was gentle at first, his mouth barely exerting any pressure, his fingers still gripping my chin, but then I felt him open his mouth a little wider, and the kiss became a little stronger, so I responded by pushing back against him, kissing him a little harder. His tongue slipped into my mouth, and without thinking, I bit down on it. Just a little bit, at first, but there was something so inviting—and rather exciting, too—about doing that, that I bit down even harder, and he let out a strangled sort of yelp sound and pulled back.
I could taste a little blood in my mouth.