What A Kiss Is

Chapter Four

Four

Three days here, and I have a routine. Wake up whenever, walk up the hill and get coffee. Mornings are nice, quiet. New York is never quiet, and I love that, but the real feeling of silence is growing on me, too. Today I’m in the coffee place with my laptop to do some writing—another essay for a literature class I’m taking.

The door opens and Amber steps in followed by the teenage version of Captain America—some tidy haircut blond who looks as healthy and wholesome as Amber does. My gut twists a little, which it shouldn’t, because I’ve already marked Amber off as definitely not for me.

“Hey, Antony.” She smiles the same friendly smile as always.

Captain America’s brows pull down as he sizes me up. I wonder who he thinks I am. And, I kind of wonder who he is? Must be her boyfriend or something, even though I haven’t seen him around before. Guess that’s not really fair since I’ve only been here for a few days. Well, and I never asked if she had a boyfriend.

“Oh, sorry.” Amber chuckles. “Kent, this is Antony. Antony, Kent.”

“Hey.” I stand up and make myself as tall as I can without being obvious. We shake, and there’s no way he’s not squeezing tightly on purpose. I know I am. We’re evenly matched. “Nice to meet you.”

“You’re the kid from New York?” he asks as Amber grabs her drink over the counter.

“Yeah.” I sit back behind my computer. What the hell’s wrong with me? Girls have totally tried to pull this before—bringing some other guy around to make me jealous. I usually just nod and keep doing whatever I was doing before they showed up. I’ve never let it work. Ever. And now, with a girl I’m NOT going to get involved with, and when she didn’t bring him in here on purpose (she doesn’t strike me as the playing games type) I’m affected.

“See ya.” She smiles and waves as she blows on the top of her hot chocolate.

Blondie holds the door open for her, and even though I don’t watch, I know his eyes are on me. Ridiculous.

This is a mess I do not need to be in the middle of.

- - -

The rain’s coming down again, more like misting this time, but it keeps us inside. Amber and her mom are here for dinner. Pancakes. For dinner. Dad claims he just likes breakfast food.

“So, your boyfriend seems nice,” I say. Why am I fishing here? Do I have to admit that I kind of like her? I mean, it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. It’s just that she so obviously doesn’t like me, not in that way, and I can’t imagine what that’s like. To like someone who doesn’t like you back. So, I really should make sure I don’t like her. As these thoughts spin around in my head, I realize I sound like I’m back in middle school.

Her mom’s head jerks toward her.

Amber’s cheeks redden. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

I chuckle. “Well he’d sure be happy to fill that role.” And I should not feel relieved. And her reaction is kind of cracking me up. We’re not in eighth grade anymore. It’s not like having a boyfriend should be any big deal.

“No.” She shakes her head. “We’re not that way. He doesn’t like me like that.”

Her mom laughs. “I assume we’re talking about Kent, and he totally does like you that way.”

Amber’s cheeks redden further.

My phone buzzes in my pocket.

DAVID: EMER, CALL NOW.