~Chapter 3~
That day, when Jake and I were walking home, I asked him a question that had been on my mind since the first day I met him. Somehow I'd just never bothered to ask before,
"Jake, how come you always walked home by yourself? Even in kindergarten? Couldn't your parents drive you? I mean, we were just little kids and it wasn't exactly... you know, safe. Not that we knew the difference..."
I'd already told Jake why I had no choice but to walk to school when I was little and my dad was in jail. But it had always puzzled me why he walked at such a young age. At that moment, Jake turned his head and looked into my inquisitive eyes,
"Well," he began softly, "At that time, my grandma was really sick with cancer. The day before the first day of kindergarten, the hospital called my parents at four in the morning because she was in rough shape and they thought she'd die that day. My mom called my aunt to stay with Erika and me. Now the hospital near where my grandma lived was three hours away so my parents packed their suitcases and left. My aunt couldn't drive us to school; she had work and didn't know where Erika's special french school was, anyway. Erika took the city bus and I walked." Jake took a deep breath, "Grandma didn't die that day, though. She fought for another week, and my parents stayed with her. When they came back, I'd already met you and became friends with you. Erika accepted a drive, though. And that is the story of why I walk to school, it's because of you." He smiled, "My parents wouldn't drive me, now that I'm almost seventeen, even if I begged them. The school is just too damn close and convenient."
We laughed and walked up the driveway to my house. We walked up the pathway, then up the stairs, and stood on my front stoop, face-to-face, for a silent moment.
"Well," I said, "See you tomorrow."
I leaned in to kiss Jake on the cheek, but he abruptly turned his head at the last second, and my lips landed on his. I jerked back slightly out of surprise, but Jake wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me back in. His lips felt just like I imagined they would: strong and warm. I felt as if the ground was spinning beneath us, as if the sky was spinning, and everything else melted away around us. I wouldn't know if they were, though, my eyes were closed. It was one of those moments where, if we were in the sitcoms on T.V, the studio audience would go, "Oooohh!" Jake gently started pulling away first, but I grabbed a handful of his soft, black hair and pressed my lips onto his once more, feeling that warmth that was undeniably, uniquely Jake. Then I pulled away, breathless, and stared into Jake's eyes, smiling. He smiled, and, also out of breath, said,
"See you tomorrow, Bridge."
He then slowly started to walk down the path, down the drive, and down the street. I giggled as Jake did an enthusiastic, but subtle, air punch. He turned back to look at me. I waved and he grinned ruefully. Jake then proceeded to jog, almost skip, the rest of the way down the street.
I sighed, the taste of Jake's lips still lingering on my own, and walked into my house, closing the door quietly behind me. I threw my schoolbag onto the floor in the foyer with a heavy thud and bounded up the stairs to my room. Launching myself onto my bed, I laid facedown, my head in a pillow, and screamed. That kiss got my adrenaline pumping and I had to let it out. When I was done screaming, I crossed the room to my dresser, picked up the framed photo of Jake and I in seventh grade hugging, and soaking wet after the annual watergun fight. It was my favorite. I grabbed a tube of lipstick and with it, I traced a fresh pink heart around us. (Overtop of the one that was already there.)