"Are you ogling me, Banana?"
"Are you on steroids, Campbell? Or do you spend every waking second at the gym? Wouldn't that get in the way of your incessant comic book reading and crazy-boring computer programming?"
I tease him, but Ford is the smartest person I know. He left MIT with about a hundred job offers. After months of agonizing, he narrowed it down to two different positions. One is in San Francisco, and the other one is in Washington, DC. Guess which one I hope he takes?
"She comes off the train in rare form, everyone," he announces to the platform of dwindling pedestrians.
I roll my eyes because I'm honestly not sure what else to do besides openly stare at my suddenly kinda-hot best friend. "Ha. Ha. Ha. You are so hilarious. Why don't you stop being such a goober and help me with these bags."
"I thought your parents were up a couple of weeks ago to help you with your stuff," he says as he grabs my two heavier bags as if they weigh no more than a paperback book.
"They were." I look over at him as we walk through the door that will take us to the tiny parking lot. The Cherrydale train station is less of a station and more of a platform attached to a parking lot with one tiny vending machine that has been out of order more years than I've been in college.
"Coulda fooled me," he says and points toward his car. "Bet they were bummed they couldn't be here when you got home."
"Totes," I say and climb into the front seat. "But they had that wedding for my dad's boss's daughter. They're making a whole weekend out of it."
Ford laughs and puts the car into drive. As we make our way from the train station and through our super small central Pennsylvania town, I do my usual inventory of the area, noting what's changed (not much) and what's new (also, not much).
Letting out a sigh, I lean my head against the headrest. I don't think I can ever live in this small town again. Washington, DC, will definitely be a welcomed adjustment. I still can't believe I'll be starting Georgetown Law in two short weeks. Ahhhh.
"Tired?" Ford asks.
"Nah. Just feeling ... introspective," I decide.
"Well, if that's all." He makes a turn onto my parents' street. "I happened to hear of a party that one certain redhead might like to attend tonight."
I turn said red-haired head in his direction. "Someone in this town is having a party?"
"Ran into Sam this morning. Some girl who was a year younger than us is returning to college next week, so she's throwing a sort of alumni homecoming and end-of-summer party tonight. Should be some people from our year, too."
My heart starts beating fast. "Really?"
I watch Ford roll his eyes. "Yes, really. Seriously, Lan? Is this whole hook-up-with-Wes-Givens plan still green-lit?"
"Yes! Of course. This could be the last time I ever see him."
"Not really. Just come home for the holidays and stop by the gas station."
My turn to roll my eyes as Ford pulls his car into my driveway. "Wes doesn't work at the gas station." What a cliche if he did. The talented high-school quarterback pumping gas and cleaning windshields.
"No, but he works for his dad's insurance company here in town. Nothing glamorous about it."
"Shut up. Stop ruining this moment for me." I get out of the car. Ford has already grabbed my bags and is heading to the porch.
"I wouldn't dream of ruining the perfect night of cheap keg beer and high school dreams for you."
"You're so dramatic. Quit whining and go take a shower. We have some partying to do tonight." I stick the key in the front lock but quickly turn around and wrap my arms around Ford. "Thanks for picking me up."
I feel him relax against me. I also can't help but notice that he smells amazing. When did he start wearing whatever scent this is?
He offers up his grin. "Pick you up at eight."
AFTER A MUCH-NEEDED LONG shower, my day of travel is washed away, my hair is shiny, and my skin is nice and clear. I throw on a pair of tight leggings and a baby blue tank top, accessorizing with both a long and short necklace and tiny star earrings that Ford gave me for my birthday last year.
As I make my way around my childhood bedroom, I can't stop thinking about Ford. We didn't get to see each other as much this year as usual. We had the same spring break but Ford went to Puerto Rico with some friends. Instead of spending Christmas at home like usual, my family went to Arizona to visit my grandparents. I missed him.
We've known each other for so long. No one knows me better than Ford Campbell.
On cue, I hear his car horn. Looking out my bedroom window, he spots me and waves and I wave back. I stop for a spritz of perfume before I dash down the stairs and yank the door open.
I pull up short to see that Ford has exited the car and is standing on my front porch with his hands in his pockets. "Ready?" he asks. "You smell good," he adds.
"Just some perfume," I say. Then I take him in.
Ford looks like ... totally Ford. He's wearing jeans, a button-down plaid shirt over a--what else--vintage Star Wars tee. Only, there is something else. Something ... sexier. OMG. Did I just think my best friend looked sexy?
"Why is your face getting red?" he asks.
"No reason. Let's go." I slam the door shut, grab his hand, and quickly head for his car.
It only takes us five minutes to drive to the party. I remember the girl who's throwing it even though Ford is clueless. Shocker. Still, as we walk around the house taking in all the kids of varying ages from high school to recent college grads, neither of us is really comfortable.
"Who are all these people?"
Ford shrugs. "Hell if I know." Like me, he looks around the room. "I think I saw Scott and JT over there. Other than that, I feel like we're party crashing."
"Want to go see if we know anyone outside?"
"Sure."
We make our way through the kitchen, stopping to snag a couple of Jell-O shots, and then out the door onto the deck.
"Oh look," I say pointing. There is a white gazebo in the backyard, all bedazzled in twinkly lights. "Come on."
"Are you going to make me act out Twilight again?" he asks.
I shove him. "Shut up. That was one freaking time. And that waterfall we came across while hiking reminded me of Forks." Sticking a finger in his face, I huff. "Besides, I know you read that book."
"Didn't need to." He chuckles. "You practically recited it for me on a daily basis."
I do a little turn in the gazebo. "How could I not? Romance and werewolves and vampires ..."
"Speaking of things that suck." Ford hops up on the railing. "I didn't catch Wes Givens inside."
I bite my lip. "Maybe he won't show up."
"And maybe he'll go to something else interesting that's happening in town. Oh, wait. That's right. Nothing else ever goes on in this town."
I laugh. "True."
"So your lover boy will be here."
Sighing, I let my shoulders rise and drop. "I don't get why you don't like Wes or my plan to hook up with him now. Do you want me to live with regret for the rest of my life?"
"You got close that one night."
Prom, senior year. How could I ever forget? We'd both gone to the dance with different people, but at the after party we almost hooked up.
"I'm just glad I kept you from hooking up with him senior year," he says under his breath.
I whirl around to face him. It's clear from Ford's expression that he hadn't meant to say that out loud.
"What did you say?" I ask, although I'm sure I heard him correctly.
"Lana," he begins. But then he stops, puts his hands in the air.
"It was you. The night of prom."
I cast my mind back. I can still see the lavender dress I'd worn, still smell the lily in my corsage. Wes and I had been talking for a long time out on the deck of the house as we drank some delectable Boone's Farm. I'd shivered, and he'd asked if I wanted to go upstairs with him where it was warm.
We'd made our way to one of the bedrooms. But before any
thing had happened, Wes slipped out to go to the bathroom. When he'd come back, he said he'd changed his mind. He didn't want to do anything with me. That had been that. Embarrassing and confusing.
Now, four years later, I'm learning that Ford may have had something to do with us not getting together.
"Ford, you better start talking now." I feel my blood starting to boil.
He gives me this look where he makes his green eyes go all big and remorseful. It usually makes me give in to him. Tonight might be the exception.
"Now," I say.
His shoulders collapse, and he lets out this long sigh. "My date was in the bathroom and I ... I kinda told Wes not to hook up with you."
"Why?"
"Because he's not a good guy, Lana. He never was."
"You know how I felt about him. How much that night would have meant to me ..."
"He was a bully. He made kids' lives miserable. For fun. Because he was bored."
He takes my shoulders, and I try to shake his grip, but he holds firm. "All these years, Ford. Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I pretty much expected, and wanted to avoid, the reaction I'm getting right now."
"You ruined everything."
"I saved you." He steps closer.
"You were jealous of Wes."
"Yeah, Lana, I was jealous of him. I still am. Wanna know why?"
Do I? "Yes."
"Because he has your attention."
"Well, at the moment you have it, you crazy person." I flick him on the chest.
"I am crazy. Crazy to have hoped ..."
"Hoped for what?" I ask. I'm confused but at the same time the hair on my arms is standing up at full attention. Ford's eyes are boring into mine, imploring me to pay attention.
"Hoped that you wanted what I wanted. I mean, that you would come to want what I want."
"What are you even talking about? What do you want?"
He takes a deep breath, like he's about to go under water. Then he leans toward me. "This."
Ford presses his lips against mine, and I'm so shocked that I feel my eyes go wide and a small sound escapes my mouth. As it does, my lips soften and open and Ford frames my face with his hands.
OMG, my BFF is kissing me. But the really crazy thing is, I start to kiss him back. Even as I allow him to run his lips over mine, my heart starts beating harder, and my stomach does a little flip-flop.
Holy hell. Ford is a good kisser. A great kisser.
So good that I find my arms acting independently of my brain. They reach up and wind around his shoulders, my hands clasping behind his neck. I lean back and Ford takes the opportunity to place kisses along my neck. I shudder because, oh man, that's a super sensitive spot.
Then he's running his lips up and down, and I move my hands to his shirt, pulling him closer.
"Yes," I utter in a husky voice.
Ford's hands moved to my waist, circling my hips and tracing circles just under the hem of my tank top. Lazy fingers slide up my skin, making me shiver as they pass over a rather ticklish spot. They stop when they reach my bra, a moment of hesitation.
But I want more, so I shift to the right and meet his lips once more. I push my tongue into his mouth, hoping he understands that this is an invitation for his hands to pick up where they left off. I taste the cherry Jell-O from the shot.
I know we're outside at a party. In the background, I can hear the music blasting through the house. Someone is yelling "chug" at the top of his lungs, and a car horn is blasting out on the street.
I don't care though because this feels so amazing. I know we'd been fighting, but if you put a gun to my head, I wouldn't be able to tell you what we were fighting over.
Finally, Ford takes the hint, and his fingers begin to move under my top again. They brush over my lacy bra, passing over my sensitive nipples. I push into him even as I continue to draw him toward me by clutching his shirt.
Then his hands fall to my waist, and he plants one last kiss on my lips.
When we pull apart, there's a long moment that passes between us. I search his eyes, hoping, praying I won't see any regret. Even though I really can't believe I've just made out with my oldest, closest friend, I can't deny that it felt amazing.
Then Ford's face breaks out into his usual grin, and I relax in his arms.
"Well," I say.
"Well." He brushes a hair from my face. "That's something we've never done before. I mean, we've both kissed other people."
"But never each other." I realize I've been grasping his shirt while we made out and smooth the fabric. Then I look up and meet his serious gaze. "Are you okay?" I ask tentatively.
"After that? Oh yeah."
I lightly punch him. A line forms on his forehead. I know it well. It's his thinking line.
"Banana, I want to say--"
But he's interrupted when a couple of drunk people stumble into the backyard. Oblivious, they immediately start playing beer pong on a long table already set up on the patio.
Ford and I untangle ourselves. I wonder what he was going to say. But the moment--this unexpected, yet totally perfect moment--has ended. I throw my best death stare in the direction of the beer pongers, and Ford laughs. Then he grabs my hand and interlocks our fingers. My breath catches. I've held hands with Ford before. But never like this. With our fingers intertwining like this, it's more than a simple gesture. This is the hand holding of a couple.
Are Ford and I going to become a couple? Are we one already? Would I even want that? Does he?
Questions flood my mind, and I glance over to see that Ford's thinking line has returned as well.
"Come on," he says. "Let's grab some drinks."
Alcohol to calm my uber-frayed nerves? Yes, please. "Sounds good."
I follow him into the house, but we're stopped by Kacey, a friend from high school. Ford snatches his hand from mine in record time, and I can't help but feel disappointed.
"Lana, hi." Unaware of the fact that I can't think of anything except for the way Ford's lips felt against mine, Kacey wraps me in a big hug. "So good to see you. Hi, Ford," she offers.
"Why don't you guys catch up," Ford says, stepping even further from me. "I'll grab us those drinks. Kacey, you want something?"
She holds up her red Solo cup. "All good, thanks."
As Kacey catches me up on her plans for the fall, my eyes follow Ford as he heads toward the kitchen. What just happened? Maybe I'm imagining something, but it seems like he didn't want anyone to see us holding hands. Weird.
I tune back to Kacey. "So I'm going to have to go shopping for new clothes. I mean, it's my first real grown up job. Not an internship. Actual paycheck." She wiggles her eyebrows. "Do you need some stuff for law school?"
"Oh, I don't know. Probably." In truth, I haven't thought about it. I've been too busy obsessing over the possibility of seeing Wes. Then Ford and I kissed, and any thoughts of law school were so far away they might as well be on a different planet.
"Why don't we plan a shopping trip while you're in town?" I'm about to agree when Kacey lets out a huff. "Look who showed up."
I turn my head in the direction she's staring, and I can feel my mouth fall open. Wesley Givens has just walked in the front door. He high-fives some guys by the door, and his eyes are sweeping the room as he walks further into the house.
He looks so similar to the Wes I remember from four years ago. He's even wearing the same Cherrydale High Football tee. Well, hopefully, it's an updated version at least.
But he has the same dark blond hair in the same short haircut. Still tall and big, but maybe with a little less muscle.
Even as I'm ogling him, he turns in my direction. He takes in me and Kacey and slowly heads in our direction.
"Hey," he says with a quick flick of his chin in our general direction. "Haven't seen either of you in a while."
"Yeah, because we both went away to college," Kacey says. I continue to practice my mime impression.
"Don't be all holier
-than-thou. I went to college, too. Football scholarship. Remember?"
"Yeah, well we both stayed in college and actually graduated."
I look over at Kacey. Whoa. She's going for the jugular. If I remember correctly, she and Wes never really got along back in the day. Still, ouch.
Wes seems unperturbed, though.
Kacey rolls her eyes and nudges my shoulder. "I'm gonna go say hi to some people. You okay, Lana?"
"Yeah, of course." Then she's gone, and Wes and I are alone. For the first time in four years.
"Hey," he says with another head nod.
"Hi."
Crickets. All this time spent obsessing over seeing Wes Givens again, and I never thought about what to say. Great, Lana, I chastise myself.
"So you in town for a while?" he asks.
"Just for two weeks. I graduated in May, but I was working at a Syracuse law firm until a couple of days ago. Thought I would come to town before I move to DC for law school." It might be the light, but seems like Wes's eyes are glazed over.
"Cool."
"Yeah, it'll be great. So you're still around here?"
"So?" His eyes flick to mine.
"Nothing, just making conversation."
Whoa, defensive much? I cast my mind back to high school and even junior high before that. Did Wes and I ever have an actual conversation? Because we are barely having one now.
He starts saying something about football and preseason games and I tune out. My eyes search out the room for Ford, but I don't spot him. As Wes rambles on and on about tackles and tight ends, I can't help but remember going to Friday night games with Ford. We used to have the best time.
And we always ended up at the diner after. I ordered mozzarella sticks and Ford would get cheesecake.
I wonder if he remembers that. Again, I look around for him as Wes babbles on. Where is he?
Then, the next thing I know, Wes reaches out and snags my hand. Interesting that his touch doesn't feel anything like when Ford held my hand. I don't feel butterflies in my stomach. In fact, the only thing I do feel is Wes's sweaty hand. Gross.
"Let's go somewhere and catch up," he says and then takes off. Yanking my hand, I stumble before catching up to his pace.
"Where are we going?"
"I just want to talk. Come on, let's go upstairs."
I realize pretty quickly that I don't want to go upstairs. Yet at the same time, I'm curious. How could I not be? This is the guy I've been waiting to go upstairs with for the past four years. Plus those years in high school.