Part 13 (1/2)

”Exactly,” I say. ”Everyone seems so judgmental. And then they hug her in church and tell her they'll be there for her.”

Ty breaks his blade of gra.s.s in two.

I stare at the swing set.

”It just doesn't seem right,” I say.

”Have you talked about this with your dad?” asks Ty. ”Maybe he can help out Mrs. Minter a little more or something?”

I look down at my fingernails, pretending to inspect the clear polish that's starting to peel. ”He's caught up in h.e.l.l House,” I say. Then I sigh out loud.

”You sound disappointed,” Ty says.

”I am.”

We're silent for a moment, and I feel like I should explain more.

”It's not that I'm disappointed in G.o.d,” I say. ”But there's something about the way people are acting in His name that isn't sitting right with me.”

Ty nods like he understands, and I know he does. And I feel kind of bad saying it, but I'm also glad that there's this place, a place where Ty and I can talk without boundaries or parents who don't take our views seriously and change the subject.

I breathe a sigh of relief at having voiced a thought that a few months ago would have scared me to even think: I'm disappointed in the church.

The next day, I'm thinking about disappointment and Tessa and Jeremy and my father. My thoughts are swirling as I sit at my bedroom desk, and I get frustrated, trying to pinpoint a moment in time when things started feeling so off. I stare at my driver's license, wis.h.i.+ng I could go back to that day. That was the day I first saw Ty-and he's what I'm looking at in the photo, not the camera. I blush at the memory. I imagined he was a mysterious stranger, but he's Tyson Davis. Sweet, funny, thoughtful Tyson Davis.

And I might go crazy if he doesn't kiss me soon.

I look back down at my math homework and erase the problem I just tried to do-I know the answer's wrong. I start to work through it again, but my thoughts keep wandering to Ty's lips. He puts his arm around me, looks for me in the halls and at church, basically makes it seem like he's my boyfriend in every way but one.

I shake my head to get Ty out of it, and I look back down at the penciled equation I've written, trying to focus. He did have that Finding Purity book ... maybe he does think you shouldn't kiss before marriage. I know a lot of people who talk about how their first kiss will be on their wedding day.

There's no way I can wait that long.

I look at the clock-time for work. Math has to wait. I close my book and pick up my bag, shoving my blue ruffled ap.r.o.n into it. I've got the late-afternoon s.h.i.+ft at Joey's. Mom and Dad don't like me working during the school year, but I convinced them that one weekend s.h.i.+ft is good for my character.

It's also somewhere I can meet Ty without them acting weird about it. Because they don't have to know.

”Bye, Mom,” I say, grabbing the Honda keys from the pegboard in the kitchen. We've agreed that I get the car for work, because I've told Mom that I don't get off until eight p.m. and it's getting dark by then.

I don't wait to check that she's heard me, I just go. I know she'll ha.s.sle me about what time I'll be home and whether Mel the cook can follow me to be sure I get back safely. It's like she thinks vampires come out at night around here or something.

When I get to Joey's, I spend extra time setting up the tiny table in the back corner by the window. It's the one where Ty likes to sit with iced tea and a book. He's been coming here for the past three Sat.u.r.days, and even though it's unspoken, I'm sure he'll be by again today.

Around five thirty p.m., like clockwork, Ty strolls in. Mel is out talking to Mrs. Patterson at her table, and I see him notice the smile I give to Ty as I lead him to the corner table, where I've put the best daisy in the center bud vase.

When we get back into the kitchen, Mel grins at me.

”What?” I ask innocently.

”Your boy's here again,” he says, teasing me.

”He loves the way you brew that tea,” I say, grabbing the plastic pitcher so I can pour Ty a gla.s.s.

Mel humphs and goes back to his barbecue, but I can tell he likes Ty. Everyone does, except for my parents.

Throughout my s.h.i.+ft, there are only a few customers. Sat.u.r.day's really not a big afternoon at Joey's, and everyone from school goes to the Starbucks in the next town over to hang out on Sat.u.r.day nights, late night.

I try not to linger too much at Ty's table, even though I refill his iced tea after practically every sip. It's not like we're even talking much-we're just coexisting in this s.p.a.ce-but it still makes me giddy. He's become one of my best friends. A best friend that I want to kiss. A lot.

By six, it's clear that this s.h.i.+ft isn't going to get any busier. I head into the kitchen and give Mel my best puppy dog eyes.

”Okay,” he says. ”Go.”

I beam at him in thanks and untie my ap.r.o.n. Then I walk over to Ty's table for one last refill.

I have two hours until my mom will even start expecting me home.

”I'm done!” I say to Ty.

”Let's go,” he replies.

We take both of our cars and drive out to Ulster Park.

Even though I've told my mom that my s.h.i.+ft lasts until eight p.m. on Sat.u.r.days, it really only goes until seven. It's a dangerous lie, because my parents know Mel, of course, but they trust me. That makes me feel half-guilty and half-confident in my deception.

This is the third Sat.u.r.day in a row that Ty and I have spent the evening out at Ulster Park. We catch the end of twilight, when the sky gets that dusty filter and the fireflies flicker. We've mostly just been talking about faith, life-all these big questions and concepts that feel so new the way Ty looks at them. But tonight I plan to ask him why he hasn't kissed me. If I can get up the nerve.

Ty spreads his old sleeping bag on top of the hill in what I've come to think of as ”our spot,” in the same way that the fallen log in the woods is my friends' spot. This one, however, has romantic potential.

Usually, I leave a foot between us on the sleeping bag. Tonight I edge more toward Ty. In a burst of confidence I lean my head on his shoulder.

I feel his breath quicken but he doesn't push me away. We sit like that for a few moments, and then I say, ”I like being with you.”

It sounds so simple and innocuous on one level, but so forward and flirty on another. And his silence after I say it means that my own voice is echoing in my mind, taking on a hundred different interpretations and connotations and making me feel more insecure by the second.

Finally, Ty sighs and moves his shoulder from under my head.

I stare forward into s.p.a.ce, not wanting to face him as he pulls his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them.

”I like being with you too, Lacey,” he says. Which is the right thing to say, but the way he's all curled in a ball, like he's protecting himself from me, tells a different story.

”Okay,” I say. And I'm so tired of us sitting here, talking about everything, things I don't even talk to my best friends about, that I turn to face him now with renewed energy, silencing the doubting voices in my head.

”So what is it?” I ask. ”Do you like me, but you're not attracted to me? Or maybe you like Starla Joy? Or someone else entirely, like ...,” and I think about how I saw Ty talking to Bore-a Bergen in the halls earlier this week, and I let out a small gasp. ”It's not Laura Bergen, is it?”

He chuckles and shakes his head at me. ”No,” he says. ”It's not Laura Bergen. It's not Starla Joy. And it isn't that I'm not attracted to you. You've got the prettiest face I've ever seen, Lacey Anne. And you keep getting prettier.”

I look away from him now, embarra.s.sed but also the good kind of nervous, because I can feel the electricity between us. And he just admitted to feeling it too, in his own way.

He reaches for my chin, bringing my eyes back to him and holding my face tilted upward like he did once before, but this time he follows through with what I expect-a kiss. It's soft and gentle, but I can also feel the longing within it. Tingles pa.s.s through my body and down to my toes, and I'm not sure I'm breathing.