SHOOT| ✓

Darcy Ivanov (ii)

DARCY AND I LEFT THE ROLLER RINK AND NOW SIT MOTIONLESSLY IN MY DAD'S CAR.

It feels like sitting in a tiny box of heady apprehension. We don't bother looking at one another because, frankly, if we do make eye contact, we'll go crazy. I already am, but she isn't. She doesn't need to be. I like her the way she is, the only shred of normal I have.

"So um, what do we do now?"

My knuckles blanch from how sternly I grip the wheel. I keep my eyes trained on the dingy sky and the sombre shine of the summer moon. "I was hoping you knew the answer."

"I don't," Darcy voices gently, "you have the answers. Not me."

That's when I feel the delicate touch of her palm on my upper arm. I'm pulled back by the gravity in her luminous eyes, telling me she needs more of a connection. Or I do. I guess it's both of us. My breathing becomes softer, the pensive look on my face melting into a vacuous expression.

"Your dad wants you home by eleven," I say. "It's ten forty."

"Uh, okay."

Darcy bites her lip, her gaze everywhere but on me. Her body squirms a little just before her body relaxes into the leather seat. "I mean, we've got a solid twenty minutes. He won't care if we're a little late."

"It'll take us some time to get you home though. Ten minutes to get back to the suburbs, about five more to get to your house, that makes fifteen-"

I'm cut off. Not because I stopped talking. But because Darcy has her mouth against mine, her eyes closed, and hands on either side of my face.

"You're really bad at taking hints, Monty," she whispers as she pulls away. "I've been trying to get you to kiss me."

I don't speak because I know that if I open my mouth, I'll say something tremendously stupid. I'm treading on very delicate waters, and even the slightest ripple can bring all this crashing down. Whatever this is. In my head, this moment's supposed to go differently, an improvised blueprint. Like the Lego kits my mom bought me as a kid. Follow the plan and finish the creation.

I'm not following the plan. Neither is she.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have--"

Screw the plan.

I kiss her.

Not those close-mouthed kisses like my first. An everything kiss. Enough to have her small body melt into mine and hands migrate into my hair like we discussed earlier. There's never been so much saturated warmth in my body before; trickling into every part of me, into every part of her, and into every part of this pine-scenting car. It all rushes to the corners and crevices, filling up the cracks until the only way to let myself go is to have every organ in me combust.

Still, I don't want to let myself go. She isn't letting me go either.

I draw back slowly and really look at Darcy for the first time. Her willowy frame. Her lack of makeup. Her flat chest. Her button nose. Her caramel skin. The loose strands of hair falling out of her ponytail and her flushed cheeks.

Darcy Ivanov is a mismatched masterpiece.

My eyes fall to her lips again, needing to experience the rush a second time.

She beats me to speak, "That was extraordinary."

"Weird words to describe a kiss." I'm still out of breath.

Darcy turns to me in her seat and pulls me to her by the front of my jean jacket so we're nose to nose. I blink a few times at our proximity, following the glint in her eyes as they twinkle, unlike the stars in the night sky. "Mind-blowing, Monty. That's the right word. You just blew my mind."