I want to throw my phone against the wall. I don’t know what to say to that. I’m afraid to say anything because I don’t trust anything about myself right now. This kid has always had a microscope right into my soul and it’s driving me mad.

Am I scared?

Yes. I’m petrified of what she’s made me feel.

Kenzi: Everything is okay, Tor.

My fingers are shaking as I type back on the tiny keyboard.

Me: Is it?

Kenzi: Yes. It is.

Her words convey comfort and confidence – not fear as I expected.

I don’t reply and a few minutes later, a text message comes through with a picture of a penny, and she’s typed the words I wish you wouldn’t worry across it. The last thing I feel like doing is smiling, but I do, because that’s what she does to me.

Me: Thanks, Angel.

Kenzi: No drinking. Promise me?

I shake my head at the phone. She knows me too well. Better than she really should.

Me: I promise.

Kenzi: Good.

I breathe a deep sigh of relief as I toss my phone off to the side. We’ve silently agreed to pretend the kiss never happened.

Bullshit.

For the past two weeks I’ve been laying low, working on my bike, landscaping my yard, and training this goofy white dog who almost got me killed and then led to me kissing someone my lips had no right to be on. When my mom told me no one ever came to claim the dog, I went over and adopted him and he stuck his head out the truck window on the way home with the wind in his face as we drove right past the place I saved him. I couldn’t let a beautiful dog like this sit in a concrete kennel recuperating with a broken leg, right? At least that’s what I told Mom.

We know the real reason, though. Because Kenzi fell in love with him in the back seat that day and now he has sentimental value. He witnessed our first kiss.

First and last kiss, I remind myself. First and last.

I haven’t talked to her since that day due to her having her wisdom teeth pulled out and then she came down with the worst friggin’ cold ever. At least that’s what her text message told me. I did go to her graduation and stood with her family like I always have, watching her take steps into adulthood. She didn’t say one word to me at the ceremony. In fact, she barely looked at me. I declined the invitation of going back to Asher’s house for a small party afterwards. I felt too guilty being near her and all her loved ones, afraid someone would notice a difference between us, or that I’d have a meltdown and admit what I did to all of them while we stood around eating cake.

Is she avoiding me? The possibility has crossed my mind several thousand times, and it hurts me in a way I can’t describe, but it’s the way it should be. I kissed a fucking seventeen-year-old girl. Seventeen. That little fact turns my stomach every time I think of it. She thinks of me as her uncle. I’m closer to her than her own uncles are. I’ve never once been even remotely attracted to anyone under twenty-one before, unless I was that age myself. But something about Kenzi is different. She doesn’t act or look her age at all. I’ve come to think of her as more of a friend than anything else over the past few years, and I have no idea how that even happened. Up until now, I never thought about our relationship as unhealthy or wrong. Now I’m second guessing everything.

I’ve texted her pictures of the newly-groomed and incredibly white fluffy dog, whom I’ve named Diogee. She texted back that as soon as she feels better she’s coming right over to play with him and vacuum up all the white fur that’s accumulating in places of my house that I never thought dog fur could end up.

I have mixed feelings about seeing her again, and I try to convince myself it will be a good way to prove to myself that what happened was just a one-time mistake that will never happen again. But mixed in with that is hidden excitement and longing. I want to see her smile at me with those lips that tasted so delicious. Even if I can never taste them again.

I feel guilty as I’m walking into Asher’s house on this sunny Sunday morning. Today we’ve got a ride planned and we always meet up at his house. But now that I’m here, I feel like I have a big red mark on my face in the shape of his daughter’s lips.

“Hey, man, it’s a perfect day for a ride,” he says when I walk into the kitchen. “You want some coffee before we head out?”