Free Life Interrupted by Kristen Kehoe Page A

uneaten portion of my sandwich, uncapping my water and sipping from it as I angle myself toward him.  “Yeah, I mean, I’m not a great student and I have no artistic or musical talent.  And I am big,” I say and watch heat spread down his neck.
                  “For the record, long legs don’t go into the negative column.  Just the opposite, actually.”
                  I raise my brow.  “You have columns? I feel like I should be offended.”
                  “Nah, I don’t really have columns, but if I did, your legs would definitely be on the reasons-to-go-out-with-Rae-again side.”
    He smiles and crumples up the paper from his sandwich—a sandwich he finished.  If I had columns, that would definitely be something I put on the positive side.  Not that he needs to know that.
    “Anything else besides these stems of mine?” I ask and he grins.
    “Y ou ate dinner the other night.  That goes into the positive because there’s really nothing more annoying than buying a girl dinner when she doesn’t eat any of it.  Long legs, total positive.”
    “You already said that,” I remind him and he laughs. 
    “Can’t be said enough.  The eyes—not green, not gray, just a blend of the two that glow out of your skin.  Kind of startling.”
                  The compliments are as foreign as they are appreciated, but I just smile and play it cool.  “I appear to be quite the catch.  Any negatives?”
                  His smile is wry.  “The high school thing isn’t really awesome, but you’re eighteen, so that’s something.  More than my idiot cousin can say.”
                  I laugh and his hand reaches out and takes mine, our fingers sliding together as he looks over at me.  “Seriously though, Rae, you’re cool.  I haven’t ever met anyone like you.”
    “You barely know me,” I say , thinking of Gracie. 
    “But what I do know makes me want to know more.”
    “Wow, you’re good at this.”
    His smile is boy-next-door adorable.  “But am I making progress?”
    “I think so ,” I say and he grins wider.  From somewhere deep in the recesses of my brain pops out the thought that my relationship with Tripp isn’t like this, it’s not new and easy, it’s not comfortable.  It’s old and full of baggage and history and everything I feel for him is complicated.  And then I wonder if we would have ever been like this together if I hadn’t gotten pregnant, if he hadn’t met Lauren.
                  When Dean leans forward, I hesitate for just the slightest second, which pisses me off and for which I blame one hundred percent on Tripp for no reason other than I can’t stop thinking about him.  Calling myself an idiot, I close the distance on my side until our lips meet in a simple kiss.  I’m aware of the texture of his lips—firm, a little dry but not awkwardly so.  He’s very patient as he cups my face and changes the angle of his head, taking our lip-lock a little deeper.  When he pulls away, he presses two small kisses to my lips, his hands staying where they are as he looks at me.  There are no fireworks, no sparks, and if a part of me is disappointed, I don’t acknowledge it.  The kiss was soft and sweet, like a first kiss should be.
                  “You’re not so bad yourself,” I say as he pulls back a little. 
                  “For some reason that sounds like high praise coming from you.”
                  “Well, in fairness, your competition was an imagined Doug look-a-like, so when you showed up at dinner instead of him the other night your value skyrocketed.”
                  This earns me a smile and another light kiss on the lips.  No, no fireworks, but there is a significant amount of tingling and that can definitely be worked with.
                  “Doug’s not so bad,” he says as we drive back to