Page 5 of Hiss and Make Up
“Ow.” He rubbed his arm in exaggerated pain. “That was like fifteen years ago. We were kids.”
“And what about everyone since then?” she asked. “You try on girls like shoes. You slip them all on to see how they feel when you’re happiest running around barefoot.” She put the car seat on the gravel to help the girls climb inside the van. “Save yourself the trouble. She won’t fit."
Marc winced. "Ouch. Thanks for the vote of confidence."
His sister wasn’t wrong. He went on dates, mostly because people insisted he needed to date more, but he didn’t enjoy it. In fact, he hated dating. First dates were the worst. Polite and awkward. Which was why he rarely asked for a second.
But Denise was wrong about him wanting to be barefoot. While he wasn’t itching to have kids of his own, Marc wanted that feeling he got from being with his family. He was looking for that comfy, perfect pair of worn-in sneakers.
“I mean it. That girl was trouble.”
"Why? Just because she broke your key chain thingy doesn't mean she's destined to be a serial killer or whatever is running through your head."
Denise activated her death stare. Then she inspected each of the girls’ seat belts and snapped the carrier into its base. "She killed my Tamagotchi, and I'm not ruling out serial killer yet." She slid the van door closed and kissed Marc on the cheek. "But I’m more worried about your heart than any psychotic dismemberment. I mean it. She's no good for you."
"She's just coming to look at the snake," he whispered. "It's not like we're gonna elope or do it on your front lawn while you’re gone.”
Denise shuddered and climbed into the driver’s seat.
“Besides,” he said, “I’ve got a high school game to cover tonight, so it would only be a lawn quickie.”
Denise groaned, but it came out more like a growl. "Whatever. Just lock up before you leave."
Marc waved to the girls as they drove down the long gravel driveway, leaving Marc alone in the front yard. Struggling to not think about what was in that shed. To not think about what could have happened if one of the kids had found it instead of Denise.
He walked through the grass to sit on the hood of his car and soak up some warm, early fall sunshine. The pecan trees lining the driveway stood still in the midday lack of breeze. As usual, the acre-sized plot of land Denise’s house sat on offered a welcome bubble of peace. Too much peace, because now his brain had nothing to do but process what had happened so far today.
A thrilling wave of nausea and tingles had washed over him the second he’d heard Sierra’s voice on the other end of that call. How, after fifteen years, could someone have that effect on him? Especially someone who didn’t even remember him.
Denise was only partially right about Sierra. True, she’d gotten herself in more trouble than most kids. But what Denise left out—and in most instances didn’t know about—was the trouble usually came from defending Marc or getting him out of some mess. Marc had been a smallish kid, quiet and an easy target. They’d spent most of their days together exploring the nearby fields and bayou. They jumped ditches, climbed trees, and searched for critters. That last part wasn’t Marc’s idea of fun. But since he didn’t want to lose the only friend he had, he went along with it. Despite his aversion to all things slimy, scaly, or fuzzy. But Sierra loved every living creature she could find. The uglier and grosser the better.
Then her dad got a new job and moved them thirty minutes away the summer before high school. Might as well have been thirty thousand miles. They lived in different neighborhoods. Went to different schools. Made different friends. Dated different people.
They kept in touch for a while, but it wasn’t the same. Eventually, Sierra stopped returning his calls. Then he stopped texting. They just…ended.
He stared at the end of the road, wondering if she’d look the same. Sound the same. Smile at him the same way.
He wondered if she’d even remember him. Fifteen years was a long time. She couldn’t be expected to remember every guy she’d ever met. Or even every guy she’d kissed.
Not that it mattered. Denise was right about his track record. He didn’t need to go down this road with Sierra. Better to keep his memories intact than have another failed experiment replace them.
His phone buzzed on the hood next to him.
Marc had left the radio station so fast that he’d asked his friend, the station engineer, to wrap up for him. Freddy agreed for the steep price of a local IPA and a burger later. He was texting to say he’d taken care of everything and to remind Marc of their deal. Marc thanked him for picking up his slack and promised to buy him lunch the next day.
A red Forerunner turned onto his street, and Marc hopped off the hood. He didn’t know what she drove, but something told him this was her. His stomach twisted and fluttered as he wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans.
Ready or not, it was time to show his first crush a crushed reptile.
2
Sierra’s Forerunner rattled over the long gravel driveway toward a guy standing near a pecan tree. She’d never seen this particular house before, and it looked fairly new. The rest of this town and this street in particular were familiar territory.
She’d passed her own childhood home at the end of the road, almost hitting a mailbox while she stared at it. And she definitely recognized that house across the field. The house on the edge of the bayou with ghosts on that back porch swing.
Shaking the past from her head, Sierra returned her attention to the driveway so she wouldn’t ram into a tree. She had a job to do, and she had to do it fast if she wanted to drop off Luna’s gift and make it back in time for a free lunch with Dale. It shouldn’t take much time to identify this snake, as long as she didn’t zone out with more trips down memory lane.
She parked behind a black sedan and crunched across the gravel, ready to meet this snake-smashing idiot. He looked nice enough. Thick, shaggy, dark hair. Sun-darkened skin. A wide smile. And just enough facial hair to make her want to rub her hand along the side of his face.
