IN MY QUEST to reclaim my future with Ashley, I make a list of activities we did in high school. I’m not trying to recover lost innocence. No, not even I’m that delusional. If Ashley and I are going to start over, I want to begin on a clean slate of good memories instead of the tainted ones from the way we ended.
If she wants to date, I’m all in.
First up is the Blue Fox Drive-In Theater in Oak Harbor. Every kid I know who grew up on the island spent summer evenings running around the playground there, waiting for it to get dark enough to be able to see the movie on the huge screen. If the weather cooperated, Mom would spread blankets on the hood and we’d lean against the glass while she and Dad would sit in folding chairs in front of the car. Most of the time, we’d pass out before the movie ended, tired and crashing from the sugar we consumed from the snack bar.
In high school, we preferred to stay inside the car where it was easier to make out, not caring if we steamed up the windows so much we could no longer see the movie screen.
The same family continues to run the drive-in today. Open only for the summer season, going to the Blue Fox is all about the nostalgia. Kind of like seeing movies at the Clyde, this isn’t about the latest advancements in projection and sound.
I text Ashley and tell her to dress warm, but refuse to give her details other than I’ll pick her up at Dan and Roslyn’s.
Someday I’ll thank them for making this courtship game of mine a lot easier.
Ashley buzzes me through the gate and is waiting for me when I drive down to the house. Dressed in tight fitting jeans, boots, and a long-sleeved red flannel shirt, she resembles a female lumberjack, a lumberjill. She’s hot in anything, but in this outfit, she looks like the island girl I fell in love with.
She knocks on the open passenger window. “You going to sit there and stare, or are you going to unlock the door and let me in?”
I jump out and run around the front of the truck. Opening her door, I pay her a compliment. “Miss Kingston, you look very nice this evening.”
“Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you?” Ignoring my hand to help her, she hops into the truck.
“Just you wait. This is a date. Prepare yourself.” I close her door.
Once I’m back inside, she shifts to face me, bending her left knee and resting her foot on the seat. “Where are we going?”
“Dinner and a movie.” It’s the truth.
“Pretty basic move, Carter.” There’s no sting to her barb.
“You underestimate me.”
In the arcade at the drive-in, Ashley kicks my ass in Mortal Kombat, but I make a comeback in Ms. Pac-Man.
“Why is she a Ms and not Miss? Or Mrs?” I ask while Ashley gobbles up ghosts on the screen.
“Are you really asking that?” Her hands freeze as she faces me.
“I’m unfamiliar with the lady Pac-Man’s origin story.”
“She’s a feminist icon.” The sad sound of her player coming in contact with a ghost ends the game. “You made me lose.”
“I didn’t make you do anything? You were distracted.”
She pulls another quarter from the stack and inserts it. “I get another chance.”
“I’ll be a statue.” I pretend to zip my lips shut before standing as quietly as possible.
Her brow furrows with concentration. “I’m going to wipe the floor with you.”
She loses and curses the joystick.
“Hmm, seems you’re only good at the games involving combat and blood.”
“I enjoy ass-kicking as much as the next girl. Should we play another game? Something new? I think I saw Dance-Dance Revolution over in the corner.” Her eyes sparkle with amusement and challenge.
“No way.”
“Come on. I want to see your moves.” She tugs at my sleeve. “One round. I won’t even video it.”
“I’m regretting the hot dog I had from the snack bar. And the fries. This is all a terrible idea.” I lock my arm and force her to practically drag me through the arcade.
“You only have yourself to blame.”
There’s a line. For Dance-Dance Revolution. Two pairs of fierce looking little girls wait while their friends finish their routine. Not going to lie, they look like professionals with thin, sinewy bodies of ballerinas. Their tiny feet and legs blur with the quick steps.
I draw the line. “No way am I going to humiliate myself in front of these tiny dancers.”
“You care what a group of tween girls thinks about you? Talk about humiliating.” Her lips curl with a teasing grin.
I can’t argue with her logic. “Making idiots out of ourselves is what us Kelso men do best.”
“See? When aren’t you willing to make a fool of yourself? It’s part of your charm.”
“Pfft, I can be charming without the public embarrassment,” I grumble and pout.
One of the mini ballerinas in front of us turns around. Her mouth pulls down in a frown. “Aren’t you like a little old for this?”
Throw down from a brat? Not on my date. “I know moves you haven’t even been taught yet.”
Now I’m challenging a child to a dance off? I’ve lost my mind.
Beside me, Ashely snorts and pats my ass like a coach sending me into a game. “Go get ’em, Tiger.”
My dance moves need some work, but I should win extra points for effort.
I go down in a glorious ball of flames.
My new archnemisis in a pair of unicorn leggings and braces earns a high enough score to enter her initials on the leader screen.
My failure is not only spectacular, apparently, it’s also hysterical if you’re a smug twelve-year-old girl. Or Ashley, who is resting her forehead on the railing at the back of the dance platform. Her whole body shakes with laugher. The evil machine continues playing its taunting bass beat and encouraging everyone to “dance dance revolution.”
“Don’t pee yourself in public from laughing.” I poke the top of Ashley’s head.
“I can’t breathe,” she sputters. “Help me.”
“To quote the wise Ashley Kingston, you did it to yourself. I tried to warn you.”
She lifts her head. Tears sparkle in her eyes and on her lower lashes. “I’ve seen hippos with faster footwork, and they have webbed feet.”
“Gee, thanks. I thought I was more of an unsteady, tired toddler about to faceplant.”
“Why didn’t I get video of that?” She grins.
“Because you know the pain of a viral video?” I pause at mentioning her meat throwing video in the grocery store. Not her best moment or one I mean to bring up and ruin our night.
“Hmm, this feels different. Funnier.” She doesn’t even grimace over my comment. Instead, she links her arm with mine as she finally steps away from the game from hell. “It might not ever stop being funny. How much would I have to pay you to do those moves at my whim?”
“I think I’ll have to turn down that offer. Thank you very much.” I steer us out of the arcade into the darkening evening light. The smell of buttered popcorn floats through the air from the snack bar. “You can buy me popcorn to make up for forcing me to embarrass myself.”
“No one can make you do anything. Don’t pass the blame, mister.” She untwines her arm and gives me a gentle shove on my lower back, pointing us in the direction of the heavenly smell. “What happened to you complaining about being full?”
“I regretted the hot dog. Said nothing about not having room for popcorn. With extra butter.”
Once we’re loaded with snacks, we wind our way through the aisles between cars to the second row in front of the screen. I flip the tailgate and set down the box of junk food. Ashley swings herself up like a girl who’s been hopping into pickups her entire life.
“Hold on,” I tell her as I unlock the cab and open the driver’s door. Reaching into the backseat, I slide open the rear window. “Here. Grab these.”
I pass her the stack of blankets. The cushions I stole off the couch are too big for the opening, so I carry those around to the side. “This is everything.”
“You planned ahead.” She unfurls a blanket and lays it on the truck bed.
I hop up and join her, helping to spread out the blankets and cushions. “If I’m going to do something, I’m doing it right.”
“Secret perfectionist?” Handing me the tray of snacks, she sits on one of the cushions and unfolds a blanket on her lap.
“Always have been. If I can’t do something right the first or second time, I tend to bail. Walking away is easier than sucking at something.” I set down the popcorn and candy. “If I’ve never tried, how can I fail?”
She munches a handful of popcorn, her expression thoughtful. “I can totally see that. Makes sense you liked the groundskeeper job.”
“Why?” I’m confused by the leap from failed perfectionist.
“You could see your work at the end of the day. Rows of freshly cut grass in perfect lines and neat patterns.”
“I never thought about that.” I steal a few kernels and toss them into my mouth. “The goats are more chaotic.”
“Maybe you’re getting comfortable accepting the mess of life.”
“I prefer organization and control.”
“I know.” She shares her blanket, draping it over my legs.
“Does it annoy you?” I hold her hand on my thigh.
“Strangely enough, no. At first, yes. I wanted to throttle you. But you wouldn’t give up. Perseverance is sexy.”
“Really? Does this mean I don’t need to apologize about the stalking?” I’m not at all sorry.
“Apology accepted, but you can stop now. One creepy potential stalker is enough for this girl. Plus, you make a terrible stalker. You have zero covert skills. It was kind of like being followed by a golden retriever puppy.”
“I’ll take the compliment. Who doesn’t love a puppy? Only monsters. That’s who.”
Laughing, she reclines against the pillows. “Do you remember the last time we came to a movie here?”
“I do. Wasn’t it one of the Matrix movies? I don’t remember much of the plot, but I remember all the action inside the cab.”
“You brought me home ten minutes after curfew. Mom had the floodlights turned on and we could see the glow from the main road.”
I cringe at the memory. “Is that the time your dad leaned the gun against the side of the porch next to his chair? Because I thought about joining the Navy that night to escape his wrath.”
“Better than the time I came home with my shirt inside out and pine needles in my hair.” She reclines against the cushions propped up against the outside of the cab.
“Your mom’s phone call woke up the entire house. I could hear her yelling at my mom through the receiver from the top of the stairs.”
We settle into a quiet that only comes from recalling old memories. The giant movie screen flickers to life and a collective applause echoes throughout the parked cars. A few people whoop with enthusiasm.
“This is fun,” Ashley whispers, her head resting on the same pillow as mine.
“Glad you’re enjoying yourself.” I roll closer, close enough to press a quick kiss along her temple. “Me too.”
On the screen, Captain America and crew fight the latest villain’s threat to life and liberty. I spend most of the movie staring at Ashley out of the corner of my eye. Sometimes I turn my head and watch the lights flicker across her face. If she catches me, I twist away, but find it impossible to squelch the smile on my face.
Facing the screen, she whispers, “Watch the movie, Carter.”
“I’d rather look at your beautiful face.”
“We should’ve bought the nachos to go with the cheese you’re spreading.”
“It’s true. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve seen. Always have been. Always will be.”
A soft, disbelieving laugh escapes her mouth in response.
Cupping her cheek, I gently turn her face toward me. “Believe me. I’m not playing games with you.”
In the dim shadows, her focus bounces between my eyes and my mouth. “For some reason, I do.”
Overwhelmed by her trust in me and the nostalgia for our more innocent days, I break my date rule.
I slide my fingers into her hair before pressing my lips at the corner of her mouth. Her lips open slightly with her surprised inhale. I softly run my tongue along her bottom lip before sliding into her mouth. She responds, thrusting her tongue against mine.
Her mouth tastes of salt and butter, and something essentially Ashley. It’s both familiar and new. I wonder if every time we kiss I’ll be transported back in time or if our new memories will replace our firsts.
She hums when I roll her on her back, shifting over her. Her fingers twist in my hair near my neck. When she pulls, I groan at the mix of pain and pleasure.
I pull the blanket up, covering all but the tops of our heads, creating a cocoon and some privacy. Not that anyone can see us tucked down in the truck’s bed. And I’m sure we’re not the only two people making out right now.
I lose sense of time and the world outside of us as we continue to kiss. Our hands stay above the waist and over our clothes. In unspoken agreement, we both keep things PG. There’s something hot in the innocence of kissing without the goal being sex.
Engines roar to life around us, breaking us out of our make out haze. I give her one last peck to her kiss-swollen lips and sit up. Cars are already pulling out onto the road and a long line of idling vehicles winds through the lot behind us.
Next to me, Ashley pops up in surprise. “Wow. What is it about drive-ins?”
Her hair is a wild nest on her head. I comb my fingers through my own hair, feeling the spikes and knots in the longer section on top.
“For the record, I had no plans to maul you tonight.”
“I’m glad you did. I was beginning to believe you’re made of steel.”
At least one part of me is as hard as a steel rod right now. She probably felt it against her leg. We might be older, but my body reacts to her like a teenager. I wonder how much of that is memory and how much is our current chemistry. I doubt I’ll ever be able to separate the two.