“The way you used to stare at him like he was a god?” I roll my eyes, fighting a laugh. “Annoyed the hell out of me.”

Her lips quirk. “How ironic, given that when I think back on that day, I realize that I, too, was probably jealous.”

It’s probably bad of me to be so pleased. “Do tell, Ms. Baker.”

The wind whips a strand of her hair over her mouth, and she brushes it aside before she speaks. “You and Sam were always a couple. I had no one. I felt like a third wheel, and it sucked.”

Pressing my lips to her hair, I’m silent for a moment. Sam. Always Sam, lurking like a ghost between us. At this point, I don’t care if I never see her again. “You were the glue that held us all together, and you never knew it.”

Delilah huffs. “Yeah, well, at the time, I’d have preferred a boyfriend. I’d only had one kiss up to that point. And that was only because of that stupid party game The Shed.”

I freeze, my insides seizing up. Then my heart starts to pound with some weird mix of shock and satisfaction. “That was your first kiss?”

“You remember me in school; I wasn’t exactly popular.” Her eyes narrow. “Why do you ask?”

Hell.

“Macon . . .”

“Okay.” I hold up a hand. “In the spirit of our newfound sharing and honesty, I have to confess that it was me.”

“What was you?” she asks darkly.

“In the shed. With you.” I clear my throat. Hell. “I kissed you.”

“What?” Her hiss carries over the area, and a couple glances our way.

Taking her hand, I help her up, grab our trash, and dump it before walking with her toward the old restaurant. “I drew a number, went in the shed, and waited. A girl came in. About five seconds later, I knew it was you.”

“How?” she whispers, still shocked.

“Delilah, we may have been enemies, but I knew your scent like I knew home.”

“Please. I smelled like any other girl back then.”

“You stumbled or stubbed your toe on the way in and muttered ‘shit sticks’ under your breath.” I chuckle at the memory. “I was shocked as hell. And turned on—as much as a thirteen-year-old kid could be.”

Her pretty mouth falls open. “Oh my God. It was truly you?”

“Yes.”

“You knew it was me, and you kissed me anyway.” She stares up at me like she’s seeing me anew. “Why?”

“I wanted to know how it would feel.” I take a step closer. “I knew it was you, and I was strangely relieved that I wouldn’t have to kiss anyone else.”

Her gaze turns hazy as if she’s remembering. “You were sweet.”

“So were you.” My hand drifts up to cup her jaw. “I liked it.”

A frown wrinkles her brow. “Why did you pretend you kissed Sam?”