A Risk Worth Taking by Heather Hildenbrand Page A

finished. ‘My hero,’” I
mimicked, rolling my eyes and batting my lashes double time.
    “I
wasn’t lying. She said that.”
    I
snorted. “And then you said she kissed you.”
    “She
did.”
    “And
then never spoke to you again?”
    Casey
opened his mouth, shut it again. “I can see how that would look suspicious, but
it’s not a lie.”
    “Uh-huh.”
Fine. If Casey wanted to stick by his story, I’d let him. He knew I knew he was full of shit. “That was the day I realized I hadn’t had my first kiss. I
couldn’t be outdone by you. I needed that kiss. So, we made a list of all the
important things we needed to make sure and do before we grew up.”
    “Right.
I remember you saying we needed categories.”
    “And
I remember you wanted me to write so you could tie the rope to that branch that
hung out over the deep end of the swim hole.”
    “Rope’s
still there too. I’m one hell of a knot-tier, if I do say so myself.”
    “I’m
impressed.”
    “Damn
right you are.”
    I
picked up the paper. “Things to do before I grow up,” I read out loud. “One. Be
kissed.”
    “Is
that your column or mine?”
    “Mine.
Yours says ‘be kissed again.’”
    “Right.
What else?”
    “Yours
says drive a tractor, drive a four-wheeler, ride a dirt bike, get a
girlfriend.” I laughed. “You were definitely a ten year-old boy when we wrote
this.”
    “Uh,
thank you? What else?”
    “Fly
an airplane,” I read.
    “Huh.
Still gotta do that one.”
    “Shoot
a gun.”
    “Check.
Next one?” he prompted. I read the last one to myself and chuckled. “What does
it say?”
    “Never
get married,” I told him.
    “It
says that? On my side?” He leaned in and peered down at the list. “Huh. I guess
I knew what I wanted even back then.”
    I
stopped laughing. “You really don’t ever want to get married?”
    Casey
leaned back and resumed chewing on his toothpick, turning it around and around
between his teeth. “I hate to say ‘never’ but … I just don’t see it happening.”
    “Why?”
    “Well,
for example, take the rest of that list. Four-wheelers, dirt bikes, tractors.”
    “What
about them?”
    “They
were what I wanted then and what I want now. What girl is going to be all right
with that? I mean, I don’t own a house, I barely own a car, and I play in the
dirt and work on engines for a living.”
    “Case,
you’re a catch. You just haven’t met the right girl.” My lips twitched as I
added, “Jenny Matthewssure liked it.”
    That
seemed to pull him out of whatever deep thought he’d been following. He
blinked, the edges of a grin back on his face. “Damn right she did. What does
your column say?”
    “Besides
being kissed?”
    “Yeah,
I mean, you can cross that off after Danny-what’s-his-slobber in the seventh
grade, right?”
    “Ugh.”
I shook my head. “If I promise to believe you about Jenny Matthews, will you
promise to pretend you didn’t see that?”
    “Look,
I’d just as soon lose that memory myself. But the image of that boy literally
trying to suck your face off is permanently embedded inside my skull. What’s
that thing in the Harry Potter movies that sucks the life out of people?”
    “A
dementor?”
    “Yeah,
he reminds me of one of those.” Casey leaned in and made a wet, sucking sound.
    “Ass,”
I laughed.
    “You
know … you could update it.”
    “Update
what? The list?”
    “Sure.”
    “What
for?”
    He
shrugged. “I mean, we made it to push ourselves to take risks so we could
experience new things. Things that mattered to us. Before life took hold and we
forgot what was important. Right?”
    “I
guess so,” I said, uncertain where this was going.
    “So,
add something new. Take a risk.”
    My
eyes narrowed. “What sort of risk?”
    He
shrugged as if it didn’t matter to him one way or another. “Since that first
kiss went so horribly, maybe you should risk another one.”
    “A
kiss,” I repeated, squirming in my chair at the face that immediately