JUNE 2014

Jill

Our first kiss was in Paris. How cliche is that? 

It was the third race of that second summer, and the first time I beat everyone else to a first place finish. Up on the podium, I didn’t know what to expect when I looked at Maeve — was she going to be upset that she didn’t win, worried that I was a threat to her? But when I looked to my right, her face was focused on me and she was beaming like she’d been the one to win. My whole body flushed warm and I lost all focus on anything but her.  

Along with Maeve and I, Emma and a couple of the other girls had organized a few days in Paris after the race since we didn’t have another one for two weeks. Apparently everyone else, growing up in Europe and racing in this league for over a year, had already been to Paris — some multiple times. But I’d been approximately nowhere and after some convincing and talking to Maeve’s parents for assurances, my dad relented and let me go with them. Emma and Helene (who was French, herself) rolled their eyes at my suggestions of going to The Louvre and the Eiffel Tower and all the other popular sights as something too touristy and uncool for them, but Maeve volunteered to join me for every one. At the top of the Eiffel Tower, I turned back to her from staring at the view and found she’d been looking at me. I didn’t know how long she had been. 

“Maeve… why are you looking at me like that?” Her gaze was so intense it might as well have been a spotlight. In the year since I’d met her, I’d realized that what I thought was a “girl crush” on my new friend was actually just a… crush crush. I’d spent an astronomically high amount of time thinking about what her lips would feel like on mine. I knew she liked girls because she’d referenced an ex-girlfriend a few times. But I had no idea if she liked… me. Trying to find out seemed like the quickest way to ruin our friendship. 

“Because you’re the most beautiful thing there is to look at right now.” 

A choked, awkward laugh of disbelief escaped me. She took a step toward me and my brain short-circuited. “Maeve, I —”

She stopped and so did my words. Her face fell. “Oh no, have I got this all wrong?” 

I shook my head and closed the gap between us, taking her hands in mine. “No,” I insisted, “I just…” I just… what? I just need to take a moment for my brain to catch up? I just need to pinch myself to make sure this is actually happening? I just worry about what this means and what happens next and everything else? What was I even trying to say? I decided to stop talking and overthinking it and pressed forward to kiss her. After a moment, I could feel the smile form on her lips before she kissed me back, a hand moving up to cup my face. 

The strawberry smell of her shampoo surrounded me. Her lips were soft and she tasted like vanilla and lemon from the crepes we’d had on the walk to the park. Her tongue gently pressed into my mouth, very different from the insistent poking and prodding of the boys I’d kissed up to that point. I was still processing, cataloging the differences when she pulled back and smiled at me. 

“So, should I take that as a sign you like me, too?” She asked with a wolfish grin. 

“A very strong indication, yes.” I nodded like a bobblehead and went in for another kiss. 

For over two years, through hundreds of tube and train rides, car races and concerts, rushed lunches and cheeky Nando’s, family dinners and late nights, Maeve Linden became part of my life. She made me a better driver. She became my best friend, my confidant, the first girl I kissed, and the first person I fell in love with. We had a shared dream… a vision of where our lives would go and in that vision, we were always going there together. 

And then, she became the first person to break my heart and I never thought I’d see her again.