With One Last Kiss

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

July 4th

I met Banner St. James as a child for the first and only time when I was eight years old. We were both at a party attended by both our family and friends alike.

The adults sat around a table in the backyard — talking, sipping on their beers, and laughing. Meanwhile, the children ran around in their swimming gear. They jumped through the sprinkler and splashed in the kiddie pools, having fun even though it wasn’t hot outside.

Except for me. I wore a bright blue one-piece bathing suit because my mom made me. Swimming or getting wet outside of bath time wasn't something I enjoyed, though. I didn’t like it and instead, while they all played, I sat in the shade, my nose buried in a book.

The adults got the cookout started, and at five, they announced that the food was ready. I headed inside to use the bathroom.

Upon my return, almost all the kids waited in line with their parents to get something to eat.

That’s when my eyes landed on him.

This boy sat in my chair — the one I had moved under the tree to use — and held my book in his hands. I hadn’t seen him arrive, so I didn’t know who he belonged to, even though he looked familiar.

All I knew was that he was rude to take my chair and even more rude for glaring at me as I approached him.

When I stopped in front of him, my legs almost touching his, I put both hands on my hips and scowled right back. “That’s my chair.”

His expression didn’t change as he stood up. His action forced me to take a step back to avoid colliding as he turned toward the chair. Then he leaned in to stare at the plastic seat for a moment before facing me once again and sitting back down. “There’s no name on it.”

“That’s stupid. Nobody puts their names on chairs. I’ve been sitting here all day.”

“Prove it.” He smiled, showcasing his slightly crooked teeth. My book remained tight in his grip as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll wait.”

I pointed at my book as proof. “That’s my book, too. I left it on the chair and you need to give both of them back.”

“Or what? You’ll tell on me?”

“No.” Stepping forward again, I giggled and rested my hands on his bare knees, then glared at him. “If you don’t give me back my book, I’ll fall down and scream and say you pushed me.”

He didn’t react as I expected. Instead, he blinked, his grin widening as he leaned forward until our faces were inches apart. His blue eyes stared into mine as he said, “I’m Banner. Who are you?”

The moment he said his name I knew who he was. Glancing over at where our mothers stood together serving food, I knew now why he was being such a jerk. My hands left his knees as I straightened and held my hand out for my book as I said, “Valerie. And you can keep the chair. I just want my book back.”

“Good.” His smile disappeared as he held the book out to me, and after it was back in my hands, his expression soured. Crossing his arms again, he averted his gaze after mumbling, “See ya later, Valerie.”

I didn’t understand why he dismissed me that way, but my mother called out for me to come and eat before I could ask. Figuring I could ask him later, I mumbled back at him, “See ya,” and then went to get some food.

Later never came.

Much to my mother’s distress, Banner and his parents left not long after everyone finished eating. Their flight took off at nine that evening.

“Ten years since I’ve seen her, and she visits me only to tell me they are moving to London as soon as they can get to the airport!” My mother moaned to my father while washing the dishes several hours later as I swept the kitchen floor. “Who knows when we’ll see them again?”

My father, always the one who chose to look at the positive side of things, wrapped his arm around my mother’s waist. Hugging her close, he smiled down at her. “At least you’re speaking again. A step in the right direction, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I suppose it is.” Finishing up, she washed her hands, turned the faucet off, and turned to me while drying them. “Valerie, I saw you talking to Banner. Last time I saw him, he was a little shy of three and such a rascal. He's a nice boy though, isn’t he?”

Scooping the dirt onto the dustpan, I shrugged and walked over to the trash can without looking at them. “He wasn’t mean, but he wasn’t nice either. Stole my chair and my book when I went to the bathroom.”

Both she and my father laughed for a second before she said, “Oh, honey. That’s just boys for you. Judy said he’s not happy about moving away from his friends and who can blame the poor boy? His whole life was in California, but he’ll adjust.”

I acknowledged what she said with a nod before they left the room. Beyond that, I didn’t think much about it. I had more important things to do, such as read my book and find out who the villain was.

And although my mother had hoped they would remain in contact after the visit, they didn’t.

Maybe if they had, things would have turned out differently.

But, because they didn’t, it wasn’t long before I forgot all about him.