“Sorry, I-”
“Sorry-,”
There was a dense fog of silence between them.
Lane could hardly recognize the person in front of her, sure it had been seven odd years since that last kiss, but this person could not be the same kid who would start pillow fights and nerf wars with her. This Mark was dressed in a full suit paired with Italian leather shoes and a large wristwatch--she felt like she was meeting with her attorney. And he had finally grown that beard he was always talking about, she could still remember the first time he mentioned it.
“It’s going to be so prickly!” Lane said, slumping on the couch next to him and tossing a gummy worm in her mouth. “And I bet you can’t even grow one.”
It was a sticky July day and they were hiding out in Mark’s cool basement, watching Spongebob and eating an assortment of junk food they had snagged from the pantry. They were young and naive back then and the summer before college was flying by, but they pretended not to notice. Lane was bouncing yellow curls, strong coffee and ambition. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to be; a veterinarian or a marine biologist or a molecular scientist or all three. But she did know one thing: she was going to New York City. Mark was soft smiles, quick winks and apple pie. He only applied to the state university two hours away, and always knew he’d get in.
“Excuse me?” Mark said, giving her a playful poke in the stomach.
"My dad grew a goatee before, it’s completely plausible that I could grow one too.”
“Except you are definitely not as cool as John Rhodes,” Lane said with a laugh.
“Hey! All the Rhodes men are cool!” He said, “And so you admit beards are cool?”
“Definitely, not.”
“Oh, come on.”
“I mean do whatever makes you happy, but beards are prickly and gross.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t grow one. If only to make sure you never have to deal with a prickly kiss.”