Love & Light by Michele Shriver Page A

of everything. Including my favorite drink.”
    I’m glad I got that one right. It pays to be observant. “I called my stepmom last night to get some advice on what to bring. The grapes were her idea. She said her ideal picnic would include grapes. Oh, and a bottle of wine, but I had to skip that,” I say with a laugh.
    “Grapes are good, though.” Kori takes one and pops it in her mouth. “I noticed when I met her that you call her ‘mom.’ Doesn’t that feel weird?”
    I take a bite of my sandwich as I think about that. “Not really,” I say after a minute. “I didn’t at first. It started about six months after she married my dad, and just kind of happened. I mean, sure, she didn’t give birth to me, but she’s there for me and fills the ‘mom’ role in my life. And I know it means a lot to her.”
    “That’s cool, and she seems nice and all,” Kori says. “I just think it’d be weird.”
    “But you never know until you find yourself in that situation.” At least she seems a little more comfortable talking about her mom’s absence lately. Or if not comfortable, at least less emotionally distraught about it. It gets draining being sad all the time, which is one reason I wanted to bring Kori here. It’s impossible to be sad when you’re surrounded by so much natural beauty.
    “That’s true,” Kori says, and leans back, using her forearms to prop herself up. “I went to the rec center the other day and tried punching the bag again.”
    “You should have called me. I would’ve joined you.” I find myself disappointed she didn’t ask me along. “I hope it helped, though.”
    “It did, yeah.” She turns to face me. “You’ve helped me a lot.”
    “I haven’t done anything,” I demur.
    “Don’t say that,” she counters. “Of course you have. You’ve taught me new ways to deal with my hurt and my anger. You’ve made me laugh again. You’ve gotten me outside. You’ve shown me all of this.”
    “And I’ve enjoyed all of it,” I say. “I enjoy spending time with you, Kori.”
    “Yeah, you seem to.” A tiny hiccup of laughter escapes her throat. “What I don’t get is why. Moody, flaky, emotional wreck like me...”
    There she goes again, putting herself down. Someone or several someones have made her doubt herself, and I wonder if it’s only that jerk she dated in high school, or other people. “That’s not what I see when I look at you. I see that you’re troubled and hurting, yes. But I also see someone smart and nice who’s trying hard to get past the hurt,” I say. “And I also happen to think you’re really pretty.” Then, without thinking long enough to second guess the move, I lean over and kiss her.
    ~Kori~
    The kiss catches me off guard. Sure, we’ve had a good time today, and there’s something about a picnic lunch on the top of a mountain overlooking all of the natural beauty of New England that’s pretty romantic, but I don’t expect the kiss. Maybe I’m still having a hard time believing someone like Landon is truly interested in someone like me.
    His lips are on mine, though, and they’re soft and sweet and I find myself responding. The only other guy I’ve kissed before is Remy, and even though we never went all the way, we got pretty close a few times. I thought Remy was a good kisser, but I didn’t have anything to base it on, and I quickly decide Landon’s better. As his tongue begins an exploration with mine, I let my body relax and enjoy the pleasure of it because it feels good to feel something again.
    It’s Landon who breaks the kiss. “Sorry,” he mutters, sounding out of breath.
    I’m having a hard time catching my own breath. “Why are you sorry?” I ask. “Unless you didn’t want—”
    “Of course I wanted to,” he interrupts. “I didn’t want to stop.”
    “So why did you?” After all, I wasn’t exactly fighting him off.
    “Because I don’t want to rush anything,” he says. “I don’t want you to think I’m