"This is my thinking tree," said Ted, as he knelt down on the jacket. "Let me show you how it works." Emily knelt next to him, and he sat with his back against the old tree. Knees bent, he spread his legs and invited her to sit, and lean back against his chest. Emily didn't hesitate, and lay back against him, leaning to one side so she could see his face.
She'd never been this close to Ted's face, and craned her neck and studied it. She saw the stubble that was always there, even on Sunday mornings. She saw a scar on his chin that she'd never noticed before. She saw the smile on his lips. She saw every eyelash and wrinkle. She saw his eyes.
"Does the tree tell you what to think about, or do you tell it what you're thinking?" she asked.
"It knows," he whispered. "I don't need to say a word. I just share my thoughts. The tree listens."
Emily pondered this. "Are you sharing with it now?"
"Yes."
"What are you telling it?"
"I'm asking it if it can see the amazing view I have right now." Ted was looking down the front of Emily's shirt and seeing parts of her that he had only imagined until now.
He smiled as he said it, hoping she'd take it as humor. She did, and let out a little laugh, and self-conciously shrugged her shoulders a bit so the shirt sat on her a bit more modestly.
Ted looked up into the branches. "This tree and I are old friends. It's a bit older than me, but not by much. I've been coming here a long time, by myself. It's my favorite place to be quiet and meditate. The tree listens to me, and it knows a lot of my secrets. It knows the times I've been happy, or angry, or alone."
Emily looked up into the spreading limbs and wished they would tell her what to say. She was full of jumbled thoughts and wishes and emotions, the strongest being an affection towards Ted, and she couldn't sort it out. It was halfway between what she thought she'd feel if she had a boyfriend, and what she should feel for her father, but didn't.
He looked back down at her, and on impulse, she stretched up and kissed him on the lips. It was a quick kiss, like you'd give on the way out the door. It was unclear as to who was more caught off guard, but Ted recovered faster, wanting to play the role of suave charmer, instead of awkward schoolboy.
"Slow down, Speed Racer." He smiled, and her cheeks flooded pink. She physically shrank, and Ted suspected Emily was accustomed to being scolded. He'd have to be gentle and reassuring, and make her feel safe. He wrapped both his arms around her and cradled her against him. "I was supposed to be the one who made the first move, but you beat me to it," he whispered into her ear. He meant it as a gentle tease, but she shrank more and spoke like a girl of eight, instead of eighteen. "I'm sorry," she looked at her shoes.
"Oh, sweetheart, I didn't mean it like that!" He could feel the hurt in her voice. His tone remained soft, and he saw that he needed to be more than just a flirty suitor. This child needed a father figure.
He gave her a gentle squeeze. "I'm just old-fashioned is all. When I was your age, it was rare for girls to kiss guys first. I know it's different now, and I like that."
She looked up at him again. She wanted to tell him about the only other time she kissed a guy, and what he had said after, and how much it hurt.
He didn't give her time to get the words out. He leaned down and kissed her this time. It was a softer, slower kiss. Emily closed her eyes and drank it in. It was less than ten seconds, but it was a perfect ten seconds, in her opinion.
When their lips separated, she opened her eyes again and Ted was smiling gently. The smile on his lips reminded her of her late grandfather, whom she loved and missed greatly.
