Page 114 of What I Like About You

“I want to.”

“I do have one question.”

“Oh?”

“Stevens?” I ask.

I’ve been wondering since the day I learned that Nash Stevens is actually Nash Kim—and I’m not about to waste an opportunity to ask.

“Oh.”Nash laughs. “Steven is my middle name. I don’t love it—not using Kim—but it’s the only way my parents would let me create a public profile to blog. Keywords from my digital youth includeprivacyandunderageandsafety.”

With everything I know about Andrea and David, that checks out. “Makes sense.”

“I’m changing it as soon as I turn eighteen, though,” Nash says.

“Even though everyone knows you as Nash Stevens?”

Nash nods. “Yeah. That’s not my name. It’s not like I haven’t thought about sticking with Stevens. A pen name is kind of a safety net, you know? But if I publish REX someday, it’ll be as Nash Kim. That’s who I want to be to the world.”

My pen name kind of feels like the opposite of a safety net right now, but I know exactly what he means. “It’s cool.”

Nash releases his hand from mine and reaches across me for his sketchbook. “This is cooler, I promise.”

He flips through the pages and opens to panels I’ve never seen before, upcoming REX pages. An establishing sketch of a skyline—oh,so Rex is going to look for Terry in New York City next. Rex tries to interact with pedestrians, but they’re all either indifferent or unhelpful or scared of the timid dinosaur.

I run my fingers over the pages because it’s amazing seeing the beginning stages of art. Each line is drawn with care and every word of dialogue is written by hand, with intention. Nash explains the process of creating REX. Every panel is hand drawn, scanned, and filled in with Photoshop. A single panel is a full day’s work from beginning to end. It’s why he only posts once a week now—he couldn’t keep up with it twice a week once AP classes became a thing.

“This is top secret stuff, Upstate.”

A tear—mytear—splashes on REX #224.

I don’t know when everything between Nash and me got so real.

Nash looks at me, eyes wide. “Whoa, hey. Why are you crying?”

“It’s beautiful,” I say. “You’rebeautiful.”

Then I lean forward and kiss Nash because I want to remember this moment, thisfeelingwhile I still live in a world where Kels isn’t real. It always starts off innocently, our kisses. Slow and sweet, until I’m tired of slow and sweet. Then I deepen the kiss and twist my fingers in his hair—did I ever mention how much I love his hair? His hands slide down to my hips and we rotate so I’m now straddling him and his lips are on my jaw, my neck, and oh myGodI want.

I want, I want, I want.

Every week, I find that I’m the one initiating the next move, I’m the one pushing the boundaries closer and closer to the point of no return. I’ve kissed boys—I’ve even fooled around with some boys. Temporary flings with other temporary doc kids. We’d just make out and okay,maybemy bra would come off at some point—but that’s as far as it’d go. I never let it go further, because I neverwantedto.

With Nash, I want to. And it’s so unfair, because I kiss him and touch him like I’ve known him for years because, well, I have. Sometimes when I’m like this, I forget that for him, it’s only been six months, that we’ve only been officiallya thingfor thirty-four days.

Caught up in the moment, in Nash showing me,Halle, REX, I take his shirt off for the first time.

“I’m—I mean, I haven’t …” Flustered Nash babbles, unable to find the word.

“Me either,” I say.

I’m not exactly surprised, but I am relieved.

“Should we slow down?” I ask.

“Probably,” Nash says.

We don’t.

---