Page 112 of Kissing is the Easy Part
Dylan shakes his head. “You helped her study for the SATs, but she just wants someone to party with.”
“No, it’s more complicated.”
So complicated that I’m not sure why it has to happen either.She says I’m too perfect? She loves me but she’s lost? She needs to “work on herself” before she can be with me?Does it sound as absurd out loud as it does in my head?
Jake would probably say,So she dumped you because she loves you and you did nothing wrong?and Dylan would be like,Bro, what? That’s the stupidest breakup I’ve ever heard.I spare them the confusion because it’ll only frustrate me more.
As we walk out of the locker room, I search the parking lot out of habit.
Her silver Mercedes isn’t there, of course. No one’s waiting for me outside.
Jake catches me looking and steers me toward his car. “An era ended! You’ve destroyed my faith in high-school relationships completely.”
Dylan whistles. “You can still bet on Sydney and me.”
Jake glances at him before turning back to me. “You were theonecouple I rooted for. I thought you were going to make it.”
“Sorry we didn’t try harder for you.”
Dylan’s less sentimental. “When it’s over, it’s over. You good, man?”
They both look at me like I’m a rabid dog that might bite. I’ve never needed them to comfort me, and I’m not about to start. “I’m fine. Don’t look so concerned.”
Jake studies me, like he’s gauging whether it’s safe to start cracking jokes. Then he tilts his head and spreads his arms. “Come here, bro. I’ll hold you while you cry. I’ll even stroke your hair.”
“I’ll play a sad song on my guitar and light a scented candle,” Dylan adds.
They’re so ridiculous that I laugh, surprising myself. “You guys are idiots.”
Dylan throws an arm around my shoulders. “You love us. Now let’s go. My place. We’ll order pizza—or whatever else Flora wouldn’t let you eat—and runCall of Dutyuntil our eyes bleed.”
We get wasted in Dylan’s basement. Jake invents a drinking game on the fly: take a shot every time we die on-screen or someone mentions a word that starts withf. Dylan triesreallyhard not to swear, and I avoid bringing her up. I wouldn’t have, even without the rule.
They pester me about brushing up on my German, insisting we need to last more than five seconds in Munich before locals figure out we’re American.
“This summer trip is our chance to blend in,” Dylan declares. “We refuse to embarrass ourselves.”
Jake nods solemnly, then ruins it by slurring, “You’re literally our only shot at international success.”
She isn’t going to be in my life anymore. Neither are Paris or New York.
But I can still look forward to Germany.
It’s not the same, but it’s something.
* * *
“All right, let’s get him up.” Jake’s voice.
Something shifts beneath me. Arms under mine. My legs lifted. My body tilts, dragged upward. Head lolling, too heavy to hold up. My brain is syrup.
A pillow slips under my head. A blanket drapes over me.
“I’ll call his parents, let them know he’s staying over.” A pause.
“Hi, ma’am, this is Jake. Sean fell asleep at Dylan’s. We were hanging out, and we didn’t want to wake him. Would it be all right if he stays over?”
“Hey, Mrs. Foster.” Dylan’s voice.
