Page 119 of Kissing is the Easy Part
“He doesn’t care.” Josie pops a piece of gum into her mouth, chews it for a moment, then adds, “You know what? I wouldn’t date anyone who doesn’t get our friendship. I’ve known you my whole life. He’s totally cool with it.”
“Well, then, sure. Let’s go to prom together.”
“Great! Who knows how many chances we’ll get to hang out after graduation,” she says, her eyes softening with a foreign light. The kind of look that comes with endings. A wave of melancholy hits, even though high school isn’t over yet.
The bell rings. Josie stands, slipping on her headphones. I’m grateful for her friendship, especially considering where I am in this—the guy friend, the exact role I’m wary of when it comes to being a boyfriend, yet here I am, agreeing to go to prom with her.
That’s some serious double standard right there.
* * *
Josie, wearing a gray tee and black leather pants, rings my doorbell. It’s not what anyone would expect for prom, but for Josie, this is just another night of defying expectations. We grab a quick dinner, take her car to school, and join a small group of friends.
Jake, Dylan, Josie, and I huddle around the punch bowl, toasting to whatever comes to mind—Jake being voted Most Gorgeous four years in a row, Josie’s single hitting ten thousand streams on Spotify, me securing the second-highest GPA, the cafeteria lady who always sneaks us extra servings, and Dylan and Sydney proving that high-school relationships can at least last until prom. I’m almost jealous. For now, they seem to be on good terms, treating us to a live showing of Parental Advisory: Explicit Content. We toast to brotherhood—Josie calls it “not inclusive.” Dylan insists, “but youarea brother,” and she smacks him upside the head. Then we move on to toast the Roman Empire, democracy, the American education system, the strong relations between Germany and the USA, and, of course, peaking in high school.
When Josie finally gets fed up with our shit and takes off to find Carmen and Madison, Jake raises his cup. “Seriously, though, wouldn’t have made it through without you.”
Dylan nods, lifting his drink. “Yeah, I fucking love you guys.”
“Without you two, I’d have been valedictorian,” I say. They both punch me on the shoulder. “Totally worth it, though.”
And it is. These guys know everything I don’t outright say.
By the time I spot Raymond moving through the crowd, I’m already tipsy on nostalgia. He’s pulling a few shy, unsure girls onto the dance floor one by one. He does this a couple of times until no one’s left standing alone. He doesn’t make a big deal out of it, either, just throws them a smile and makes them feel like they belong. This isn’t even his party.
It’s something Flora would do. In some ways, they’re quite similar. High school’s ending, and I don’t want to leave with any regrets, so I step forward.
He sees me coming and grins.
“Hey,” I say, stalling for time while figuring out how to start this conversation.
He nods, wise and smug. “I know what you’re going to say.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Uh-huh. We don’t run in the same circles, and there’s been some misunderstandings. But we’re cool now, right? No hard feelings.”
“Right. Pretty much. And thanks for inviting me to all those parties over the years.”
He shrugs. “My pleasure. Probably not the best time to say this, but for what it’s worth, you’re a good guy. And, hey, respect for the SAT thing. Flora’s lucky to have you.”
“She’s lucky to have you too. I’m glad you’re both at NYU and can have your little movie nights together.” I grimace. “Can’t believe I said that.”
Ray’s hands fly to his chest in mock gratitude, and a faint cloud of pot hangs in the air. “I’ve been waitingyearsfor this. Your approval means the world to me, you have no idea.”
“Moment of weakness. Won’t happen again.”
He grins wide. “Nah, I need this on record. Write it down for documentation purposes.”
“You want a paper trail of me being nice to you?”
“Preferably with a time stamp. Maybe even a signature, if you’re feeling generous.”
I snort despite myself. Me, laughing at Raymond Corbett’s jokes. The bass from the speakers thumps through the floor. “Okay, that’s it. Have a good night.” I turn to leave, then stop. “You might want to ease up on the pot, though. It’s not good for you.”
“Thanks,Mom. Anything else? Want to check my exercise routine? Make sure I’m taking my vitamins?”
Thank god he’s not my responsibility. Imagine having to deal with all his life choices.
