Page 17 of Kissing is the Easy Part
There’s no cheerleading on Mondays, which works out perfectly. I drag Carmen to the bleachers after school. Varsity basketball practices are usually closed, but today they’re running a mock game in which they split into two teams and play against each other. Madison and Josie couldn’t be less interested.
Fifteen minutes in, Carmen drops the polite pretense of watching and dives into her book. Emily Brontë—for fun! It’s not even an assignment. She deserves no less than a guy who’ll write her love letters with a quill and seal them with wax. On the court, Dylan passes to Sean, and he barely catches it. I smile at the way he fumbles, but then he shoots and scores. He casts a glance my way, and I wave.
Carmen finishes a chapter and closes the book on her lap. “I’m so happy for you with the way things turned out.”
“I texted Mads to say we kissed, and she had to ask who I was referring to. Unbelievable!”
Carmen’s curly dark hair bounces when she laughs. I take out a box of Pocky from my leather backpack and hand her a stick. “Did you do anything fun yesterday?”
“I typed up an editorial for the school paper. You?”
“Went to the mall with Charles. You know, my friend who lives in Portland?”
She nods, taking a bite. “Okay. But I thought you and Sean—”
“Oh, it wasn’t a date. With Charles. He’s in town and wanted to hang.” I point my chin at the basketball court. “This—is a date.”
She sighs good-naturedly. “Yet here I am.”
“Because you’re the best!” I link my arm with hers and rest my head on her shoulder. “I can’t sit through the whole game alone in silence. You’re a saint for putting up with me.”
“Hey, you were the nicest person to me when I transferred from Louisiana,” Carmen says. “If I can be here for you and watch Sean miss his free throws, I’m all in.”
I laugh and nudge her with my elbow. When the game ends, Sean heads straight for me. His jersey,wolverinesstitched across the chest, sticks to his body with sweat. He pushes his damp hair from his eyes. “Hey, Carmen,” he says, polite as always, then smiles at me. “Thanks for waiting. Can you give me thirteen more minutes to shower and change?”
“So precise,” I say. “I’ll time you.”
Carmen bolts up as soon as Sean disappears to the locker room. “Great, my shift is over.” Grabbing her stuff from the seat, she winks at me before leaving me alone on the bleachers.
I’ve watched Sean play basketball eight billion times, and he never so much as glimpses my way. Now I’m the only person left in the gym, waiting under the structural metal beams, waiting for Sean because hewantsme to. I apply a fresh coat of lip gloss and forget to time him.
My phone vibrates, and Ray’s text pops up.Fort Sean crumbled in 24 hours? Wild. You spent two years laying siege, and it turns out the gates were unlocked the whole time. One good push and he’s in your bed.
Before I can think of a snappy reply, Sean comes back out in black joggers, hair still damp at the edges, and we leave together to get food. He picks the fast-food joint near our school, and I watch him wolf down his fries. So adorable. He seems pleased with the meal, like he’s having a bowl of truffle soup at Guy Savoy.
“What do you want to do later?” I ask.
“See a movie?”
“Ray says there’s nothing worth watching aside from the Fincher one, and I saw it with him already.” As a certified movie buff, of course Raymond refers to movies by the director.
“Oh, okay.” Sean’s eyebrows rise briefly. Then he chews on a fry. “How about the Viewpoint, then?”
“Absolutely yes!” He means the park up on that steep hill, the one with an unobstructed view of downtown. There are always tourists and locals snapping selfies up there, but in high-school boy code, it’s where guys go hoping to make out under the pretense of stargazing. The only sight they’re interested in checking out is a bra.
I find comfort in the predictability of it. It’s nice to be desired.
On the way up, Sean stops to get coffee for himself and a caramel latte for me. When we reach the parking lot, snippets of lights pierce the bushes, but there are cars all around. The smell of weed is almost stronger than the pine needles. Not the most romantic, but okay. Sean kills the engine and leans over, and I wait for him to cup my face and kiss me, but he grabs the door handle and pushes open the door on my side.
We’re not making out in the car?
He rounds the car and holds out his hand, and I take it. “I know a better spot, but we have to walk,” he says. In a daze, I let him lead me away from the crowded lookout point. We do a five-minute hike uphill.
The trail opens up. The trees clear and an illuminated night landscape stretches out beneath us. A sprawling sea of lights sparkles like Swarovski crystals. Ruby red, amber orange, emerald green, and amethyst purple gems dot the darkened land, flickering like flames. The lights take it in turns to breathe.
“Spectacular,” I say.
“Right?”
