Page 23 of Kissing is the Easy Part
I cringe. This isn’t my first time trick-or-treating. “Dad, you’re not making me look cool right now.”
“Oh my god, wehaveto!” Flora says. “Can you take one with my phone too? And one with Lindsey?” She tugs on my arm and leads me to where Dad instructs, right by the masonry fireplace, then tilts her head to lean against my shoulder. The heat of her seeps through my sleeve.
She glances up at me and smiles before turning back to the camera.
I’m suddenly glad we took that photo.
* * *
After we’re seated in her Mercedes, Flora drops her head back against the headrest and lets out a long breath. “That went okay, right? I was supernervous.”
“Are you kidding? You made that look way too easy,” I say.
“Hey, meeting my crush’s family for the first time is nerve-racking, all right?” She turns and smiles. “But I’m glad I got to meet them. They’re all so nice.”
“Lindsey is a little brat.”
“I like her.”
It’s already an hour and a half into the dance. “Sorry that took so long.”
“No worries. Sorry I was late too. Ray was being dramatic about something, and then someone else came over. Not important. Let’s go.”
Flora steps on the pedal hard, and we thrust forward before I have time to dwell on whether “someone” is another guy. My seat belt locks, and I almost hear my neck snap. At the next red light, we screech to a halt at the last second.
“Whoa. Where did you get your driver’s license?”
“What makes you think I have one?” Her grin is all mischief. “Kidding. I’m fully licensed andextremelyskilled. What’s the fun in driving if you can’t speed a little? I bought my car for the gas pedal.”
“You mean the engine.”
“Yes. Can you feel it?” She guns it again, then lifts a hand, voice dropping dramatically.“Quality.”
I laugh. “Yeah, and I have the spinal cord injury to prove it.”
She chuckles and eases off the gas. The streetlights streak across her face, catching the gold in her eyes and the way her dark hair cascades over her shoulder. The world outside moves fast, but a strange calm settles over me. She’s poised but reckless, thoughtful and daring all at once.
And she’s with me.
* * *
The gym reeks of floor wax and punch, and a haze of cheap cologne hits every time someone brushes past. Music thumps through the speakers. After Flora greets what feels like half the junior class, she slides her arms around my neck. She smells like jasmine. The music shifts to something slower, and we fall into a lazy rhythm, ignoring the beat. Her hair tickles my face.
I never knew that dances could be this interesting.
“Do you knoweveryone?” I ask after yet another person stops by to say hi. We sidestep under a drooping strand of string lights.
“Most of them. Don’t you?” She laughs, her face painted pink and purple by the lighting. “Aren’t you kind of popular?”
“Not really. I have about three friends and that’s it.”
She tilts her head, eyes sparkling. “That’s exactly what a popular person would say.”
When we swing by the pink balloon arch by the entrance, Dylan and his on-again, off-again girlfriend, Sydney, spot us. Sydney is a year younger than us, and Dylan told me it was lust at first sight. His heartfelt confession of love was something along the lines ofYou give me a boner every time I see you.On good days they grope each other in public, and on bad days Dylan refers to her as “the psycho bitch from hell.”
“Flora, can I dance with you?” Dylan asks. “I’m tired of Sydney.”
“I’m more tired of you.” Sydney stomps on his foot.
