Page 55 of Kissing is the Easy Part
Jake grins good-naturedly. “We all know whoyouvoted for, Ms. Morgan.”
Sean flips through the menu, suddenly very interested in his options. Jake continues, “I meant using the platform to share my beliefs. Something like, how to get laid as a gentleman.”
I snort. “What does that even mean? You hold the door open for her when you’re done having sex?”
“It means embracing your sexuality.” Jake spreads his arms like he’s delivering a TED Talk. “I’m all for sex positivity. Mutual consent, open communication, supporting fluidity, whatever you’re into—some might say I’m an advocate for healthy relationships. I don’t see why people have to be so judgy. Flora, you get it, right?”
I choke on my water. “What? I don’t go around having casual sex!”
“No, but you strike me as a progressive thinker.” He steeples his fingers together, forming a mock-thoughtful triangle. “Write it like a guidebook, Carmen. Rule one: choose your partner with caution. Rule two: acknowledge women are sexual beings—”
Madison scoffs. There are no vegan options here, and she’s stuck with a glass of soda water. “We’re a school paper, not a BuzzFeed quiz called ‘What Kind of Walking Red Flag Are You?’”
“That’s, uh, an idea,” Carmen says. “But I don’t think it’ll make it past the admin. They’re never going to endorse it.”
Jake shakes his head. “This is why nobody reads the school newspaper.”
“Sadly, the average mortals simply aren’t ready for your wisdom,” Sean says, not looking up, as if he’s heard Jake’s pitch a thousand times. Which he probably has.
“Thank you.” Jake presses his palms together and bows his head solemnly. “It’s rare to be recognized by one’s peers.”
“I have an idea,” I say. “How about a college admissions guide? And maybe alternatives, like taking a gap year—”
“Think about it, Carmesan,” Jake says. “My message is important. If we shame girls for being open to sex, then we’re cock-blocking ourselves.”
Carmen laughs, and even though Madison rolls her eyes, he gets her attention. I shut my mouth. My idea is lousy anyway. This is senior year. Everyone already knows where they’re applying and what they want to do.
“You were saying?”
Sean’s voice blocks out everything else. Jake is still rambling about his rules, but Sean and me, we’re in our own little world.
“Nah, it’s stupid.” I glance away. “Are you ready to order?”
“What do you want to do after high school?”
Attend a New York City school, land an internship, and become a fashion editor. But I don’t say that because it sounds frivolous; at least, compared to the kinds of dreams that get taken seriously around here. It’s not helping patients or changing the world with engineering—it’s talking about people looking pretty and stylish. “I’m still considering my options.”
We order our smoothies and sundaes. When they arrive, ice cream is running down the side of my glass.
Sean gets up and returns with napkins for everyone.
“Thanks.” I nod toward his glass. “How’s your citrus smoothie?”
“Not bad.”
“Want to try mine?”
“No, thank you.”
“Come on, one bite. I’m great at ordering desserts.” I scoop up a massive spoonful of ice cream and top it off with a blueberry.
Sean reaches for the spoon, but I dodge, holding it out of reach. A challenge.
Neither of us moves. My eyes narrow. His stay locked on mine. A second later, he leans in, lips brushing the edge of the spoon as he takes the bite.
“I like it,” he says, still looking at me.
“Knew you’d give in eventually.”
