Page 6 of Kissing is the Easy Part
Sean
If this is how a typical party at Raymond’s unfolds, then I’ve been missing out ona lot.
By the time I get back from Flora’s condo, my brain in overdrive, Josie’s already by the car, twirling the keys between her fingers. “The designated driver is tired. Let’s find Jake and Dylan and go.”
We pile into her car. I take shotgun, Dylan claims the back, and Jake fumbles for his seat belt but doesn’t bother to click it before he pipes up, “Broski, what was that all about?”
Good question. Whatwasthat? It’s not every night that the most beautiful girl at school looks you straight in the eye and tells you she can’t stop thinking about you, then proceeds to praise the bare-bones Python platform you built, along with providing a running list of reasons why she likes you.
Not sure my fragile male ego is equipped for that level of validation.
“Nothing worth talking about,” I say.
Josie plugs in her playlist, and some unfamiliar indie song spills from the speakers. Whatever she picks, we listen. Being the lead singer of her band gives her that authority. I turn up the volume, hoping it’ll shut down this conversation.
Dylan leans forward from the back seat, raising his voice over the music. “Seriously, man. What was so important that she had to drag you upstairs? You were gone for a while.”
“Yeah, that’s a long time fornothing.” Jake finally clicks his seat belt. His grin is wide enough to fill the rearview mirror. “Very suspicious behavior. You can’t expect us to let that slide.”
“Leave him alone,” Josie says, eyes on the road. “Healthy boundaries, guys.”
“IknewFlora liked you,” Jake says. “Remember that one time I hung out with her? She kept trying to steer the conversation back to you. ‘Are you close with Sean?’ ‘Is he secretly a softie?’ At some point I started dropping your name randomly to mess with her. And she wasriveted, dude. Funniest thing ever. I told you, right?”
“Yes, the evening of, and the next day. And the week after.”
“I also told her you disabled the parental controls on my laptop, and she couldn’t be more impressed.”
“Of all the things you could’ve said about me . . .”
Dylan snickers. “Imagine Jake being a stepping stone because Seany is too intimidating to talk to.”
“Yeah, to beusedlike that,” Jake agrees. “Truly humbling experience. Man, I understood . . .all too well.” He starts to sing, and Dylan, because he has no shame, jumps in on backup vocals.
I rub the bridge of my nose. “Jacob. Please.” That’s not his real name, but I use it when he annoys me, which is daily.
“She’s way too chatty, by the way,” Jake says. “It’s like we were competing for an invisible microphone. I’m just waiting to tell my story, which is way funnier than hers, and she keeps cutting me off with more questions like, ‘Has Sean ever had a serious girlfriend?’”
“Hey, play ‘Love Story’ next,” Dylan says. Josie may know all about obscure bands but she’s not above some mainstream fun, so I suffer through the bros bellowing in harmony about Romeo for the next four minutes. Nothing bonds them tighter than making fun of me, especially when they can do it at maximum volume.
I try to steer the conversation elsewhere. It takes three tries before I finally get them talking about the latestElden Ringexpansion. Jake’s house comes into view, we drop him off, and then it’s just the three of us heading back to Cedarbrook, the neighborhood we grew up in together. The farther we drive, the more reality settles in. The streets narrow, and the houses shrink block by block.
“You know what they say about Flora, right?” Dylan says.This again?“Just so you’re prepared for all that drama.”
Josie scoffs. “None of that is true.”
“Not saying it is. Just want our boy to be aware.” Dylan pulls out his phone and scrolls, then shows it to me over my shoulder.
I’m in at least twenty-five different text groups, and I mute twenty-four of them, leaving only our core squad open. I rely on Dylan and Jake to relay anything truly worth knowing. So far, that hasn’t happened. These chat groups are, at best, white noise, and at worst, truly vicious, like the one staring me down right now.
Anonymous 453:Search up Lakeridge High, she’s literally under “Things to Do.”
Anonymous 17:Flora’s your basic cheerleader. Easy and desperate for attention.
Anonymous 226:Pretty sure she’s been with half the football team. Maybe more.
The words land like a punch to the gut. For a second, the thought flashes through my mind—tracking their IPs, finding out who’s hiding behind those cheap shots. Then Dylan’s reply pops up.
DylanReyes:Talking trash behind an anonymous post? Pathetic.
