Page 72 of Kissing is the Easy Part
Josie leans back, taking her time with her sandwich. When she puts it down, she looks at me, all wise and profound. “Flora said she loved throwing this party, but let’s face it, she has better things to do than asking freshmen for help or visiting your neighbors. She did all that to make out with you in an angel costume? She told us you’re the best kisser ever, but surely you can’t bethatgood.”
The memories play themselves like a slideshow. Flora sitting in front of the laptop carefully reviewing the guest list. Picking branches with me, studying the alignment to make sure they were perfect. Staying for dinner and cleaning up with me. Calling me at midnight to confirm we could shut down the power in my house. Begging people to stay sober. Kissing me the way she did, like she refused to let me go.
“Dude, you’re so clueless, no way you can survive in the dating jungle without me,” Josie says. “I should start charging for relationship consultation.”
“But why’s she acting like this now?”
“She wants to feel special too. When haveyouever made an effort?” She crumbles her carton of orange juice, folding it into a neat square. “She chose you, and all you did was . . . agree. Not to mention you broke up with her the moment it got a little bit hard—foryou. And now, after everything, after she threw you the party of the century, you were like ‘I like you but I don’t know and I’m not asking anything.’ Do you expect her to take it from there again? Maybe show more determination and less hesitancy, not act like you’re waiting for her to convince you?”
“Maybe I pushed her away.”
“Exactly. You need to show her you’re committed. Make your intentions clear. Even though you’ve never chased a girl in your life.”
A shadow falls over us. Dylan is at our table, and as his usual way of greeting Josie, he smacks her over the head. She glares at him. The three of us have been in school together since first grade, and some things never change. Jake appears a second later, pulling up a chair.
“Last time I checked, Flora was clinging to you like a sloth in a rainforest tree, but now she’s all the way over there.” Jake points across the room with his chin. “Did you two get into a fight?”
“Something like that,” I say. “But I’m going to fix it.”
“Give her flowers.” Dylan is always eager to offer his unsolicited advice. “I give Syd flowers whenever I mess up.”
“She’ll be opening up a florist shop any day,” Josie says.
Jake bites into his burger. “Write her a poem. I can even let you borrow one of mine.Roses are red, violets are blue, forget about poetry, let’s just screw.”
“Roses are red, violets are blue, Flora’s mad at you, what are you gonna do?”Dylan adds.
“Better fix this fast before she finds someone new.”Jake’s on a roll now.
Josie presses her lips together. “Surely you can do better than that?”
Chapter Twenty-five
Flora
“Would you stop staring at Sean like you’re on a police stakeout?” Madison snaps. I wrench my gaze from his table with brutal force, and then adjust my seat so I have my back to him.
“I still don’t understand why you can’t give him a chance,” Carmen says. “You’re clearly into each other. Why insist on torturing him?”
Madison scowls at Carmen as if she said something ludicrous, likeCrocs are acceptable footwear.She already knows I’m over getting revenge, and couldn’t be more relieved. “He’ll hurt her again, that’s why.”
Ever since Sean’s confession, I’ve been stuck in some weird emotional purgatory. There’s no master plan after the party, only the weight of my feelings and the need to ignore him for the sake of my self-preservation.
Carmen shrugs. “Any guy sweet enough to spend five hundred dollars on his kid sister’s surprise party deserves a second chance.”
“He didn’t spend five hundred dollars,” I correct her. “I saved him a ton, and he thought the cake cost ninety dollars when it was in fact three hundred.” Sean has no clue how much a customized cake with a Lindsey figurine is worth, and I lied about losing the receipt. “Anyway, I’m so over him. I’d rather be alone with a cactus.”
Carmen kicks me under the table. Sean stands beside us, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, giving me a glimpse of the smooth skin underneath. He sits down and steals a piece of diced pear from my lunch tray.
“We weren’t talking about you or anything,” I say defensively.
“Of course not.” He greets everyone, my friends respond to his small talk, and we all act as amicable as a group of old people playing bridge.
Sean seems . . .different. More self-assured? He drapes his arm along the back of my chair and helps himself to the rest of my unfinished lunch. After wiping his fingers on a napkin, he turns to me. “You’re done? Let’s walk to history class together.”
“Are you my guide dog? I don’t need you to walk with me.”
He smiles. “Oh, I know you don’t need me. ButIneed you. History is my favorite time of day.”
