Page 74 of Kissing is the Easy Part
“Why would I want to do that?” This is the exact kind of thing I might do.
“You want to be a fashion editor. Not sure how the fashion industry works, but I figure a blog won’t hurt, especially if yours takes off. Your book of buttons is incredible, but it’s good to have reach with a digital platform. You could cross-link it to your Instagram handle as part of a broader online presence.”
God, how is he now doing everything right? He’s so good at this, making me want more than I should. Better not to get sucked into this. I pull my arm away from his grasp.
“Show-off.” I get up to leave. “You just want to prove you can build a better web page than anyone else.”
“I don’t know if it’s better,” he says with a sunny grin, “but I made it with love.”
* * *
On Wednesday at lunch, Sean swings by my table and drops a jumbo pack of Hershey’s Kisses on my lunch tray. When he saunters back to his table, I pick up the plastic bag and weigh it in my hand.
“That’s a lot of kisses,” Carmen says.
“That’s a lot ofcalories.” Madison narrows her eyes. “What’s that about?”
I shrug, suppressing the bubbles rising inside me. Sean is basically declaring himself in front of my friends. “He’s been doing a lot of cute things lately.”
Carmen tears open the bag.
Madison makes a face. “That’sconsidered cute? You’d probably find it cute if Sean gave you a toilet plunger.”
“Give him a break,” Josie says. “He’s in uncharted territory. First time he’s ever chased a girl.”
We share a few pieces (while Madison glares, since Sean didn’t offer a vegan option), but there are too many. As the self-appointed goodwill ambassador of Lakeridge High, I get up and hand chocolates to everyone nearby, slowly working my way over to where Seanis.
I stop in front of him. “Sorry, Sean. No kisses for you.”
He shrugs. “That’s okay. I don’t want anything less than the real deal anyway.”
My brain freezes. He’s declared himself in front ofhisfriends, who’re all snickering like they’re some sort of deranged woodland hyenas. “Dare to dream.”
“Oh, but I already did.” He gets up to walk me to class, and I blush furiously underneath my makeup. Behind us, Dylan makes a guttural animal noise like it’s supposed to mean something, and Jake fake-whispers, “They grow up so fast.”
We head for history in silence, but my mood is light. I still ignore him, but Sean smiles at me when we reach the classroom, holds the door for me, and as always, gives me breathing problems.
* * *
On Thursday during history class, Sean sends a paper airplane sailing onto my desk. This might not have been a big deal coming from someone else, but Sean is a compulsive note taker. The idea of him pausing in the middle of the lecture to fold a paper plane is unbelievable, and, of course, everyone watches as he flies it at me.
Written on the wings of the plane is:Please pass on to Flora Morgan if I missed.
Sean and his precautions. I unfold the plane.
I want to be yours.
Please. I’ll do anything. I miss you.
Chills run down my arms and a lump forms in my throat. Tears prick behind my eyelids without warning. Back when we were together, he used to say he was mine, that he belonged to me, as if it’d make him sound less possessive. I blink, fighting the emotions rising to the surface. It’s not only that I miss him, but the ache of wanting to be someone he can’t let go of.
When class is over, I push the plane aside. “Are you in third grade? A paper plane?”
“Hey, I’m out of tricks,” he replies. “And if I was in third grade, I’d put little yes-no boxes underneath and ask you to respond ASAP.”
I laugh despite myself.
“What’s your answer?”
