Page 58 of Kissing is the Easy Part
“When I get upset, you drop the arrogant act. And even though you can be intolerably stubborn, at the end of the day, you’re willing to listen.”
He makes a small sound between snorting and chuckling. “Is this a compliment or . . . ? Because all I’m hearing isarrogantandintolerable.”
“I’m saying I love working with you.”
Our eyes lock. There’s a certain softness in his gaze, the same way he looked when he used to call me button. He bites his lip, and my heart stumbles. It’s so hard not to like him.
“When you look at me like that,” I say, “I really,reallywant to kiss you.”
He stares at me, eyes wide, beautiful, not blinking. I raise my chin and hold his gaze. Then he leans in, his lips parted slightly.
I close my eyes.
A soft, light peck lands. On mycheek.
My eyes snap open. “Whoa, a kiss on the cheek? Can I post about this and let the internet decode it?” I muse out loud. “Is he testing the waters? Telling me to stay away? Hallucinating and seeing his aunt?”
“It means you’re cute.” He laughs. “But stop flirting with me.”
I scratch my chin. “Hmm. Then how do I say ‘I think you’re cute, too, but I want to keep flirting with you’?” Not giving him time to react, I lean in and kiss him back—also on the cheek. Then I draw back, frowning. “Wait, not sure I said it well enough. Let me try saying it more slowly this time . . .”
He chuckles, taking a step back.
“Maybe with a British accent?” I press on.
He picks up the dish towel and swats at me, laughing. I laugh along with him, trying to remember the last time I had such a marvelous evening.
Chapter Eighteen
Sean
“You should’ve come with us yesterday,” Jake says to Dylan after practice on Tuesday, tossing his sweat-drenched shirt into his gym bag. “You missed a great show.”
Dylan slams his locker shut, then pounds on it twice for good measure. “I thought you didn’t go to the movies.”
“No, watching Flora feed Sean ice cream. She was really laying it on thick.”
Dylan turns to me and whistles. “Seany. . . what’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going on,” I say.
“You’re holding out on me?” Jake says, mock offended. “Your mentor, who taught you everything about dating and hidden make-out spots?” He sharedonechill location at the Viewpoint, didn’t make me cite sources, and now apparently I owe him everything.
“And look how successful Sean turned out under your expert guidance,” Dylan says, somehow landing a clean double kill like it’sFortnite.
I zip up my gym bag, letting their jokes roll off me. Maybe I’m not making strides on the dating front, but this exes-turned-friends thing? Huge progress. Holding a grudge over the whole cheating mess would’ve been easy, but that chapter closed long ago. It hurt, sure, but somewhere along the way, bitterness lost its potency and metabolized into a guilty pleasure. She flirts, I can flirt back. Having a friend is preferable to having an adversary. I can forgive and forget.
As long as I’m careful not to let her disarm me again.
“What’s the point of getting back together? You’ve beenthereand donethat.” As usual, everything Dylan says has the potential to be obscene. “It’s the surprise factor that counts.”
“I’m not getting back with Flora, but your theories are totally unconvincing. How many times have you gotten back together with Sydney?”
“That’s because you don’t know the things Syd’s capable of. Let’s just say, nobody understands what I need the way she does.” He smirks. “What? I meant emotionally. Like being listened to.”
Jake laughs, ready to contribute his astute insights on the subject, but as we step outside, I tune him out.
The door swings shut behind us.
