Page 98 of Kissing is the Easy Part
“I don’t like it when other cars stall me. What has the world come to? Imagine owning a Mercedes and still having to breathe in the exhaust fumes of a Honda.”
Kidding, obviously. I have nothing against Hondas (Sean drives a Civic himself), but as soon as the words leave my mouth, I remember how he feels about making (harmless) fun of people.
“How inconsiderate of the government. They should build an expressway specifically for Mercedes. No cheap cars allowed.”
My lips tighten, a clear sign that his sarcasm isn’t appreciated, but that doesn’t stop him from excessive side-seat driving. “You didn’t signal when you switched lanes.”
“I forgot,” I lie.
Didn’t he used to find my recklessness cute? He’d smile when I gunned it and braked at the last second. But today, he’s treating me like a liability. He doesn’t shut up until I pull over.
“Why don’tyoudrive, my sweet darling angel?” I ask, getting out. “Since you’re obviously the superior driver.”
“Can’t object to that. Iama better driver than you are.”
“You’re not just a better driver”—my temper flares out of nowhere—“you’re a betterpersonaltogether. Sometimes I want to do what makes me happy, and it isn’t necessarily the right thing, and you—look, I don’t need another parent.”
He nods. “Right. Another parent? You barely have one.”
I blink, and he reaches for my arm.
“I’m sorry, that came out wrong. I didn’t mean—”
“You don’t get to insult my parents. They’re nice to you! Don’t youdareimply they aren’t doing their job.”
“I’m not.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. I swear, I like your parents. I think they should spend more time with you, that’s all. You miss them, right?”
“Yeah, but now I have you. That’s enough.”
But is it?
I blow a strand of hair off my face. “Sometimes I feel like we’re eighty, living in a retirement home. I miss when we were carefree and actually had fun.”
“I can’t be just about fun. There’s a lot at stake, and I have to be responsible for both of us.” He exhales, pressing his fingers to his temples. “If you want to go to a party, we’ll go, but don’t pretend you’re fine with it and then pick a fight later.”
Deep down, it’s not even about the party. Maybe this is a phase, a rough patch after the honeymoon period. I test him now, push his limits, but I’ll settle back into normal. We’ll be solid. Permanent.
Even something as dull as water has three states. Surely we’re more complex than that?
We stand there, neither of us moving, and something snaps in me. “You said you love the way I am. Well,thisis me.” I gesture to myself, my hands shaking as well as my voice. “I love hanging out with my guy friends, partying at night, spending money, and driving fast. I hate studying. I make fun of people, but I don’t mean any harm. Why are you trying to change me?”
“I’m not—”
“Have I ever complained about anythingyoudo? No. I love you for you. I even went to the science museum with you. I learned all those facts so we could speak the same language.But you”—my voice cracks—“you can’t stop finding things wrong with me.”
He sighs, then he’s silent as his eyes darken, no doubt thinking up something to render me speechless. “I love the way you are, too, but—”
“You don’t love me for who I am. You love me for who you can turn me into.”
“That’s ridiculous. I’m not changing you formybenefit. I ask you to drive slower because I need you to be safe. I push you about studying so you won’t regret not living up to your full potential. And partying late? Getting drunk with other guys? You act like I’m trying to control you, but I’m just worried about you. Lastly, when you criticize people less fortunate than you, even if you don’t mean anything by it, you have to realize not everyone’s had the advantages you’ve had.”
I take several deep breaths. “That’s profound,” I say, blown away. Why is Sean so good at persuasion? Why is he always right?
“That’s fromThe Great Gatsby. First page.” He tugs on my arm, eyes soft. “Hey . . . what’s wrong with changing? Isn’t love about adapting for each other?”
He’s right.
“Of course.” I nod, but a tiny voice nags at me from the back of my mind.
