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“Was your dad pissed?” he asks, stroking the back of my hand with his thumb.

“Um, yeah. But not as much as I expected.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath so I can focus. Which is extremely difficult because I just want to pull Alex in close and inhale him, like I’m in a detergent commercial or something. “I thinkhe was actually a little embarrassed,” I continue, staring at an abandoned sparkly pink flip-flop by the splash pad. Instead of staring at our intertwined fingers. Or his smooth brown skin. Or his perfect full lips. “He started trying to smooth it over with, ‘You know what I meant, Lenore. Go tell him what I meant.’”

Alex grins. “That was a pretty good Edward Bennett impersonation.”

“Thank you. I’ve had a lot of practice, you know, calling to excuse my absences.”

“You did not call your school making that voice.” He throws his head back with a laugh. “I mean, you’re notthatgood.”

“Well, no. But I think I could have passed!”

A cloud passes over his face. “Is your dad going to hate me now? Are the meals and outings going to be super awkward? Have I ruined everything?”

“Yeah, you might as well jump ship now. Before he comes to find you tonight.” Alex’s whole body tenses. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding! He’s totally going to wait until we dock in Naples tomorrow to make you disappear.”

I laugh and bump him with my shoulder, making sure to keep our hands linked.

“I’m sorry again that I made things weird and didn’t let you speak for yourself. I know you can. I just... I can’t take them talking about you like you’re some sort of work in progress. Like you don’t measure up toWallybecause you’re doing thingsdifferently than him. Or, you know, different than me.” He turns to me, pressing our knees together. “You’re willing to take risks and explore new things. And that’s all a strength, not a weakness. I don’t think there’s anything about you that needs to be fixed, Lenore. You’re perfect just the way you are.”

I search his face for the joke, for signs that this is the first jab in our sarcastic dance that’s become so familiar.

But he’s completely sincere.

He reaches up to touch my chin, lifting it slightly. He leans in and our noses touch, our breath mingles. And even though I’m sitting down, my knees go wobbly and weak like a girl in one of Tessa’s stories. In fact, my whole body feels like it’s vibrating, full of wanting, ofneeding.

I close the space between us.

Our lips find each other’s, easily, urgently. Like this is what they were always meant to do. My heart pounds in my chest, and the beat is my rhythm for every motion, every kiss. His fingers drift to the back of my neck, threading through my hair and to my scalp. His other hand curves around my waist, pulling me close.

“Oh, Lenore,” he breathes against my lips, and it’s the sweetest sound.

Is this a dream?

No, it can’t be. Because dreams feel real when you’re in them. It’s only when you wake up that you start to question why no one’s wearing pants or you’re conversing with an animatedcheeseburger. So, if it feels like a dream, then... it’s not a dream. This is real.

I am kissing a boy who sees me,really sees me, and still wants me. I am kissing a boy who thinks I’m perfect the way I am. I am kissing a boy who doesn’t want to hide how he feels about me. I am kissing Alex. My Alex.

We pull away from each other, finally, reluctantly, because Iguesswe need oxygen, too. Alex’s lips are swollen, and his eyes are bright. He is clutching me so tightly, like he never wants to let go. I don’t think I’ve ever been held like this before. Everything feels brand-new with him.

“We will see each other again,” he whispers. “After this cruise is over. You were saying earlier today, in the business center, that we might not. But... we will. I know it.”

I smile at him and swat his leg. “Awwww man, don’t get all corny on me now.”

“I am going to do my very best to contain it, Lenore, but no promises.” He kisses my cheek, my nose. “Something tells me you’re going to inspire maximum corniness.” He kisses my neck and then my lips again. “An embarrassing amount of corniness.”

We don’t do much talking after that.

Chapter Fourteen

If Future Lenore had come back to tell Prom Night Lenore that I would be sitting in the bright sun outside of the Duomo in Naples, eating gelato with a cute boy’s arm tight around my shoulders, I would have 1) questioned her judgment because you could time travel and this what you chose to do? Really, girl? Go stop an assassination or something. And 2) called that chick a liar because there was just no way my life could ever be that perfect, that picturesque.

But that’s what’s happening. I’ve pinched myself, I’ve looked down to see if I’m suddenly naked, I’ve double- and triple-checked—I’m not dreaming. This is actually happening.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear.

“Are you talking to your gelato?” I snort.

“No, you,” he says. “Youare so beautiful.”