Page 43

Visit the Grand Canyon
See a movie in a real movie theater
Learn to Surf
Order room service
Kiss Brock Morris
That one kills the smile. Tightens my jaw and almost makes me slam the notebook closed. Instead, I flip through the pages again, scanning them until I get to the last set of entries.
Kiss him
Above it, it says:
Touch his tattoos
Like art.
The words I thought I’d finally managed to chase off circle back, slamming into me so hard, I suddenly can’t take a breath. Scanning down the rest of the list, I read the rest of what she’s written down.
Let him draw me
Ask him who gave him his nickname
Have an orgasm before I die
Ask him to fuck me
Shit.
Doing what I should’ve done in the first place, I slap the notebook closed before shoving it and the rest of her stuff back into her backpack. Zipping it up, I toss it on the table, leaving it behind to take a walk around the lake.
TWENTY-THREE
Kaitlyn
I left my backpack at Northpoint.
I’ve considered going back for it more than once over the past week—even saddled Two-tone a time or two but in the end, I chickened out.
—all I want from you is for you is to get out, right fucking now, and to never see you again.
There’s nothing in that backpack but an old, busted up laptop, a few notebooks and—
My notebook.
The notebook.
The one I keep my list in.
Remembering the last entries I wrote in it, my cheeks burn with shame.
Touch his tattoos.
Kiss him.
Let him draw me.