Page 121 of Kissing is the Easy Part

“Okay.” A letdown, although not unexpected. We move in silence for a while before I speak again. “I keep pushing for your friendship because if I didn’t, you’d let us fade out. You’ll go to college and never contact me again.”

He doesn’t answer. I’m right.

“Just so you know,” I say, “I’m anexcellentfriend.”

He gives me a faint smile and spins me around. “No doubt about it.”

“If you need help throwing another party or picking out the right bottle of wine . . .”

“Or scoring front-row seats to another game.”

“Exactly! It never hurts to have connections in very influential circles. And if you ever visit New York again, I’ll give you suggestions on restaurants and attractions.”

“I can consult my other friend, Tripadvisor.” He glances at the overhead speaker and frowns, his lips twitching slightly. “When’s this song ever going to end? You’re annoying me.”

His arms tighten around my waist. I tilt my head. “Weird, considering you once said you wanted me in your life for as long as I was willing to stay.”

“That’snotwhat I meant.”

“I can’t stay in your life as a friend? We don’t have to abide by the muscle fiber’s all-or-none law.”

“What?”

I sigh, pretending to be impatient. “Sean, don’t you knowanything? When you stimulate a muscle fiber, if the stimulus is strong enough to exceed the limit, then the muscle fiberwillrespond. It either responds fully or not at all. Like you. It’s either ‘love you forever’or‘never speak to me again,’ which is silly, because you’re a human being, not a muscle fiber. You should have at leastsomenuance.”

He blinks, and then he starts to smile. “I seriously can’t keep up with your science knowledge anymore.”

“You might as well say yes now, or I’ll keep nagging you.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll start by returning your texts. Don’t push it.”

We fall silent, wrapped in each other’s arms. The rest of the world melts away.

This is why people love dancing. It’s a chance to hold a hot guy who doesn’t belong to you for a few shimmering minutes of heaven.

The song ends too soon, like a merry-go-round cut off midloop. Sean pulls away, taking the warmth with him. But I can’t dance in his arms forever.

“Thanks for the dance,” he says.

“My pleasure.”

We’ve stepped apart, but he’s still looking at me, like he’s not ready to let go either. My head is filled with a tangled ball of thoughts, where every thread starts with his name. When I leave tonight, it’ll be final. Right now, we’re trapped in limbo, where nothing has ended and nothing new has begun.

I take a step closer. “Hey. Want to get out of here?”

* * *

He doesn’t ask where we’re going, and he’s not surprised when we stop at the swimming pool. Entering without breaking again for old times’ sake, a tribute to our first homecoming together.

He hoists me up, steadying me as I climb over the fence.

“Don’t try to look up my dress.”

He smiles and shrugs. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen already.”

We sit by the pool, enjoying our private party. I kick off my heels, toss my purse onto a lounge chair, and dip my feet into the water. Sean shrugs off his jacket. With graduation looming so near, this might as well be the last night for everything, for recollection, for prospection, and for sneaking peeks at Sean with his tie loose and the sleeves rolled up.

“You’re going to kill it at MIT.”