Page 123 of Kissing is the Easy Part

“At least I made sure your phone wasn’t on you. That’s proper etiquette.”

We’re both drenched, water dripping from our clothes as we make our way to my car. My dress, now practically see-through, clings to me.

“Did you drive?” I ask.

“No, we took Josie’s car, but she left with Brian already.”

“Then let me give you a ride.”

“Thanks.”

“You can dry off at my place if you want. We can head to Ray’s after.”

Sean stops in front of my car, running a palm along the hood. He doesn’t say anything.

We spent so much time in my Mercedes. Late nights, post-game exhaustion, the quiet rhythm of his breathing filling the space between us. I used to pick him up after games and let him crash in the passenger seat, watching his chest rise and fall as he dozed. When he finally woke up, groggy and apologetic—Sorry, I’m such a boring boyfriend—I’d shut him up with a kiss and make out with him until he was thoroughly convinced he wasn’t boring at all.

Then we’d go up to his room and make out some more.

“God, I miss this . . .” He pauses. “. . . car.”

“You waste this car’s potential. You drive under twenty-five miles per hour.”

“I don’t drive under twenty-five,” he says, scowling. Then he smiles. “Only in school zones.”

I laugh. “God, I love you”—I catch myself—“your sense of humor.”

His hand brushes the door handle, hesitates. Then he pulls it back. “Actually, maybe I’ll see you later at the party.”

“Why can’t we go together?”

His eyes are clear and honest, like a shallow pool I can see right through. “Because I still think about you in ways I’m not supposed to.”

The words land between us unpolished. Not flirty. Not teasing. I can’t remember the last time he was this blunt.

A hot, aching pulse runs through me, and for a split second, I almost reach for his hand. “We don’t have to stay friends.” It comes out quieter than I expect, like a door creaking open.

His hesitation is brief, and he gazes at me with so much tenderness. “I think it’ll be best if you go to NYU without me holding you back. You’ve worked so hard to get here, and you should be free to do whatever you want. Explore the city. Make friends. Go on a few horrible dates so you have stories to tell . . .”

His eyes trace my face, like he’s trying to memorize it, like he won’t be seeing me for a long time. It’s a goodbye in disguise. A lump rises in my throat. I blink rapidly, but the tears come anyway.

“I mean it,” he says. “I still . . . you mean everything to me, Flora. This isn’t me saying no to you. This is the best thing I can offer you right now.”

“You’re saying it like you want us to both move on and forget each other.”

“I want you to be happy. I know this sucks right now, but you’ll be okay. You’ll bemorethan okay.”

I want Sean to be happy too. I really do.

He steps closer then pulls me into his arms. The wet fabric of his shirt is cool against my cheek. I circle his waist, and he hugs me back, like pouring out every ounce of love he’s allowed to give me.

I can’t tell how much time passes. Seconds. Hours. A lifetime.

His lips brush my ear. “I’ll never forget you. You’re the best, baby.”

The wordbabybreaks me apart. A shiver runs through me, and tears sting my eyes. I sob against him until I have no sounds left. He rubs the back of my head, then my back, then gives me one last squeeze before he breaks away. “Thank you for the perfect prom night.”

I nod, unable to choke out a single syllable.