Page 20 of Kissing is the Easy Part

What’s the point? As far as Sean knows, my mom’s a powerhouse, climbing the corporate ladder faster than anyone else, a feat made even harder by the fact she’s a woman of color, and my dad’s the youngest VP in company history. They’re everything success looks like on paper. Honestly, Sean would fit right in. The four of them could chat Ivy Leagues all day and pat each other on the back.

“I know how much you miss them,” Sean says. “Were you going to say something?”

He might pity me, which is even worse. “We’re going to this restaurant tomorrow that’s usually booked out months in advance. I’ll tell you all about it.”

“Please do. Hey, I want to ask you something.” He stalls, and inhales on the other end. “Want to go to the homecoming dance with me?”

I can’t help but smile, my eyelids already lighter. How sublime it is to be wanted. I drop my voice and try to sound as grave as possible. “Cutting it close, Foster? It’s two weeks until homecoming. I’m usually booked out months in advance too.”

“Oh.” Even without the visual, I can hear the disappointment. “Sure, if there’s no way, I get it. I just—I really want to go with you.”

“OfcourseI’ll go with you! I’d be so heartbroken if you didn’t ask. But I thought dances weren’t your thing?”

Sean laughs. “Until now, there wasn’t anyone I wanted to dance with.”

I sink into my pillow, close my eyes, and sigh. If I could travel back in time, I’d tell freshman me to dream big, aim for the stars, floss your teeth, eat your vegetables, and everything will be all right. One day, Sean Foster will take you to homecoming.

My phone buzzes. “Wait, I’m getting another call. It’s Raymond. I’ll call him back later.”

“No, it’s okay,” Sean says. “Take it. I should probably get back to my homework.”

We say a hurried bye, and I swipe to answer Ray’s call.

“Ah, hello there,” he says in a fake noble accent that lands somewhere between aristocrat and total nonsense. “Let me guess, family night went like running naked through a cactus field?”

“What gave it away?”

“Intuition. Jeremy is home, and sixty percent of the time, he pisses you off every time.” He quotesAnchorman.

Here’s someone who doesn’t need the backstory of the Morgan family saga, but I give him a quick rundown anyway.

“Poor little rich girl,” he says. “At least your parentslikeeach other. The more mine try to demolish each other, the bigger the house gets. It’s like every screaming match adds a bathroom.”

When Ray’s parents yell at each other and, on occasion, fling plates across the formal dining room, he hides in his room and gets stoned. His current house is the third one I’ve seen him in.

“Poor little rich boy. At least you’re an only child. No one to benchmark against. You can smoke pot and binge movies all day and still be the golden child.” Movies are about as useless a hobby as fashion. Every year we watch the Oscars together (despite being appalled at the nominees), and boo the screen and chuck popcorn from his vintage popcorn machine at it.

“Golden child? Please, more like a hot potato with trust issues. Plus, neither of my parents have the slimmest idea of what a movie is. They probably think a montage is a fancy French cheese. At least your mom takes you to runway shows. Mine just takes me to family court.”

We trade digs back and forth, and I say, “Fine. I’ll let you take first place for most disappointing offspring to high-achieving parents.”

“Happy to share the stage. Think of the speeches we’d give. Real tearjerkers. ‘I’d like to thank my family for setting the bar so high I need oxygen tanks to reach it.’”

“And the crowd goeswild.”

Ray snickers on the other end in that familiar way of his. Then he says, “What does Sir Seanathan think of all this?”

“Obviously that I’m this sophisticated girl who’s traveled the five continents and always has a story ready, straight from a perfect family.”

“Ah. So he doesn’t know.Shocking.”

“That’s a twentieth-date topic. Besides, he doesn’t have patience for people who complain, especially not when he’s the one counting every dollar in his college fund.”

I’m already so lucky, and I want him to admire my family as much as I do.

“Fair enough. Gotta be careful with these plebeians and their coupon-collecting egos,” Raymond says, but his tone is not unkind. “Well, if you ever need to air out the dirty laundry, you know where to find me.”

Chapter Six