Page 38 of Kissing is the Easy Part

Wait.Why do I care so much about what Sean thinks? He certainly doesn’t care much aboutmyfeelings.

“Come on, you used to be so spontaneous,” Raymond says.

“Fine, fine. Come over.”

Raymond arrives with two six-packs and a joint. He set the cans down on my bedroom floor, cracks one open, and launches into a full-blown rant about everyone in our class—alphabetically, like they’re a deck of library index cards.

“Marissa’s eyes look like someone gave up halfway through editing them.” Between swigs of beer, he comments while I giggle and agree. He brings out my mean, shallow side, the one I try my best to hide from Sean. It’s kind of liberating to be exactly this version of myself for the first time in months.

Then Raymond turns on the TV and announces we’re bingeing every Coen brothers movie. Between his running commentary and overanalyzing, we finish the alcohol he brought over, and I bring out the good stuff my dad stores in his liquor cabinet. We might as well do this right.

“You’re seriously one of the few cool people in our school,” he says in a moment of sobriety.

“You’re just here for the wine.”

“Sure, I admit that’s one of your redeeming qualities, but I do think you’re all right.”

I fan my face, pretending to blink back imaginary tears. “How touching.”

“How’s it going with Supreme Overlord Sean, by the way? You two good?”

“Yeah, we’ll be fine.”

His lips twist into a grin. “Why does he look so . . . worn-out lately? Too much sex involved in ruling Kingdom Flora?”

I shove him, and he collapses onto the floor laughing.

“Gross. Sean’s decent,” I say. “I’m sure that’s a concept you’re unfamiliar with—”

My phone buzzes. The sound is so muffled I’m surprised I even hear it. I dig it out from under a pile of clothes and see Sean (with a heart emoji) light up on the screen. Without thinking, I swipe to answer. “Hi, there.” I giggle into the phone.

He pauses. “Are you drunk?”

“No, no. No.” I shake my head, even though he can’t see me. With one hand, I hurl a pillow at Raymond to shut him up as he snickers in the background.

“I want to see you.”

“What? I thought you were studying.”

“I was, but maybe I can come over?”

Suddenly I’m popular again. “This isn’t a good time. I’m—”getting wasted with a guy in my room, and he’s smoking pot too.“I’m out . . . with some of my friends from middle school. Jessica and Sarah. You met them once, remember?”

There’s a beat of silence. “You’re out?”

“Yeah. I need to blow off some steam.”

Another short pause. It might’ve been longer, but my head spins, warping my sense of time. “Okay,” Sean says finally. “Call me when you get back?”

“Yeah, sure. Good luck with your exam tomorrow!” I blabber when I’m drunk, and lying makes it worse, so I hang up before Sean gets suspicious. Not that I need to be guilty about anything. Picking up a half-empty can of beer, I drain what’s left and get back toNo Country for Old Men, then we pivot toAttack on Titanto keep the moral ambiguity and bleak vibe, but throw in some giant cannibals for good measure.

By the time Raymond is pretty much incoherent and we’re too drunk to follow subtitles, I walk with him downstairs. He gives me a bear hug, and before he pulls away, he tries to plant a clammy kiss on my lips. I dodge and he gets the side of my mouth.

“Ew, Ray.” I laugh, brushing him off. He gets weirdly affectionate when inebriated, and he would’ve kissed the lamppost if it was closer to him. He won’t remember any of this, as alcohol wipes his memory clean the morning after. “You’re a mess.”

“Sorry.” He rubs his face, eyes unfocused, voice suddenly quieter. “I’m so screwed up. Forgot to mention—my parents’ divorce finally went through.”

The buzz in my head dulls. My friend, whose idea of camping is staying at a Marriott, and for whom flying in premium economy is the most traumatic experience of his life, is truly grieving. I’m no Freud, but even I can tell he’s too drunk and too sad to think straight.