Page 43 of Kissing is the Easy Part

“He’s the kind of person who gives athletes a bad name.”

“You’re in no position to judge what I do and who I do it with,” I remind him. We’re no longer together, and he’s still acting like he owns me. “You’re not my boyfriend anymore. I can finally breathe again.”

He narrows his eyes. “What does that mean?”

“You bore me to tears. I can’t believe I wasted four months of my life on you. What do you want?”

He opens his mouth to say something but then shuts it again. He watches my face, the same way he did before he agreed to break up with me, and it’s almost like he’s trying to remember my features. With a shake of his head he reaches into his backpack, pulls out his keys, and then unlatches the Gucci heart key chain. He studies it for a few seconds before holding it out to me. “You can have this back.”

The lump in my throat makes it hard to breathe. It was my gift to him, and now he doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want myheartanymore.

I grab it from his hand and stride to the nearest trash can. The key chain makes a dull sound when it lands where it belongs, and I walk back with my head held high. “There. All taken care of. Anything else?”

There’s a watery light of sadness in his eyes. He squares his shoulders, and it’s gone. “No. That’s all. We have a lot of mutual friends, so we should try to be civilized around each other.”

I laugh. “What makes you think I can’t be civilized?”

Does he think I’m emotionally immature? I can handle a breakup fine.

Two days later, I start dating Liam Turner.

Chapter Twelve

Sean

There have been countless times when I pulled up my phone to draft a message.You cheated on me. You broke my heart. And every time, I erased it.

I dissect the breakup over and over, trying to make sense of it, until I finally drag myself to her locker. And what does she say to me?You’re not my boyfriend anymore. I can finally breathe again.

What’s the point? She clearly doesn’t care. She got tired of me—just like I always knew she would. I could drag it out, demand an explanation, but to what end?

No, I refuse to give her that. I won’t stand there and ask for details I don’t even want to know. How long it’s been going on. Whether we ever meant anything at all.

I thought I wanted the truth. But maybe I’d rather burn than beg.

She doesn’t get to see how much she’s hurt me.

So I bury it all. The questions. The humiliation. The part of me that still wants to believe in her. If this is how she wants to play it, fine.I can breathe now too.

* * *

After the charade with Flora is over, I retreat to a dark place of solitude where I study with a newfound intensity.

By some improbable stroke of luck, I didn’t bomb my physics exam, and qualify for the next round. At least now I can list “USAPhO semifinalist” on my college applications. Physics, at least, hasn’t betrayed me.

March arrives in a whirlwind, wedged between the end of basketball season and the USAPhO semifinals, right when I’m also taking the SAT. The timing is relentless, and Flora being out of my life is just my luck. Imagine having to deal with her now, amid this chaos. She did me a favor, really.

Jake and Dylan take every opportunity to remind me that I’ve officially joined the ranks of Flora’s trophy boyfriends. Ironically, it comforts me. Maybe the whole thing is something to laugh over.

The hardest part is this: admitting we weren’t special after all. Our love was nowhere near epic. It was the most predictable high-school relationship, a clichéd nerd-and-cheerleader one, no less, doomed to end before it outstayed its welcome in the gossip mill. I was a designer bag she got tired of having on her arm.

My stomach twists every time she crosses my mind. As the air grows thicker with sunlight and warmth each day, the thought of her becomes more like background noise. I thinkofher, notabouther. I’m going to be fine.

It’s only a matter of time before I get over her, and I practice hard.

I practice not caring when she flaunts her new relationships in my face. First there’s Liam, and then Ethan, and then Andrew, until I accept that I’m merely another name on the list. I practice not glancing over at the bleachers where she sits in her uniform, laughing with her mouth wide, showing off all her pearly teeth. When we play basketball against our biggest rival one afternoon, I practice keeping my focus.

The gym is alive with a flurry of noise and motion. Dylan fires a pass my way, and I barely catch it. Coach is screaming. He’s been screaming at me a lot lately.