Page 45 of Kissing is the Easy Part

“Not for now, but I’m hoping I’ll be back next year.” I go through the whole spiel again about the prognosis and treatment options. Maybe if I keep saying it out loud, it’ll magically suck less.

Josie shakes the balloons she’s been holding in front of my face. They have giant Albert Einstein faces printed on them. “Hey, we brought you these.”

Flora takes a step closer. “I—we picked them out for you before coming over. Thought it’d be nice to have your dream man leering at you when you sleep tonight. These weren’t easy to find.”

For the first time since I fell, I laugh. “Thanks.”

She’s here. That fact alone consoles me. My injury must’ve made me weak.

“I hope they let you out of here soon,” Flora says. “It’s true what they say about hospital gowns. They’re ugly as hell. But wait.” A gleam comes to life in her eyes, and it brings back a wave of memory and nostalgia. My heart hurts as much as my knee. “Is this the kind that opens in the back? In that case, would you mind getting up and closing the blinds over there?”

I miss the days when she flirted with me. “Don’t harass the patient,” I say.

Her words pull me under, right back to where I don’t dare revisit. The afternoons tangled in her sheets. The way her hands on my skin set fire to every rational thought. Late-night phone calls that stretched until midnight, followed by homework and shots of espresso until my hands shook. I missed her as soon as I dropped her off at her door, and I texted her even when I didn’t have anything to say.

Flora shrugs. “Never mind. It’s nothing I haven’t seen already.”

Dylan groans beside me. “You guys should date again and get each other out of your systems. All this sexual tension is hurting my brain.”

I clear my throat. “Actually, the brain itself can’t hurt because there are no pain receptors.”

“See?” Flora rolls her eyes. “That’sexactlywhy I can’t stand him.”

She examines her nails and then only addresses Madison. Before they leave, she tilts her face and our eyes lock for a second. I can’t look away. There’s too much to read in them, like stumbling upon a brilliant book at the library that I must return, but for now, I want to devour every line. There’s sadness, tenderness, and maybe even longing. I want her to stay.

She leaves, and then a minute later, runs back and dumps a warm hospital blanket on my chest. “It’s freezing in here. You can’t get better if you’re an ice cube.”

Her jasmine perfume strangles me like a scarf before dissipating in the air.

I’m trapped.

Trapped with a nonfunctioning knee and blind infatuation for my ex-girlfriend. She’s all kinds of trouble and no good for me.

But who ever wants what’s good for them?

Chapter Thirteen

Flora

Madison shoots me a warning glance as soon as we part ways with Josie. We’re standing in a hospital corridor near a row of ugly plastic chairs. “Are you seriously not over him? You were practically drooling over him in there.”

“I wasn’t. I was trying to take his mind off the injury.” Sean clearly hated talking about surgery, especially when he mentioned things like “autograft” and “arthroscopic procedure.” The balloons made him smile—I’d been right to insist on them.

“What do you care, anyway? I thought you wanted him to suffer.”

It’s true that whatever love I had for Sean has fermented into hatred, but I never wanted him in physical pain. “By suffer, I meant crying himself to sleep every night thinking about me. Not suffer through a busted knee. What if he can never play basketball again?”

Madison scoffs, cold as the cucumber salad she ate for lunch.

“His knee looks awful. Maybe I should get him a brace? I wonder how much his medical insurance covers.”

“Honey, he’s not your problem anymore.”

“There must be something I can do for him. Maybe—”

“Stop right there.” She turns to face me square on. The usual arrogance drains from her eyes, replaced by concern. “It’s beenweekssince you broke up. You have to move on. He. Doesn’t. Care. About. You. I’m sorry, but it’s the truth.”

Madison is all about brutal honesty. She doesn’t do fake smiles, just like I don’t do knockoff bags. Everything she says is true, but it doesn’t make it any easier to accept.