Page 46 of Kissing is the Easy Part

I tried moving on. I dated my way through the senior class, but no one made it past the second date. I’d mentally grade the new guys, giving them tiny black marks every time they did something uncool, or in other words, un-Sean-like.

I miss him. I loathe him but I miss him. I want to drive him to class and carry his books until he gets better, but the burn behind my eyelids reminds me that I don’t have that privilege anymore.

When Madison leaves, I sink into one of the chairs.

I’m not ready to go yet.

“Flora?”

Lindsey’s eyes are red rimmed, her usual brightness dimmed. Beside her, Sean’s mom stands with that familiar warmth. A sob rises in my throat. They worry about Sean as much as I do, if not more.

I stand up, and, obeying an impulse, wrap my arms around Mrs. Foster. “He’s going to be fine.” My voice wavers, but I blink back the tears.

When we pull apart, she squeezes my hand. “It’s so good to see you. How have you been?”

“I’ve been better,” I admit.

“My dad keeps asking when you’ll be back for his famous burgers,” Lindsey says.

I manage a smile.Probably never.

“I still use that highlighter you gave me,” Lindsey adds after a pause.

“The pink one? Told you. It makes you glow from within.”

“Lindsey had so much fun that day,” Mrs. Foster says, referring to the afternoon I played personal stylist/image consultant and gave her tips based on her undertones and color theory.God, I’m such a pro. “By the way, she’s starting high school this fall.”

I turn to Lindsey. “That’s exciting! We’ll have a great year together. You know you can come to me for anything, right?”

Lindsey tugs at the end of her hair. “I wanted to text you, but I wasn’t sure you’d want to hang out since you . . . since you and Sean . . .”

“Hey, I’m still your friend,” I say, meaning it. “That hasn’t changed.”

When we wave goodbye, she’s smiling.

Chapter Fourteen

Sean

With my knee, my summer plans were as blown out as my joint. My grandad got me an internship at a physics lab, where I spent my days playing with lasers and radio frequencies. On the side, I managed to land a few freelance contracts as a web designer. Josie drove me everywhere. Jake and Dylan worked as lifeguards, and most evenings after their shifts, they dragged me to the park for drills, making sure I didn’t slack off.

A typical training session started with lateral shuffles, followed by acceleration sprints, where they timed me. Then came plyometric exercises, and if I didn’t do them in perfect form, I had to start over. Those sadistic jerks also threw in a random “surprise of the day” for the sole purpose of making me suffer. We ended it all by making ten consecutive free throws—if they were feeling generous. By the end, I was near tears, begging to go home, but Dylan made me buy them burgers for “all the work they did,” which mostly meant him blowing his obnoxious whistle at me and Jake making endless comparisons between me and his grandma. At least they were there for me, in their own way. They didn’t even bring up Germany—made it sound like it was a better idea to go before college anyway. When we’d legally be able to drink, Dylan joked.

I’d been off crutches since late spring. My knee improved a lot between rehab and “Bro Camp,” and I could jog for longer stretches of time. It was a quiet, drama-free summer, and by the time school starts, I’m fully back on my feet.

Josie sits next to me in world history, three rows behind Flora. Mr. Goleman assigns a written paper and an oral presentation in groups of two or three. After class, Josie rests a hand on my desk as we pack up. “Can I be your partner and not do any work? I have a battle of the bands kind of thing coming up and I can’t afford to lose time. Besides, you owe me. I was your personal driver all summer when I could’ve been hanging out with my UW boyfriend.”

She’s been dating Brian, a college guy she met at a gig, for about a month now. Ever since, she’s been acting like some kind of relationship expert, and she never refers to him simply by name.

“I guess?”

“My Asian ancestors would be proud of me for breaking the cycle.” She picks up a fallen pen from the floor. “You’ll get us an A, right?”

“I’ll try my best.”

“By ‘us’ I mean you, me, and Flora.”

“What? No.”Absolutely not.I learned my lesson with Flora—even microorganisms adapt to avoid swimming toward poison. And if I have to spend extra hours with her, my body will forget what my brain already knows.