Page 97 of Kissing is the Easy Part

“I get nervous when peopledon’ttalk about me,” Madison says.

Raymond slurps his drink, making obnoxious noises with the straw and looking at me funny. “You’re changing, but you were pretty cool the way you were before.”

“Come on, I’m still me. I’m Flora 2.0, with some bugs fixed and a few new features added.”

Josie shrugs. “Oh, hey, by the way, congrats on the SAT. I heard you crushed it this time.”

“Thanks. I worked my butt off. Now I feel like I might actually have a shot at NYU.”

“I’m going to NYU too,” Raymond announces, like his acceptance letter is already framed. “Cinema studies at Tisch. We can have movie nights all the time.”

That doesn’t sound terrible, but I’d rather sit in my dorm and FaceTime Sean, especially if the unthinkable happens and he gets into one of his backup schools. They’re all in California. I loathe the prospect of a long-distance relationship. I might die.

Sean says he doesn’t need to wake up next to me to remember he’s in love, but to be safe, I’ve checked out every school in Massachusetts. What if we got an apartment together? I may never need movie nights with Ray again. (Even though Sean either falls asleep halfway through or only watches stuff in which things explode every ten minutes.)

“Wanna go to the mall later?” Madison asks.

I do, actually. I’m in dire need of some new purchases, but I check my watch. Sean’s game will be over soon. He’ll call as soon as he’s free, and I’ll fly into his arms. I’m not placing him before her; it’s only because he’s busier and I want to be available whenever he has time.

Makes total sense, right?

* * *

But Sean sure doesn’t act grateful for being chosen. When he agrees to go shopping with me, he saysokaylike he’s authorizing a missile strike. His idea of the perfect date is one that includes me but doesn’t involve dressing up or even leaving the apartment. One that iscomfortable.

Translation: stay home, study, and have sex (optional).

Most of the time I go along with whatever he suggests doing (which, to reiterate, is nothing) to be supportive. But today I feel like boosting the economy.

“Do you really need five clones of that dress?” he asks, taking the bags from my hands as we walk through the mall.

Madison would get it. She’d understand why the cut matters, why one drapes better than the other, and why salmon pink and coral are worlds apart. She’d hype me up and we’d probably grab bubble tea after. Instead, I’m here with Sean, who calls itfive clones of the same dress.

“Do you really need to lecture me on how I spend my own money?”

He clears his throat. “Your parents’ money.”

I pretend not to hear him. Lately, I find myself fighting with him over the most irrelevant things, caught in this endless loop where his opinion always wins. It’s part of being the perfect girlfriend, even when I resent it.

Life has become a grinding wheel of “doing the right thing.”

But today the plan is to blow off some steam. I did so well on my SAT, a break is duly deserved.

“Hey,” I say. “There’s a party tonight. Want to go?”

He squints at me, and as usual it’s mind-numbingly cute. “Is this a trick question, or do I really get to decide?”

“We’ll go only if you want to go.”

“Okay, then, no.”Surprise, surprise.“Why would I go to a party when I can hang out with you? Besides, I want to finish my essay tonight. You should do the same.”

There. The real reason.

I sigh. “Sure.”

On the way home, I drive the only way a Mercedes owner should, which is cutting in front of slower cars and rushing forward the second the light changes. If a driver hesitates too long at a turn, I’m not too hesitant to blast my horn.

“Why did you do that?” Sean asks. I hear his frown. “We’re not in a hurry.”