How his his breath mixed with mine.
My heartbeat speeds up again, ridiculous.
And then the call.
Thank god for his mom.
And also: curse his mom.
And also: I hope she’s okay.
And also:wow, Elena, you are unhinged.
I exhale, long and shaky.
I should be mortified. Maybe ashamed. I’ve never been…that direct with someone. Telling him those ideas I’ve had of how this should be casual. If itwereanything. I’ve never been a casual girl. The words just slipped out, somehow.
I should be telling myself to delete his number, cancel Tuesday, go to church or something to clean up my line of thinking.
Instead I’m smiling like an idiot, weaving through pedestrians like gravity works differently for me now.
I pull out my phone.
My thumbs hover.
No.
Do NOT text him.
I lock my phone.
I unlock it.
Then lock it again.
Get it together.
I march down the block, heels clicking too fast, still buzzing in places a woman should not buzz publicly.
Harper.
I need Harper.
I call her.
She answers on the first ring. “Girl—TELL ME EVERYTHING.”
I laugh, breathless, panicked, exhilarated.
“Harper…he pushed me against a wall.”
“OH MY SWEET LORD.”
“Harper—HE WAS GOING TO KISS ME.”
I can hear her gasp so hard she chokes on air. “WHAT STOP! ARE YOU SERIOUS?!”
“And then his mom called.”
