Page 118 of Never Never

“I want to kiss you, Tink.”

God, no.

No, no, no.

My fingers tighten around his neck and I’m really crying now, properly crying.

“Yeah,” he says, suddenly distant, trying to push my fingers away. “See? Told you it was fucked up. Shit. Because there’s no way you’d ever think of me like⁠—”

“No,” I interrupt. “No. Not because I don’t. Because I do. Because I did, Pan. You don’t get it. You don’t remember, but I do.” I suck in air. “I knew you. When we were kids—when I was a kid, and you’d tool around giving rides and shit, back in the suburbs, I…I had a crush on you. I used to wait for you, like an idiot—I’d do my hair, I’d hope you’d come back, I…”

Something’s wiping my tears away. His thumb. I squeeze my eyes shut and lean into his touch even though I know I shouldn’t.

When I open them again, he seizes me, and kisses me.

Hard, sweet, beautiful. Melting sun and desert sky and Pan, Pan is kissing me⁠—

And yet I push him away.

“Wait,” I gasp, reality plunging back. “Wait. There’s⁠—”

I stop short. Pan widens his eyes, waiting. “There’s?” he prompts, and he looks so earnest, so confused, that I have this insane impulse to laugh.

“There’s the other guys,” I manage at last. “I’ve—you know. With them. Since⁠—”

“Okay,” Pan says, sounding almost impatient. “I don’t care. They’re my crew. I like them.” He shrugs. “What’s your point?”

“My point is…” I turn my head, staring at him, like I need the details to physically settle in place. “I…don’t know.”

“We’ll do timeshares. We’ll draw straws. Fuck, we’ll tag-team you if you want, I’m game. I. Don’t. Care.” He closes the distance in two steps and clutches my face. “Can I please just kiss you again?”

“Yes.” Now I do laugh. “Yes, yes, you can⁠—”

Something buzzes in the front pocket of my jacket, right against my boob, and Pan steps back.

“Do you…need to get that?”

He’s joking, I know he is, but I roll my eyes and fish out my phone anyway.