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“Well, he’s not right about the kissing.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I definitely can.”
“How? When he’s kissed me for real tons of times and you’ve only ever kissed me for pretend?”
“Just trust me.”
“Trust you?”
“I can tell, okay?”
“How? How can you tell?”
“I just know. I’ve kissed a lot of people, all right?”
“Look, you’re sweet—”
“I am hardly sweet.”
“—But I can’t take your word over somebody who has actually kissed me.”
“A thousand dollars,” Jack said.
“What?”
“I’ll bet you a thousand dollars. He’s the bad kisser, but he’s blaming you.”
“That’s ridiculous, Jack. You think I have a thousand dollars just lying around?”
“I’ll lend it to you.”
“Jesus, man. Just let it go.”
“No.”
“We can’t all be great kissers, Jack. It’s fine. I’m good at other things.”
“He doesn’t get to lie you. And you don’t get to just… believe him.”
Great. Self-esteem tips from the Sexiest Man Alive. “Thanks for the advice. I’m going to bed.”
I turned to open the screen door, but that’s when he put his arm out to smack it back closed.
“I’m not wrong,” he said then, staring straight into my eyes with intensity.
“Okay,” I said. “You’re not wrong. I’m amazing. I’m heartbreaking. I’m life-shattering. Happy now?”
But Jack just shook his head.
And then he leaned in, and he pressed his mouth to mine.
And when I say “leaned,” I mean his whole body. He pressed me up against that door with everything he had.
And I guess I’d been waiting for it all along.
My arms reached up around his neck, and my hands found their way into his hair, and my legs wrapped themselves around his waist. Did he lift me, or did I jump? We’ll never know. But he was kissing me, and I was kissing him, and it was happening.
