“So . . .” Jamie takes a big breath, holds it, then lets it out. “Hey, remember when I was at your house last Friday?” I nod. Now my lungs have jumped on the bandwagon and I can barely breathe. “Right? Well. I feel like. Like we were . . . on the verge of something. You know?” She pushes a stray lock of hair away from my face and looks at me with those liquid brown eyes, and my heart picks up even more speed. I nod, yes, I know what she means. Do I ever. “So I was wondering if maybe we could . . . see what happens next.”
The world narrows down to just us, just her in front of me, just her face, the dimple on her chin, the tiny mole on her left cheek, her eyes, her lips. I’m already leaning toward her, my hand is already on her knee, my face is already so close to hers, our noses are almost touching, but I whisper, I whisper as if I don’t know the answer, “What happens next?”
“This.”
And then her lips are on mine and they’re soft and sweet and they taste like apricots, and then she stops and we look at each other and all I want is more, so I kiss her back and she kisses me back and it’s quiet and soft and electric and sparkling all at once, and Jamie opens her mouth a little, and I open mine, and our tongues are touching, our teeth are clicking against each other, and then her hand is on my waist, and then on my hips, and my thigh, and I can feel her breath on my ear, her lips on my neck, and I want to be closer, closer, closer to her, so I lean toward her and she pulls me down with her and then my whole body is pressed against her whole body and it feels like she’s fulfilling a wish I’ve had all my life and I want this to keep going forever and ever and ever and ever.
Finally, I lift my head for a moment to look at her, and she smiles at me, and I smile back. In fact, I can’t stop smiling.
“Wow,” she says.
“I know.”
“I’m so glad this is happening.”
“Me, too.”
And then we’re kissing again. And it’s amazing. We spend a little longer making out, hands in each other’s hair, stroking each other’s skin, hips, shoulders, arms, legs. I swear, it’s the best feeling I’ve ever had. Ever.
But I’ve only just come out here to stash my fleece and our purses, and the van door is still wide open for anyone to peek in and get a free show, so eventually we have to stop. I fix my hair and Jamie wipes the traces of her lipstick off my lips, cheeks, and neck, making sure to nip my earlobe while she’s at it. Then she reapplies her lipstick and lip gloss, shakes her hair out, and lifts my hair up and plants one final kiss at the nape of my neck, which makes me shiver up and down.
We lock the van and float back to the gym together. No one will suspect anything because we’re already friends from cross-country. But as we walk through the parking lot and past Mr. Van Horne and Mrs. Lowell (“What were you two up to out there?” “I just had to put my bag and stuff in the car.” “Oh, right. Well, you two are good girls. Go on back in.”), and as we head into the gym and onto the dance floor, I feel as if it must be obvious to anyone who sees us that we’re now much more than just friends. As if the energy between Jamie and me is lighting up the space around us, sparkling and shimmering. As if Jamie’s kisses are glowing under the black light like silver on my skin, every imprint of her lips as clear as if she had left the lipstick on. I must look different. I certainly feel different. Light. Ethereal. Sexy.
Then Jamie bumps up against me and puts her arm around my waist and an icy wave of self-consciousness splashes over me. The sparkles and shimmers vanish and I’m suddenly aware that we’re back in the real world of high school. “Come dance with me,” she whispers, sneaking a kiss behind my ear. My stomach lurches. What if someone sees her?
“Uh . . .”
“Hey, Sana! Where have you been?” Reggie comes rushing up out of the dark. She sees Jamie at my side and a look of confusion crosses her face. “Oh. Uh, hi, Jamie.”
I take a little step away from Jamie and say, “Hey, what’s up? I stashed all our stuff.” La-la-la, easy-breezy, I wasn’t just making out with a girl in the backseat of your minivan.
“Sana, I was starting to get worried. Didn’t you get my text?”
Text? I start to go for my pocket but then realize that I’ve left my phone in my bag. Which might explain why I didn’t see the text. That and the fact that I was busy having an epic make-out session with Jamie, which no one must ever know. I take another step away from Jamie and pretend to check my pockets.
“Oh, shoot. Sorry. My phone’s still in my bag.”
Jamie breaks in abruptly. “Hey, I gotta go. I’ll uh, text you later, ’kay?” she says, and waves and plunges into the crowd. As I watch her walk away, I swing back and forth between wanting to leap back into her arms and kiss her again, and thinking, Whew, she’s gone.
Reggie watches her, too, then cocks her head and asks, “What took you so long out there, anyway?”
“Nothing!” I say, maybe a bit too emphatically, because Reggie’s eyebrow shoots up. “I—I put the stuff away and on my way back I ran into Jamie and we just hung out and talked for a while because it’s so freaking hot and smelly in here.”
“Talked,” she repeats, giving me some serious side-eye.
“Yes!”
“Hmm.”
“What?”
Reggie shrugs, still looking at me sideways. “Nothing, forget it. Well, come on—we need to find Elaine and do an intervention. I’ve tried to drop a few hints, but she won’t listen. She’s like a leech. Plus she thinks she’s Beyoncé, and she’s so, so not, and I just can’t watch it anymore.” Reggie gestures toward Elaine, who is now whipping her hair around in circles and thrusting her tiny hips back and forth like a maniac for Jimmy’s benefit.
“Yikes.” Happy to do anything that takes Reggie’s sharp eye off me, I add, “She’s a mess.”
“Right? Holy whiplash, Batman,” agrees Reggie.
But just before we head off to try to mitigate the disaster that is Elaine, Reggie points her finger at me and says, “I’m not done with you. We. Are talking. Later.”
“Pshhh. Whatever.” Not if I can help it.