“Of course he does,” Seth says.
This would normally be the moment when Seth kisses me, when we collapse onto the couch and start making out, and I start wondering if and when we’ll go further than we have the time before. But this time he just stands there, and I hear myself blurt out, “Are we breaking up?”
Seth’s eyes pop open, genuinely surprised. “No! What?” He blinks once, then twice. “Not unless you want to break up with me.”
I’m blushing, embarrassed. I feel like I’m playing the part of the anxious girlfriend, and I hate it. I just shake my head and look at my feet.
“It’s stupid,” I say. “But I just feel like … since that morning when you saw me talking to Kiera … we’ve been awkward.”
“You wanna talk?” Seth asks.
I nod, and we end up on the couch together.
“So what’s up?” Seth starts.
I bite my lip and try to find the right words. “I don’t know … I don’t even know what I’m trying to say,” I start. “I just felt like you were … trying to make me think things weren’t so bad. With the March Madness thing. Because you aren’t that kind of guy. And I was frustrated because of course, like, I know you’re not that guy. But there are those guys at East Rockport. There are … so many of them.”
Seth nods, scratches the back of his head.
“Yeah, I can see that,” he says.
“I’m not upset because there are no good guys at East Rockport. I’m upset because there are so many assholes. When I get upset about March Madness, it’s not about you.”
“Yeah,” he answers, exhaling. “I guess I was being kind of a dick.”
“No, not a dick,” I say. “You were just kind of … unaware. Defensive even?”
“I feel like I can’t say the right thing here,” Seth says.
“No, you are saying the right thing. It’s okay.”
Seth gives me a half grin. “I promise I’ll try to be … more sensitive about stuff.” What that might look like to Seth I’m not exactly sure. I think he could just be saying it because he hopes it’s the right thing to say. Honestly, I’m not even sure what I want Seth to say. Maybe there isn’t a right thing.
“I did like the latest issue of Moxie,” he says. “I wasn’t just saying so earlier. It was different this time.”
I pluck at a loose string on my jeans, recalling what Lucy said about the issue. “Different how?” I dare to look up at Seth.
“Maybe a little more intense,” he says. “Not that that’s necessarily bad or whatever. I liked the art you chose. I just think it’s cool you’re doing it again. Plus it makes you happy, right?”
I’m not sure I would describe the feeling of making Moxie as happy. Important, maybe. Necessary? Definitely. But I just smile and nod. At this, Seth reaches out and runs his thumb over my knee, sending an electric shiver up my body. I give him a knowing look.
“Oh, do you want to fool around or something?” I ask, acting like I’m surprised.
“I don’t know, do you?” Seth asks, his voice casual, like we’re talking about what we want to watch on Netflix.
“Shut up,” I say, throwing a couch cushion at his head.
“When does your mom get home?” Seth asks, his voice dropping a little. Getting all whispery. My breathing quickens just a bit.
“Like in an hour or so,” I say.
“Okay,” Seth says, nodding. He’s close to me now, and I can smell his soap and aftershave and the peppermint Tic Tacs he must have popped in his mouth just before coming over. His dark eyes stare into mine.
I want to attack him right there. So I do, reaching over to kiss him and letting myself fall into him, forgetting all my mixed-up feelings and ignoring the sense that the conversation we just had didn’t really change anything at all. That it was just a make-nice before the make out.
But in this moment, with Seth’s hands reaching up my back and his lips making their way to that spot on my neck, I will myself not to care much.
*
Not long after I put out the fourth zine of Moxie—maybe a week or so—I’m surprised to find Kiera Daniels waiting for me by my locker one Monday morning. She nods at me as she sees me approach.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey,” Kiera says back. She peeks over her shoulder and then in a hushed voice says, “Even though nothing bad happened after that last newsletter came out, we have to keep this quiet at school. To be safe.” She presses a piece of paper into my hand. I feel like a spy in an old movie.
I look down and unfold the paper.
I look up, smiling.
“You came up with this?”
Kiera grins. “Yeah, me and Amaya. After you and I talked … and after that last issue of Moxie, I got to thinking that I really wanted to make something happen. I know we have to be careful. But it just seems … worth it.”
“This is so cool,” I say, and I realize I’m smiling so hard that my cheeks are aching a little. “How’d you get the hall?”
“My grandfather is a Vietnam vet,” Kiera says. “I told him it was a girls’ club to talk about how to support the football team.” She smirks.
“You didn’t!”
“I really did.” At this she laughs out loud, and I do, too. I flash back to those elementary school days, to when Kiera and I would try to make our own Diary of a Wimpy Kid books together. We even had sleepovers at her house a few times when my mom had an overnight shift. Standing here, talking to her in the hallway, it seems crazy that we didn’t stay friends.
“You know what?” Kiera says. “I broke up with Marcus.”
My eyes open wider. Kiera had been dating Marcus Tucker—the center for the East Rockport Pirates—since the beginning of high school. They were a Serious Couple.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“Don’t be,” says Kiera. “I didn’t like how he was treating me. Acting like he was God’s gift just because he played football. Him getting excited about me being on March Madness was enough to make me realize I was done.”
I nod. “Good for you, then.”
“Yeah,” Kiera says. “It hasn’t been easy, exactly, but I just decided to throw everything into organizing this”—she motions to the flyer—“and that’s helped.”
“You need me to do anything?” I ask.
“Just spread the word to any girls you think would be cool with it,” she tells me.
I grin. “That I can do. This will be the perfect way to cleanse ourselves from March Madness.”
Kiera rolls her eyes. “You see Emma Johnson won?”
“I’ve actually been trying to ignore all that shit, but yeah, I saw. I’m not surprised they picked her.”
“Me neither,” says Kiera. “Okay, I got to get to Spanish. But see you Saturday?”
“Yes,” I say, my heart fluttering with excitement at the thought of it. “See you Saturday.”