by Jenny Han
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” A long pause, and then, “Mark can be such a jerk sometimes.”
“Sometimes. He’s not really like that though.” I feel oddly defensive.
He doesn’t look at me. “You still like him, even after …?”
“No …” I don’t look at him either. “But he’s still my friend, even after.”
“Oh.”
I’m nervous, really really nervous. I’ve got the whole rest of my life for kissing. I don’t even want him to kiss me. Maybe I do want him to kiss me, but only a little bit. Not enough to let him.
He leans a bit closer and then turns away. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch him. His profile is soft in the dark like this—I want to touch the curve of his cheek, just to see what it feels like. Does it feel like mine? Where did that thought even come from? Certainly not from me. I don’t care what his cheek feels like. Oily, probably.
But it doesn’t look oily. It looks clean.
I rest my left hand on my knee. It just sits there, naked and alone. I wish he’d cover it with his hand. Cover me up. Hold my hand. Do something. He’s such a jerk; he’s just sitting there doing nothing.
I close my eyes and will something to happen. Just to see. Maybe I’ll hate it. But maybe I won’t.
He doesn’t kiss me. Instead he touches the scar on my cheek, just for a second. So quick it almost didn’t happen. But it did happen. His fingers felt light and warm on my face. “I’m sorry about that too,” he says, and his voice sounds strange.
I stop breathing, I think. Then he says, “I’m sorry for, you know, pulling your hair out that one time too. I just wanted to see what it looked like down.”
That’s when I kiss him. Without thinking, I just lean forward and do it. In that moment all I hear are the crickets and my heartbeat. The kiss lasts about four seconds, maybe five. Not what I thought it’d be like at all. Soft and warm and sort of surprising. He tastes like candy. I’ll remember this taste for the rest of my life. I thought my first kiss would taste like a cherry Popsicle. Cherry Life Savers are okay too. Better, maybe.
I break away, swallow hard, and say, “Something to remember me by.” All I can think is, please don’t make a joke out of this. Don’t make a joke of me.
He doesn’t. He just grins crookedly and says, “How could I forget?” Then he stands up and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Guess I’d better go. See ya, Annemarie.”
“See ya.” He walks down the steps, and I watch his sneakers move along the rocky pavement and away from me.
I wait until he’s at the end of the driveway before I let myself shout, “You better write me! I wanna know that all my hard work wasn’t for nothing!”
He turns around and yells back, “Keep dreaming, Einstein!” But he’s smiling.
I’m smiling too. He’ll write. I know he will.
acknowledgments
I feel like a lucky star has lit my way and led me to so many amazing people, people who have been more than kind to me.
First, the Pippin women, Emily van Beek and Holly McGhee, the sexiest, cleverest, fiercest women in the business. Truly, you two are the best agents anyone could hope for. Next, my editor, Emily Thomas, for holding my hand and for being Annemarie’s surrogate mama. You’ve done right by her and by me, Emily. Thank you to Michael Nagin for the sweetest cover ever, and to Dorothy Gribbin, Chava Wolin, and the whole S&S family for getting behind Shug. I also thank Sarah Weeks, my friend and mentor—you have been nothing but generous with me, and if it hadn’t been for you, none of this would be possible. And who could forget David Levithan, who has counseled me tirelessly and who also shares my deep and abiding affection for all things Angela Chase and BSC. Also a shout-out to the Writing for Children kids at the New School and especially to my writing group: Melinda, Emmy, Lisa, and Caroline. Write on, ladies. You are all so very exquisite. Thank you also to the Claires—Holly, John, Foster, and Claire: Thank you for being my home away from home and for allowing me to be a part of your family. You are so dear to me.
Lastly, I’d like to thank all my friends and family for cheering me on and especially B, ma soeur d’ame, and Sarah Elizabeth, who’s been there since the beginning.