I honestly don’t even know what about her I could play off as weird, but desperate times, etc., etc.
“We talked for a while at the party,” Shannon says, “and I didn’t get a weird vibe. She’s pretty cool. She speaks French even better than I do and she’s been, like, everywhere. All the jewelry she was wearing came from a trip to Morocco.”
My brain immediately corrects this piece of information. She was also wearing the emerald ring her grandparents gave her for her sixteenth birthday, bought for her in Paris. Plus, she always wears her hamsah-and-Jewish-star necklace underneath her clothing, and that was a bat mitzvah gift from her mom. They’re silly facts, but knowing them reminds me that it’ll be a while before Shannon can surpass everything I know about Jasmine. Because, apparently, I’ve created a competition in my head, and I’m not going down without a fight.
“Why don’t I invite her here?” Shannon continues, pulling out her phone. “Keith can lay on the charm right now.”
The only part of me that doesn’t want him to call her bluff is the part that wants to know if Shannon really has Jasmine’s phone number. Thankfully, Keith is a total coward and says his romantic moves are not meant for a greater audience. While everyone’s teasing him, the food arrives, and thankfully, the conversation changes to things like scouts, college applications, and Homecoming. I swear Chase squeezes my thigh when the latter comes up.
Homecoming on Chase Harding’s arm? I’m not sure I’ve allowed myself to dream that high. (That’s a lie—I have quite literally had this dream many, many times, and I always wake up in a terrible mood when I realize it’s just the work of my horny brain. It is item number two on my high school bucket list, right behind “prom on Chase Harding’s arm.”) But now he’s here, ordering me a fried chicken sandwich with extra slaw and squeezing my thigh and making no secret of the fact that he’s interested. It’s all so fast I’m starting to get paranoid Shannon’s behind it, like she’s paid him to make my senior year special or something. Which is ridiculous, because honestly, I don’t really lack for confidence, but how else do I explain such a huge change?
“You still up for ice cream after this?” His low voice tickles my ear and beyond, and suddenly, I wouldn’t care if my own mother was paying him for this.
“Absolutely,” I say, and this time when his hand squeezes my thigh, it stays put.
As expected, I get an eyebrow waggle and a mouthed “Call me” from Shannon when Chase and I take off after dinner. It’s surreal that I’m already getting to know his car, like the way the AC vents need to be jiggled and how classic rock always fills the air within seconds of him starting the car. That he’ll tap the beat on the steering wheel any time a Rolling Stones song comes on, and he won’tdoair guitar when it’s Black Sabbath, but his fingers will twitch like he wants to and is controlling himself in front of me.
So many things to learn about this boy I’ve been observing for as long as I can remember.
I know he’s gonna get vanilla with rainbow sprinkles because I’ve seen him here with his friends and that’s what he got both times. He doesn’t disappoint. I get the same because I spent the whole ride thinking about how I knew he was gonna get it and by the end of the five-minute ride to the Ice Palace, I couldn’t get the craving out of my head.
“You know, everyone else teases me about how boring I am,” he says as we sit down on one of the benches outside. “You didn’t have to get the same thing to make me feel better.”
“As it happens, I think vanilla is extremely underrated,” I tell him as I lick a stray drop off my finger, knowing he’s watching me do it. I actuallydothink vanilla is underrated, but yeah, under normal circumstances I probably would’ve gotten cookie dough or one of those flavors with seventeen kinds of candy bar in it. “And so is a little colorful brightness on dessert.”
“Thankyou,” he says, a huge smile breaking out onto his face. “How do you not get in a good mood eating something covered in bright colors? My little sister taught me that.”
God, I wish he hadn’t mentioned Kira. My crush on him grows three sizes whenever he does. #onlychildproblems.
And then my stomach twinges again because “hashtag onlychildproblems” was something Jasmine and I used to say all the time.
I’d been so upset at the thought of Shannon callingher when we were at Benny’s, but why didn’tIjust do it? My mom’s right, at least in part—I did depend on Jasmine for friends in the Outer Banks. Shouldn’t I be making it up to her for introducing me to Keisha, Derek, and the rest by inviting her out withmyfriends?
Even if I’m worried Shannon might steal her.
Or Keith might.
Or both.
What does it matter anyway, if I have Chase?
That’s the million-dollar question, I guess.
But also, I don’t quite have Chase yet. And if I want to, I should probably talk instead of staring out into space, letting the ice cream melt over my hands. After a while, there’s no way to make cleaning that up look sexy.
I take another lick of the cone and look at this boy who has starred in my dreams. He’s looking back at me, with those beautiful eyes the color of the night sky, and I somehow feel warm and shivery at the same time.
“It’s clear I’m gonna kiss you now, right?” he asks, and I nod.
I had always imagined sparks the first time I kissed Chase Harding, but it’s a sweet, cold kiss, thanks to the ice cream, and sprinkles feel better than sparks, anyway. We can’t exactly get handsy while holding our cones, but it’s definitely more than a peck, and I’m hyperaware of his scruff against my skin.
It’s hard to forget that the last person you spent weeks kissing was a smooth-skinned girl when you feel that scruff again.
But it sure doesn’t mean they can’t both feel good.
We finish our ice cream and head back to his car, where some more kissing happens before we drive home to Rush and The Who. There’s more kissing in my driveway. We finally jump apart when my cell phone rings, revealing Shannon’s face on the screen. But whatever, I’m in a good mood and Iwantto talk about my night, so hopefully she’s up for being excited rather than a buzzkill. One never knows how generous she’s feeling.
Chase laughs quietly as I silence my phone and says, “Guess I should let you go, but maybe next Friday night, after the game, we can do this ‘just the two of us’ thing again?”
