ONE
Sara
Tonight is the perfect time to begin romanticizing my life.
Why haven’t I thought of this sooner? The moon hangs bright and whimsical in the sky, surrounded by glimmering stars. Wood smoke and a hint of cinnamon fill the air, a sign fall is officially here, and I’m so blissfully happy that I could burst like a confetti popper, leaving a thousand shimmering sparkles in my wake. I wouldn’t change a thing.
I’m walking to the subway with Vicky and Patrick, who has taken it upon himself to belt the happy birthday song as loudly as his vocal cords will allow. No one asked him to do this, least of all me—the actual birthday girl—but Patrick just carries on like he’s on one of those reality singing shows. He prances ahead, in full production mode.
Vicky threads her arm through mine. “How many more times, do you think?”
“Please,” I moan. “Let this be the last.”
Spoiler alert: it’s not. In fact, he’s not watching where he’s going and nearly collides with an elderly gentleman, who admonishes him for his volume.
Patrick remains unfazed, jollier than ever. “Sorry, sir. It’s my friend’s birthday.”
“Is it?” the man deadpans. “I couldn’t tell.”
Once he’s out of earshot, I tug Vicky toward the subway entrance. “You’re so embarrassing!” I say to Patrick, praying he’s not about to start up again.
Lucky for me, he doesn’t.
It’s late for a school night, but my dad doesn’t mind since this is my birthday outing. Plus, I’m with family. Vicky’s my cousin, and when Patrick suggested we go to my favorite hot pot place to celebrate, I said we couldn’t go without her. Obviously. Most days, Vicky works at Kiki’s Chicken Kitchen after school, which is very good, though not as good as hot pot. Anyway, I couldn’t have asked for anything better. Except the singing. I can do without the singing.
The three of us pay our fare and navigate through the turnstile. Our train’s not due for several minutes, so Vicky and I leisurely descend the steps after Patrick.
“Can you believe you’re finally eighteen, Sara Lin?”
“I mean, nothing’s changed,” I say. “It’s just a number.”
“I can’t believe it.” Vicky beams. “It’s like you’re an adult now!”
“An adult?” Patrick cackles. “Sara Lin stilllookslike a kid. And let’s not forget she’s never even kissed a boy.”
I gasp. “Patrick.”
He’s not wrong. I tell Patrick everything—he’s been my best friend for ages—so he’d be the first to know if these lips had had any action. A twist of discomfort tilts in my belly. Does that make me pathetic? That I’m eighteen now, and haven’t had my first kiss yet?
“Well,” Vicky says, “it’s kindatrue. And senior year just started.”
Not her too.
I groan. “Stop reminding me.”
Vicky only gives me a playful nudge. “You gotta get on it!”
“Excuse me,” I say. “It’s not like I can control that kind of thing. I just haven’t had the opportunity yet, otherwise—”
Otherwise, what? Would I have kissed someone? Surely I would have, except—well. You know in all those romantic films where feelings build between the two leads and then they finally realize they care for each other? There’s a wholemoment. The music swells. They look into each other’s eyes. And it’s like the whole world stops. Their lips meet and—I don’t know—everything just makes sense. It’s perfect.
That’s what I want my first kiss to feel like.
Patrick swivels around. “So you’re saying all you need is an opportunity? And you’ll just, what? Do it?” He grins. “I can give you an opportunity right now.”
And before I can process what’s happening, he moves in close. On the stairs we’re now the same height, and his eyes are so blue—an ocean on a clear day kind of blue—and I feel all the blood in my body rush straight into my cheeks, painting my fair skin red, which is an all-too-common occurrence if you’re a natural ginger like me. I, unfortunately, can never hide a blush.
“Wh-what do you mean?” I stutter. “That—you? You want to just—?”
