VOOOSH.
A huge gust of wind barrels along the platform as our train rushes forward, all speed-fueled momentum, wheels rumbling along the steel line.
Oh no. No, no, no, no—
The boy opens his eyes. And stares right at me.
Do not panic.This is it! If I don’t ask him now, I really am a coward. I mean, I’m a whole year older now. Ihaveto start taking chances. Embrace my destiny! And besides, if I chicken out, I’ll always wonder if this could have been the meet-cute of my dreams. What if this is the beginning of something really spectacular? Am I gonna let that slip by?
So I swallow, gather the courage, and then say, “Can I kiss you?”
TWO
Patrick
You know, I didn’t think Sara had the guts toactuallydo it.
THREE
Sara
New rule. Romanticizing my life? Taking risks? Terrible idea. Horrible. Geez, who put me in charge of these decisions? (Okay, yes. I did. Butstill.) But if Patrick hadn’t baited me with that bet—
“You know,” Dad says, interrupting my thought spiral, “you’ve been washing that same dish for the last five minutes.”
Glancing down, I discover that I have, in fact, been scrubbing my breakfast plate with so much gusto you’d think it’d personally wronged me. Lost in my own head once again. Typical. But who can blame me? I’ve spent all morning playing back my enormous Kiss A Stranger fumble in agonizing detail, rewinding those excruciating moments like a slow-motion replay.
Allow me to set the scene. I approach cute Subwayboy, heart ablaze, ready for my love life tofinallychange. His eyes open—moss-green eyes, I notice—and right after I ask if I can kiss him, he immediately jerks back like I am a five-foot tap-dancing cockroach come to lure him to my underground lair. Irritation flits across his face. He yanks off his headphones, and the first words he says to me aren’tWow, you’re so beautiful! Yes, of course I’ll kiss you!butExcuse me?!
That’s right.Excuse me?!
Well, ladies and gentlemen, I guess that’s a no.
Then he has the audacity to glare, eyes darting around. “What the heck? Is this a prank—for the internet or something?” He crosses his arms. “Because hell no, I’m not kissing you. For all I know, you’re some weirdo.”
Think that’s bad? Trust me, it gets worse.
My mouth transforms into the Sahara Desert. I have no idea what to say. Words? What are those? All the while my mind is screamingRun! RUN!And as I go to take a step back, my feet tangle with his. Before I can grasp what’s happening, I trip, my palms catch the floor before my face smacks the ground, and a hot flush crashes over me like a tidal wave.
Of coursethis would happen to me.
A lightthumpsounds as my dad sets down his coffee, yanking me back to reality.
“And,” he continues, “it’s already seven fifteen. You’re going to be late for school.”
“What? Why didn’t you say?” I cease scrubbing and shut off the tap, drying my hands on a rag before rushing to the kitchen table to grab my shoulder bag.
“I did say,” he counters as I’m pulling on my shoes. “Have fun, make good choices, and, most importantly, make sure you tell your friends how cool your dad is.”
Making a conscious effort to not roll my eyes, I blow him a half-hearted kiss as I exit. I’ve barely pulled the door closed behind me when a presence sidles up beside me and says, “Goodmorning, Sara!”
My hand leaps to my chest, heart rate working overtime. But it’s only Patrick, which is weird, because Patrick doesn’t live in my apartment building.
He’s leaning against the wall, one leg crossed over the other, the poster child ofcasual. Except there’s a wicked smirk on his face, like he’s very much up to something.
“You scared me.” I adjust my shoulder strap. “What are you doing here?”
His blue eyes flash playfully. “I’m an early bird, what can I say?”
