Page 137 of I Wish You All the Best

“Nathan.” I can’t even think of anything to tell him. Because I still can’t believe this is happening. I just stare at him, at how goddamn beautiful he is. With that bright smile, and those brown eyes, and his deep brown skin, and those freckles that are so unfair I can’t stand it. I never want to do anything but stare at him.

“If you could say something besides my name, I’d really appreciate it.” He lets out this exasperated laugh. “At least a ‘fuck off’ or something.”

“I, um …” I try not to giggle too much. It actually feels like I’m high on happiness right now. Is there even such a thing? “I really like you too,” I say. “More than like, in fact.”

“Really?” His voice strains a little.

“Really. I have for a while, actually.”

His smile falters for a split second. “You have?”

“Yeah.”

“Since when?”

I don’t even have to think about it; I’ve known the answer for so long. “That night, here, after the party.”

“I’ve been torturing you with my good looks for that long, huh?”

I shake my head. “You have no idea.”

“I … I want to kiss you,” he tells me. “Can I do that?”

“Yeah,” I whisper.

He leans in, and well, it’s sort of terrible. Our lips meet, but we move too fast and bump noses, and Nathan catches my bottom lip. It’s rushed and wet, and really messy. But the good kind of messy.

There are no fireworks. Time doesn’t stop. And I don’t mind; I don’t think he does either. Because this has been in the making for so long. And like he said, if we have three months of this, I’d rather spend those three months practicing this with him.

“That was sort of bad,” he says.

“I’m kind of new at this.” I rest my forehead against his. “You want to try again?”

He nods. The second kiss is better. I move my arms so they drape off his shoulders, and both of his hands are on my back now, pushing us as close as possible. Then he grabs me by the collar of my shirt and we slowly fall back on the pillows, the music echoing through the night. God, I can feel the way his body is moving underneath his shirt, and it’s pure magic.

This boy is such a work of art.

“That one was better,” I say when I pull away, trying to catch my breath.

“Much better.”

“They say that the third time’s the charm.” I reach up again and feel his lips against mine. He tangles his fingers in my hair, and we sit there. I don’t know for how long, and I don’t care. Because right now the world is so quiet and so peaceful that it might as well be just the two of us here alone, the only company we have with each other. I don’t think I mind that, actually.

But eventually we have to go inside, because even for May, the night is getting chilly. I don’t hesitate to crawl into the bed beside him, my head on his stomach, rising and falling to his calm breathing.

“I’m glad I met you, Nathan,” I say, because there’s nothing else to say. I’m so happy right now, so ridiculously and terribly happy that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to accurately describe the feeling.

“I’m glad I met you too.” His fingers find my hair again. “I guess we need to talk, huh? Because I can’t exactly call you my boyfriend, can I?”

I hadn’t even thought about that. “I guess not,” I say. “Is partner a little too cowboy for you?” I tip an imaginary cowboy hat. “Yee haw.”

He tries not to laugh, but he fails miserably. Good, I don’t want him to hold back. “Seriously though what can I call you?”

“Is ‘my kissing friend who isn’t on the gender binary but who I love very much’ a little too wordy?” I say.

“Who said ‘love’?” There’s that smirk.

“I did. I’m planning for the future.” I stretch up to him, giving him one more kiss. “And maybe ‘partner’ is a little too … square dance-y.”