My heart was somewhere in my throat, pressing down so hard that it made me hurt. “That’s kind of the saddest thing I’ve ever heard,” I murmured.
“If by ‘sad,’ you mean ‘pathetic,’ then yeah, it is.” He smiled, only it wasn’t much of a smile. “Anyway. That was my lame attempt at teenage rebellion. Woo. All I got was grounded and a paragraph on Page Six.”
“That’s very Gossip Girl,” I told him, trying to make him smile again. It sort of worked. He had a crooked smile that was starting to look less crooked by the minute. “And I’m sorry about your mom. And the bookstore.”
“Yeah, well.” He shrugged. “What are you going to do?”
“I know what you mean, though,” I told him. “About people leaving.”
Jesse looked up. “Did your mom bail, too?”
“No, no, not at all.” The idea of my mom suddenly waking up and leaving one day was impossible to comprehend. “I just meant that I know what it’s like to leave. Or to be left.”
“Yeah?”
I nodded and stirred the melted ice cream. “We move a lot for my dad’s job.”
“What does he do?”
“He works for universities. He speaks a lot of languages, but jobs are sometimes sort of tricky to get, so we move a lot.” I had told this lie so many times that once in a while I even found myself believing it. “But, you know, that means leaving friends, family, homes, and it’s never the same again.”
Jesse nodded as he took the ice cream back from me. “This is really gross now,” he said, smiling a little. “It’s sugar soup.”
“Yeah, nice try,” I said. “Changing the subject.”
He shrugged. “Guilty.”
We sat together for a few minutes without saying anything. It was nice. Sometimes New York is a lot quieter than you think it can be.
“I haven’t told anyone about my mom,” Jesse finally said, his eyes focused somewhere toward the Chrysler Building. “So, you know, please don’t …”
“I won’t tell anyone,” I promised. “Here, pinky swear.”
He turned his head to look at me. “Pinky swear?” he said. “What are you, six years old?”
“It’s a time-honored oath!” I countered. “Pinkies out, c’mon.”
He rolled his eyes but did so anyway. His skin was a little cool. Does this count as holding hands with a boy? I suddenly thought. Oh my God, I’m holding hands with a boy. A cute boy. It’s not like he’s someone’s cousin who’s supposed to be a pity date.
“Are we sworn now?” he said, his eyes crinkled at the corners.
“Yes,” I said, and tugged on his finger for good measure. “It’s also possible that we’re now considered married in the country of New Guinea.”
We both cracked up at the same time. “Kidding!” I giggled. “Kidding! At least I think I am. Who knows?”
“Let’s Wikipedia that when we get home,” Jesse suggested, but he was still laughing. “Are you always this goofy?”
“I—I don’t know,” I answered. I didn’t know. I had never hung out with other teenagers before. I hadn’t even had a friend my own age since the third grade. “I guess I can be kinda goofy. Maybe it’s one of my hidden talents.”
“One of? What other hidden talents do you have?”
“Well, I can’t tell you or they wouldn’t be”—I lowered my voice dramatically—“hidden. But I have a few skills.”
And suddenly I realized that Jesse and I were really close together. More specifically, our mouths were really close together.
“Oh,” I said. “Um, hi.”
“Hi,” he whispered back. “This okay?”
“Well, we’re already married in New Guinea,” I whispered back. “This is just the natural progression of—”
And then he kissed me.
Not that I had any experience with this sort of thing, but Jesse was a really good kisser, and I suddenly wondered if I was holding up my end of the deal, so to speak. I tried desperately to think of all the movies I had seen where people make out, but my brain was in meltdown mode and so I just went with it.
Best. Assignment. Ever.
“You’re shaking,” he said when we pulled apart after a minute or an hour or a year. I’m not sure how long we were together. However long it was, it wasn’t enough.
“Oh, yeah, um, sorry.” I put my hand on his arm to steady myself. “Ice cream. Sugar rush. You know.” Also the fact that you just kissed me.
“I’m sorry I was an asshole to you when we met,” he murmured, pushing my hair out of my face.
“It’s okay. I was an asshole, too. Sometimes I’m bossy.”
“Really? I had no idea!”
“Shut up!” I cried, swatting at his arm. “I can’t help it, it’s my nature.”
“Luckily you’re a good kisser.”
My head swam and if I weren’t already sitting down, I would have had to sit down. “I am?” I asked. “I mean, I am! Duh.”
“Waaaaaait,” Jesse suddenly said, leaning back a little and staring at me. “Am I your first kiss?”
Whoops.
“Define first,” I said.
“I think it defines itself.”