Date Me, Bryson Keller(49)

Bryson pulls back and his eyes open. He looks at me, then smiles. It’s not tight-lipped and nervous. It’s big and genuine. It’s the smile you want to get after kissing someone.

    “I just broke all my rules.” He sighs.

“Sorry.” My voice is breathless and not even a little apologetic. My heart hammers in my chest. I’m barely keeping myself standing upright.

“Don’t. Don’t apologize,” Bryson says. “Not for that kiss, never for that kiss.”

“Really?” I feel my face reddening. “This was my first kiss…like, ever.”

“Well, this feels like my first real kiss, too,” Bryson says. “I feel like everything finally makes sense now. You. Me. Us.”

We stare at each other, and I can tell that neither of us is really looking at the other’s eyes. We’re looking at each other’s lips.

“Should we?” Bryson asks.

“Yes,” I say again, this time on a groan.

Bryson leans his head down. It’s slower this time. His lips touch mine once more, and I feel like they belong there. There is no hesitation. Bryson Keller is sure. I feel braver, too. I reach for him. My fingers run through his hair. Bryson pulls me closer, and I moan into his mouth. This is what I’ve been waiting for my whole damn life.

On this Friday night, we are just two boys kissing because we want to, because we like each other.

And there is nothing at all wrong with that.

Because love is love is love.





21


I don’t sleep at all. I have too much going on in my head, too much going on in my heart. I’m thinking too much, feeling too much.

I roll over and bury my head in the pillow. I’m smiling, and I’m pretty sure I have been the whole night. I reach for my phone on the nightstand. I have messages in the group chat, and when I open it, I find a link to a YouTube video that Donny thought was funny. I scroll through my other notifications but find none from Kelly yet. Maybe Bryson’s sleeping.

We got home pretty late last night. Neither one of us had wanted the night to end. Even after he drove me to my house, we spent almost an hour just sitting there and talking. Holding hands with our hearts full, a cloud of giddiness swirling all around us. I decided then that the night was a date, because it was everything I’ve fantasized about—and so much more.

I’m not saying that I’m in love with Bryson. But the idea doesn’t seem all that impossible. It hasn’t even been a full week, but there’s no denying that I like him more and more with each day that passes. And what completely blows my mind is that he likes me, too.

    His kissing me is the undeniable proof that my skeptical mind needs.

With his lips, he cleared my doubts and stilled my anxiety about us.

Last night he did it again and again and again.

There’s a knock at my bedroom door. I roll over just as Yazz pops her head in. She’s wearing the wrap that she swirls her hair in to sleep. Dad’s sisters gave Yazz the hair 101 on her last visit. Both of us have super-curly hair. I’m lucky that I keep mine short, but Yazz’s hangs down her back.

“Mom sent me to check if you were alive,” Yazz explains.

I’m not. I’ve moved on from the land of the living. Last night was enough to kill me—the murder weapon: Bryson Keller’s skilled mouth. I smile to myself. I’m sure to Yazz I look like a fool, but I don’t care. I’m too happy to care. Nothing can go wrong today, not when I feel this good.

“What’s with you?” Yazz asks.

“Nothing,” I lie.

For once my secret doesn’t feel like a burden.

“Are you going to see Bryson today?” Yazz asks.

“No, why?” There’s something strange about her question, or rather the way she’s asked it. Maybe if I weren’t love-drunk over Bryson and me making out last night I would press her on it. In the end I don’t. Sometimes willful ignorance is best.

“Just curious.” She closes my door then, leaving me alone with the memory of last night. I am riding a cloud of euphoria. No wonder pop stars are constantly saying love is a drug. It may be cliché, but it also happens to be true.

    I climb from my bed and walk to the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later I emerge dressed and ready to take on the day. I run down the stairs and enter the kitchen.

Mom and Dad are seated at the island, both with their laptops out. It seems that today is a Saturday for working at home.

“Good afternoon, sleepyhead,” Dad says. He’s being dramatic—there’s over an hour to go before it’s actually the afternoon.

“Did you have fun last night?” Mom asks.

My heart skips a beat. Just briefly I think she’s asking about Bryson and me, but then I remember the concert. Something I was looking so forward to was completely eclipsed by my kissing Bryson Keller.

I turn to hide my blush and busy myself with pouring a glass of orange juice. “Yeah, the concert was great.” But what happened after was even better. I tell them none of this, though.

“You should invite Bryson over sometime,” Mom says. “We barely got to know him yesterday.”

“You mean you couldn’t interrogate him like you wanted.”

Dad laughs. “I’d love to have someone to talk soccer with. Do you know which team he supports?”