The Names They Gave Us(64)

“So, you’re really okay?” Mohan asks. And with an almost impressive lack of subtlety, he glances at Henry to see his reaction.

“I really am.”

When we get to Keely, she looks coy.

“Low: bickering with my sister. High.” She pauses to sip her drink. There is a practiced casualness to her posture, like she knows she holds an ace. “My date.”

That’s all it takes. Mohan screeches, “EXCUSE ME, BITCH?!” and Anna huffs, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell us!” while I make eye contact with Henry, both of us trying not to laugh.

As it turns out, Keely’s day-off date was with the Kennedy cousin from that night at Tom’s. He really did take her boating, and I can no longer restrain my laugh. He let her steer and asked a lot of questions about her life. And listened. All in all, the verdict is Not Nearly as Douchey as He Looks.

“So, yeah,” she says, in conclusion. “Then he drove me back to camp.”

“And?” Mohan prods.

“And what?”

Anna opens her mouth to portray a sloppy, tongue-heavy make-out session.

“It was good,” Keely says, glancing at her nails.

“Good?” Anna demands. “A first kiss better be more than good. It should knock your legs out from under you. Right?”

We all nod, if only to pry the details out of Keely. She sighs, resigning herself to being outnumbered. “On the boat, we were laughing. And when I leaned in, he was leaning in too. Like we’d done it a thousand times before. So. More than good.”

None of us speak for a few moments. But you can almost hear our shared longing, like an ache between ribs. If??only. I hope. This is a way I’d like to be kissed, immediately familiar but still exciting.

“So, Lucy,” Mohan says. “What was your first kiss with the ex-BF like?”

“Oh, come on. I’m not going to talk about that.” I’m sure they think I’m a prude, but really, I just don’t want to talk about kissing another guy in front of Henry. Not when I think about kissing him every time I near his orbit. He’s sitting on the log, and I’m on the blanket in front of him. I’m glad he can’t see my face.

“I bet it was on her front porch after a formal first date,” Mohan announces, as if I am not present. “Like, literally dinner and a movie.”

It was actually dinner and putt-putt, thank you very much. And he kissed me in the car at a red light. Like he couldn’t wait, like he might lose his nerve. Or maybe he was nervous that my dad would open the front door and find us on the porch, who knows?

Keely smiles over her drink. “And I bet it was the third date at least.”

Later. We went out for a while, held hands plenty before we kissed. So what? But I make my face blank, shrugging with a kind of smugness. I’ll never tell.

“Well, if that’s true, it’s very 1950s and romantic,” Anna, my real friend, says.

“People liked tongue in the fifties too,” Keely notes, and the other traitors snicker into their hands.

“Guess all you want,” I say, sipping my drink. “But you perverts wouldn’t know romance if it handed you a dozen roses.”

Mohan cackles with glee, while Keely brushes her hair back, dignified. “I prefer wildflowers, personally. Or handcuffs.”

“She only says these things to shock you,” Henry says, taking pity on me. But Keely waggles her eyebrows at me, and I really do wonder. “She was singing a different tune when Mr. Yadriel Soto was wooing her last year. She loved it.”

“How dare you bring that up!” Keely swats at his knee, and I lean away to avoid the fray. “Ugh, he was so hot. Do you remember how hot he was?”

“Mmmm,” Anna says, and Mohan raises one hand like he is praising Jesus for this guy’s hotness.

“Sometimes I get online just to look at pictures of him in his army uniform.” Keely sighs dreamily. “He’s stationed in North Carolina now.”

The conversation shifts to former flames, and I stretch, unfolding my crossed legs.

“You can lean back if you want,” Henry says.

“Oh. Thanks.” I might think this was weird, except that these four are always in contact with one another—Anna tucked into the crook of Mohan’s shoulder, Jones carrying Keely on his back.

When I relax against his legs, my blood speeds up, rushing to inform the rest of my body: We’re touching! We’re touching!

I did not use to be such an embarrassing person.

If you’re in a quiet enough room, you realize some lightbulbs make little sounds every once in a while. A zap of energy, an electric hum. When Henry leans forward to whisper something about Mohan’s ex-girlfriend, I swear something in my heart buzzes like a filament.

It’s the eye contact across crowded rooms, like I’m always the first person he looks for. Our evening routine in the rec room with easy conversation. I collect these moments like gold coins, adding them up in my mind. In the span of ten seconds, I can think both: This is happening! and Am I making it up?

It’s exhausting.

It’s exhilarating.

And suddenly, I need to flee. I’m nearly squirming from the way my heart flutters, and I just need to not drink any Christmas alcohol or talk about kissing.

“I’m actually gonna head back,” I announce.