The Names They Gave Us(65)

Mohan swivels to me. “Say what?”

“I’m wiped from this week.”

“We understand, Boo.” Anna pats my leg, eyes already dreamy from the red-hots whiskey. T minus ten minutes till they’re talking about life in other galaxies.

Henry gets up behind me. “I’ll walk you back.”

“Oh. You don’t have to.” But I want you to. I think I might as well have said it, googly-eyed as my stupid face has got to be.

“Yes, he does,” Keely says. “Otherwise we’ll worry. And take a lantern.”

Henry points up at the full moon, high in the cloudless sky. “We’re good, I think. And I can use the light on my cell.”

Well, I guess this is happening. “Okay. Thanks. Night, guys.”

“Sleep tight!” Anna calls. And then the three of them exchange totally conspicuous glances. Am I making it up?

As we begin down the path, I hear Keely start in about how wild things really do happen during full moons. It’s documented.

“There they go,” I tell Henry. “Nerds.”

I don’t have to look over to know he’s grinning. “No doubt. But I like ’em.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

We’re halfway there when Henry pulls out his cell phone.

“The light is much dimmer than I thought,” he says, laughing. “Maybe we should have taken a lantern. I just didn’t want them bumbling around back there. At one point last year, Anna—”

Before he can finish the sentence, I step into some sort of divot. It only barely disrupts my gait, but Henry is ready to catch me, hand light on my back.

“Whoa. Okay. Do I need to carry you?”

“Nah.” I steady myself. “Imagine how jealous Neveah would be.”

“Ha.” His hand drops away, and he goes right back to his rambling walk and his story. Am I making this up?

Once we’re out of the woods, he keeps walking with me. Now that there are no trees overhead, I can see him clearly in the dove-gray moonlight.

“So, hey. I wanted to apologize on behalf of our idiot friends. They shouldn’t have grilled you like that about . . . your ex.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” I say. His expression is skeptical, perhaps even worried. “Really! It didn’t bother me.”

“Okay. Good. I just thought they might have offended you. Like, maybe you were doing that thing where you don’t kiss anyone till you get married. I mean it’s cool if—”

“What? No!” I laugh a little under my breath, to let him know that’s a silly thought. I know a few people who are doing that, but it’s not for me. “Why? Because my dad’s a pastor?”

He shrugs, with a guilty little grimace. That’s a yes.

I shake my head. “I was, in fact, kissing a real live boyfriend until last month.”

“Well, I didn’t think you made up a boyfriend. I mean, Luke and Lucy. It’s terrible.”

“Lukas. He doesn’t like being called Luke.”

“That’s worse somehow,” he says, laughing again. “You’d invent a better name than that if he was fake.”

“Or a worse one. Like, so bad that there’s no way I’d make up something so bad. My boyfriend, Percival.”

“Hey! Percival is my grandpa’s name.”

I whirl to him, free hand over my mouth. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! It was just—”

“Luce, I’m teasing you.” He’s grinning as I shove his shoulder, laughing. In an effort to keep me from pushing him away, he grabs my hand. “I’m sorry. Couldn’t help it. It’s cute how literal you are.”

It’s cute. Cute. Me. Okay.

His fingers, still laced through mine.

“So!” he says cheerfully. “Would it be okay for me to kiss you, then?”

I stop dead. Blink. My heartbeat is a throb, almost painful. “Now?”

That smile, smug and amused. Oh, save me. Literal Jesus in heaven, help me because I cannot withstand it, and I don’t even want to.

“Not necessarily,” he says. “I know you just broke up with someone. But, you know, sometime.”

“Yes,” I blurt out. “Sure. Great.”

Sure? I said SURE, GREAT?? God, I know You hear me! Bail a girl out!

“Okay, good.” His eyes sweep over mine.

He turns to go, even though our hands stay linked.

“Wait, I . . .” My mouth hangs open as I fail to finish that sentence—any sentence. He steps back to me anyway. He’s grinning until the split second before he presses his lips to mine.

What was your first kiss with Jones like? they’ll ask someday. Oh, come on, I’ll reply. I’m not going to talk about that.

Because how could I ever really explain his sure hands on my neck, tilting my face up to his? How a black ceiling of stars arched over us, pine branches bowing to cocoon us against the earth. How I clung to him because the ground flew out beneath us—or maybe we rocketed upward. How my heart beat so fast that I almost felt like laughing. Because it’s giddy to stumble into magic, to realize what this can feel like. Each kiss a phrase exchanged between us: There you are. There you are. I wasn’t even looking for him, so why do I feel found?