I Kissed Shara Wheeler(88)

“My parents took my phone when I got back,” Shara says. “I didn’t know about it.”

“Oh,” Chloe says. When she puts it like that, it does seem obvious.

“And even if I had heard,” Shara goes on, “I promised to leave you alone.”

“Oh,” Chloe repeats. “Right.”

Shara tilts her head back, realizing. “You never read that card, did you?”

“No, I did,” Chloe says. “Like, twenty minutes ago.”

Shara purses her lips. “So you’re here because—”

“Because I know what it means,” Chloe says. “Although, it does feel worth mentioning that you could have gotten the same thing across by kissing me like I told you to.”

“Sorry, what part of you sitting on my chest screaming at me was supposed to make me think that was actually a good idea?” Shara says.

“Okay, but—school last week,” Chloe says. “You could have—”

“I kissed you first,” she points out. “Twice.”

“But those times didn’t count,” Chloe says. “They weren’t real.”

“They were,” Shara finally admits. “I just … didn’t know it at the time.”

“So you were following me around last week, because you—”

“Because I was trying to work up the nerve to do it right, but you kept acting like it was still a game.” She sounds the way her handwriting looked in the wrinkled postscript: worn out. “So if you came here to reject me, do it already. It’ll give me something to ruminate on during Bible study.”

“That’s not what I came for,” Chloe tells her.

Shara blinks. “It’s not?”

“Technically, that was part of the plan at one point,” Chloe confesses in a rush, “when I thought you were still— But, no, I—I came here to tell you that—that—”

She didn’t have time to prepare what she was going to say. She feels like the spine of a book about to crack and spill out all the love story guts.

How does she say this?

“That my best mornings are the ones when I pull into school right after you, because I know you’ll have to watch me walk past your car.”

What.

“What?”

“Or, no, it’s—that time I had to peer edit your essay in AP Lang?” She can’t believe she’s going to admit all this, but she doesn’t know how else to explain it. “I still remember it. Like, entire sentences from it, because I was trying so hard to come up with notes that were smarter than what you wrote, so you’d go home and think about it. I’ve found out your locker number the first week of every year, so that I’d know exactly how many times a day I’d pass it.”

“Chloe—”

“Shut up, I’m not finished,” Chloe says, and Shara shuts her pretty mouth. “Sophomore year, when we were lab partners, I’d go to the bathroom every day before chem and fix my hair because I knew that was the closest I’d ever be to you, and I—I wanted to be as much of a distraction to you as you were to me. Do you get it? I wanted you to see me.”

Shara doesn’t say anything, only nods. Chloe has to swallow a smile. It’s a rush—the feeling of explaining something about herself that feels insane and being met with Yes, of course.

“So then, when I read your notes and I realized that you did—that you saw me, that you thought about me so much, that you noticed me—God, I thought I’d won. But it didn’t feel the way it was supposed to. And that pissed me off. And I couldn’t figure out why it wasn’t enough, and then I read your last card and I realized that I didn’t just want you to see me. I wanted someone who sees me, and I wanted it to be you, because I think I always knew you were the only one it could be.”

After a long pause, Shara says, “Can I talk now?”

“Yes.”

“So. To summarize. You’re not rejecting me.”

“Correct,” Chloe confirms. “In fact, if you kissed me right now, I would probably die.”

“Really this time?” Shara says.

“Really.”

“No more games?”

“I promise if you promise.”

“Okay,” Shara says.

She steps closer. Chloe can feel the warmth of her body now. She wonders if Shara can feel hers too.

“Okay, then. Wow.”

The fuzz of Shara’s robe brushes against Chloe’s skin.

“Wow,” Chloe agrees.

When Shara lifts her hand, Chloe sees it splayed open in the grass outside her bedroom window. She (slowly, tentatively) touches the side of Chloe’s face, and Chloe feels the cool press of a sailboat railing. She could close her eyes and hear the fluorescent hum of elevator lights. Shara searches her face with the wary, reverent interest of stumbling upon a poem in an English textbook that breaks your heart open in the middle of class. Chloe knows that feeling. She knows Shara knows it too.

She tips her head forward, and Shara kisses her. Chloe puts her arms around Shara’s neck and kisses her back.

They’re standing in Shara’s bedroom, but they’re two blocks over at the clubhouse. She’s in Benjy’s T-shirt, but she’s in black chiffon and lace with her hair set in waves. Shara’s in her bathrobe, but she’s in a tiara under a dance floor chandelier, and there’s the distant, dreamy echo of a slow electric guitar, and they’re swaying to the last song of the night. Shara sighs, and the balloons drop.