If I'm Being Honest(63)

I want to text Brendan about the fight with my friends. I need a person to confide in, to reassure me and help me remember who I am without them. To keep me from drifting too far. But it’s not fair to talk to Brendan without giving him an explanation for the kiss. Even if I don’t know if I’m ready to open myself up for rejection, I can’t pretend the kiss didn’t happen. Besides, I’m more than a little curious how he’s feeling about it.

I unlock my phone and stare at his name. Finally, I write a text.

    About this afternoon . . . I’m sorry I basically attacked you in the robotics room.



Right away my phone vibrates. He’s calling me.

Panic races into me. Who actually calls people? In my experience, it’s only people who want to yell at me.

I pick up.

“Undoubtedly your most unnecessary apology ever,” Brendan says before I get a word out.

I grin, relieved. “Yeah?” I ask.

“Yes,” he says. “I’m sorry if I was weird or whatever . . .” he continues.

“Now who’s apologizing unnecessarily?”

“Really?”

“Yes. Really.” I hope he hears the conviction in my voice. “You know,” I say, climbing onto my bed and crossing my legs on the comforter, “you’re not a bad kisser, for someone who spends every waking moment playing and working on computer games.” Feeling a flush in my cheeks, I pluck at a feather protruding from my pillow. “You’re a good kisser. A really good kisser.”

“Cameron,” he says, gently teasing, “you can give me your honest opinion.”

“I always do. You know that,” I reply.

“I guess you do,” he says, his voice edging from playfulness to something softer, something intimate. “Excuse me while I go into cardiac arrest,” he adds, and I laugh.

“You’re not going to tell me I’m a good kisser, then?” I nudge. “I’m hurt, Brendan. No, scandalized.”

“Don’t you already know?” he returns quickly.

“I don’t, actually. It didn’t exactly go well the last time I kissed someone.” I pause, reconsidering. “Wait, the last person I kissed was Paige. That went pretty well.”

“How well?” Brendan asks. “Wait, never mind. Never tell me. Definitely never tell me who was better, me or my sister.”

“You’re dodging the question,” I remind him. “You haven’t given me a real answer on whether I’m a good kisser.” I’m flirting more shamelessly than I’m used to, trying not to betray my nerves.

There’s a long pause. Whatever he’s about to say, he’s giving it real thought. I wait, unmoving, and feel everything in me narrow in on the quiet on the other end of the phone. “Even though I have no experience whatsoever and I’m entirely unequipped to judge comparatively,” he finally says, “I am one hundred percent certain that you, and that kiss, are unparalleled.”

Warmth spreads from my chest to the grin I feel forming on my face, rushing to the ends of my fingertips. I’m not afraid for Brendan to know how I feel. I need him to know. “You don’t have to reevaluate? Reassess? Confirm your first impression?” I ask playfully. Now? On this very bed?

“No confirmation necessary,” he says unhesitatingly.

My smile slips. It’s kind of a compliment, I guess. I thought I was pretty obvious about what I was suggesting. I would’ve expected him to jump at the chance. Brendan has zero experience, I remind myself, and it’s an established fact guys can be clueless when it comes to hints and come-ons.

I’m about to encourage him in terms a little more explicit when he speaks up. “I know I said I wasn’t interested in you helping me with my social life at school, but I’m glad you didn’t listen,” he says. “I honestly didn’t think it would work, or that I’d care even if it did.”

I blink, not following.

“But it did work, and . . . it’s really made things better. People have started treating me differently since we kissed,” he goes on.

“Um,” I say fumblingly. “How?” I don’t understand why we’re talking about this instead of flirting.

“Well, no one’s called me BB since, and I can just tell they see me differently. People make eye contact with me in the halls, you know? They say hi to me. I’m not a loser. I’m someone Cameron Bright kissed.”

The horrible realization drops onto me, and the air rushes from my lungs. He thinks I kissed him because I’m still trying to turn him popular. But it wasn’t that. Not at all. I did it because of what I feel for him. But it wasn’t real for Brendan. If he can’t even consider that it might’ve been real, I have to think he feels nothing for me. I’m not even a possibility.

I’m just the girl trying to make up for the shitty things she did.

“I don’t know how you predicted kissing me would reverse six years of being a nobody,” Brendan says. “It did, though. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I say, my voice hollow.

“Hey, I’ve got to go study. My dad’s walked by my room three times with increasingly pointed glares at my SAT book,” he says with a laugh, obliviously chipper. “We’re still on for Grand Central Market Friday, right?”