Free The A-Word by Joy Preble Page B

thing, but that feeling … I was just five but I knew I wanted to grow up and have things that I just didn’t let go of, you know? Important things. I guess it reminds me of that.”
    I was fumbling for something to say when Ryan leaned in, closing the space between us. “Jenna,” he said. “Can I kiss you?”
    My heart thrashed like a fish on a line. I nodded. “Yeah. I mean yes.”
    A million thoughts had been dancing in my brain:
Did he like me? Was my breath fresh? Was that really Axe he’d spritzed on himself?
    Now there was only one. He was going to kiss me. He had
asked
to kiss me.
    He dipped his head and our foreheads bumped. My pulse was doing NASCAR laps. Ryan reached out and rested his hands on my shoulders.
Had he done this before? How many girls had he kissed?
I knew he’d made out with that Mia Rossat Cammie Northrup’s party in 8th grade, but it’s not like I’d paid attention back then.
    His face hovered over me. I had never thought there was any amount of Axe cologne that was good, but now I did. It was the perfect amount. My nostrils filled with boy. With Ryan Sloboda who was about to kiss me, his hands warm and firm on my shoulders. Then his lips touched mine. The lightest of kisses at first, like he wasn’t quite sure it was okay even though he knew it was because he HAD ASKED and I had said YES. Then his hands moved, trailing down my back, setting electrical fires on my skin, pulling me closer.
    Holy hell.
    His lips were soft and solid at the same time, which was a wonderful thing. He tasted like cupcake frosting, or maybe he always tasted sweet—only I hadn’t known until now. He opened his lips a little and I did the same. It was like warm butterflies everywhere. I moved my hands up to cup the back of his neck, felt the stubble of his haircut with my fingertips while his hands rested, warmed and pressure-y, at the small of my back.
    I’d never been kissed at all. I used to feel backward about that, like I wasn’t keeping up with the pack. But now my brain announced:
you were just waiting for the boy who would kiss you the right way
. I thought I would die of nerves and pleasure right there on our driveway in the orange light from the Gilroys’ fake Halloween graveyard.
    I opened my eyes, and he backed away enough that I could pay attention. He swallowed. I watched, dizzy. Did he know it was my first real kiss? Could he tell? My general impression was that once I kissed him back, I could have had a third eyeball in the middle of my head and he might not have noticed.
    “Will you go out with me?” he asked. His voice was firmabout it, which I liked. “And I’ll take you to Homecoming, too, okay—?”
    “Jesus Christ!”
    That one wasn’t me. It wasn’t Ryan, either.
    “What do you think you’re doing, Jenna?” My brother advanced across our lawn at a fast clip, eyes on me, like Ryan wasn’t even standing there. “We’re going to dinner soon,” he said. He looked me up and down. My lips were still in full tingle from the kissing, and my signature shirt had come untucked from my signature jeans. I contemplated all the ways I could kill him. Unfortunately, he was already dead.
    Ryan just smiled. “I’ll call you later,” he said. “Keep your phone on. Okay? Happy birthday.” And waited until I mumbled some agreeing sound before he swaggered off, all Tony Stark quippy-like, tossing a “See you later, Samuels” to my brother as he went.
    I swear I heard him whistle.
    “Jesus Christ,” my brother said again. It seemed to be his go-to response.
    I wondered vaguely if he was getting angel demerits. Then I figured Management had enough on its hands with Bo Shivers and all his damn balcony leaping. Bo Shivers probably kissed a bunch of girls in his day and didn’t care if he left them wondering.

A fter that, we drove to Sake City and ate California rolls and Mexico rolls (which had jalapeño) and something called a torpedo roll, which had pretty much everything including