Oh. Dear. God.
Maya just kissed me. I mean, she’s kissing me. Present tense. My first kiss is happening right here, right now, in Target, of all places, which, okay, feels weirdly appropriate. Maya’s hands cup my cheeks, and her lips taste like vanilla ChapStick.
My brain exits the station completely. I can barely breathe, my head’s so foggy.
We move tentatively at first, but then we sort of find our rhythm. Her lips make space, and I fill it. I was so sure I’d be hopeless. I’ve never gotten anything right the first time. Not anything. Not ever. But somehow, this clicks. My lips just know how this works. At least with Maya, they know.
Pretty sure we were born for this. Pretty sure kissing didn’t exist until we tried it.
Maya draws back, just barely, resting her forehead against mine. She’s still cupping my cheeks. “I love you.” Her voice breaks. “I’m in love with you. I’m so sorry it took me—”
I lean forward, kissing her harder. Her breath hitches, and that alone sends my heart into overdrive. Her arms fall past my shoulders. She’s pressed up so close, her knees are almost tucked up into my lap. I would freeze history if I could. Right here. This exact moment. This is my favorite dot on the timeline.
“I love you.” It comes out breathless. “I missed you so much.”
“Me too. I can’t believe this is happening.”
“No kidding.” I exhale. “Wow.”
I glance up in time to see a store employee pointedly looking away from the patio section. “Um.” I clear my throat. “Should we . . . go somewhere?”
I swear, I’m barely coherent.
Maya smiles. “Probably.”
“I don’t want to stop kissing.”
“Dressing room?” she suggests.
“Wow. Yes.” I kiss her again. “Good idea.”
Of course, deciding to kiss in the dressing room is one thing. Making it there is another. Turns out, you can be so giddy that walking is a challenge. We can’t stop bumping into each other, like magnets. And we keep sneaking behind displays and into aisles when no one’s looking.
Someone walks by, just as I’m about to kiss Maya in the entertainment section. I shift gears. “Quick, pretend we’re looking at the DVDs.”
Maya nods solemnly. “Emoji Movie. On sale. Looks romantic.”
“Oh, you want to see heart eyes?” I say. “Wait till we get to the kissing room.” I blush. “Dressing room.”
Maya laughs, taking my hand. “I’m so happy.”
I can’t even look at her. “Me too. God. Maya. You have no idea how much—”
“Hey, guys.”
It’s Kevin. Out of nowhere. He’s scratching his head, looking nervously from Maya to me. There’s a Georgia voter sticker affixed to his red polo shirt.
Wow. Worst timing ever. There should be an award for this. Called the Kevin Go Away Award. Presented to the Kevin who appears out of thin air to block you from kissing Maya Rehman in dressing rooms.
Maya doesn’t let go of my hand.
“Hey,” she says.
He smiles tentatively. “I’m really glad I ran into you guys. I feel so bad about how I left things last week.”
“No, it’s fine,” Maya says. “I’m sorry I yelled—”
“Don’t be. I needed the wake-up call. Maya. Listen. I can’t begin to understand what all of this must feel like for you. I don’t know if I ever will. But I’m going to do a better job listening from now on. I promise.” He taps his peach sticker. “Don’t you want to know who I voted for?”
Maya’s eyes widen.
Kevin shrugs. “You won me over. I don’t love the guy, but he’s way better than Newton, and he deserved my vote.”
Maya looks dumbstruck. “Thank you.”
Kevin grins down at her, and then up at me. “Anyway, I don’t want to interrupt anything—”
“What?” I stutter. “Uh. Not at all.”
“I’m just gonna . . .” Kevin points vaguely in the direction of the produce section. “Cleanup on aisle seven. Tangelo explosion.”
The moment he’s gone, Maya stands on tiptoe to kiss me in the middle of the aisle. Then she grabs both my hands. “Come on!”
We practically bolt past the electronics.
Thank God the dressing room’s empty—not even an attendant. Maya tugs me into one of the family stalls, locking it.
“Hey, look at that,” she says. “We’re alone.”
My heart pounds. “We are.”
She sinks onto the bench, and I follow—kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. But then she hugs me, shifting backward, until I’m almost on top of her. I rest my hand behind her head before it hits the bench. Our legs tangle together, sneakered feet dangling off the edge.
This time, when we kiss, it’s more urgent. Her hands fall to the back of my neck, gently threading my hair. My fingers trail down her bare arms, and she smiles against my lips. “Now I have goose bumps.”
She’s so close I can feel the heat of her breath.
“Goose bumps in a good way?”
She laughs. “Yes, Jamie.”
“This is—is this okay?”
“It’s okay.” She kisses me. “Very okay.”
“I just want you to know, it’s fine if we can’t date. If this has to be a thing that happened once in Target.” Maya laughs softly, and I tuck a strand of hair behind her cheek. “Seriously. Whatever you need this to be—”
“I want to be your girlfriend.”
“Okay.” I kiss her. “And your parents? Do you think they’ll be okay with . . . us?”
“I don’t know.” Maya gazes up at me. “I’ll figure it out. Can we take it slow?”
“We can take it any way,” I say.
She pulls me closer, kissing me again. And again.
Her phone buzzes loudly, startling us apart.
“Okay.” She sits up, scooting next to me. “So, now I see the appeal of having no reception here.”
I laugh. “You should check that.”
She glances at the screen. “It’s my mom. Oh my God. If she could see me now.” I look at her, half expecting her to look panicked. But she’s beaming at me. “The polls just closed. She’s at Scavino’s doing interviews with Imam Jackson about the impact the election may have on the bill. Returns should be coming in pretty soon. I guess we should head over there.” She rests her head on my shoulder. “Except I’m not ready to stop kissing you.”
“I’ll drive you. We can kiss at red lights.”
“I have a better idea,” she says.
So now I know: the only thing better than driving Maya is watching Maya drive. She hasn’t stopped grinning since we left Target. And I can’t stop staring at her profile.
Her dimple flickers. “What?”
“Nothing. You’re just pretty.”
Maya makes a pshh sound, wrinkling her nose.
“And a good driver,” I add. “A responsible driver.”
The lot at Scavino’s is so full, we have to park in the grass—and it’s even more packed inside the restaurant. The owners have draped the entire bar area in blue, with cardboard cutouts of Rossum’s head mounted on crepe medallion centerpieces. It’s more than a little jarring, seeing as Rossum’s full body is here too. I mean, actual Jordan Rossum, in the flesh. He’s at the bar with Gabe and Hannah.
Gabe slow claps when Maya and I walk in. So now my cheeks are supernovas.
There’s no way Gabe could know about all the kissing. Maya and I aren’t even holding hands right now. I mean, yeah, it feels like there are tangible sparks shooting between us. And no, I haven’t been able to unglue my eyes from Maya’s face since we left Target.
But maybe it’s just an I-told-you-she’d-speak-to-you-again slow clap?
Probably better if Gabe doesn’t know how little speaking we did at Target.
Rossum grins at us and waves, but suddenly Imam Jackson appears. Maya introduces me, and I try to act normal—but it seems I’ve used up my last shred of chill. My voice comes out high, almost squeaky. “I loved your WPBA segment with Tammy Adrian!”
“Why, thank you.”
Grandma drifts toward us, shaking Imam Jackson’s hand and hugging Maya and me. “More returns in from DeKalb County,” she says, almost singing. “Maya, your neighborhood went sixty-five percent for Rossum.”
“Oh my God. Really?”
“Mmm-hmm.” Grandma smiles. “So far, so good! At this rate, Boomer will get his celebratory walk by ten.”
“Boomer?” asks Imam Jackson—and the next thing I know, he and Grandma are absorbed in looking at puppy pictures on Grandma’s phone. Maya watches them for a minute, and turns back to me smiling. But before she can even open her mouth to speak, Sophie sidles up.
“You guys look like you’re having a good day,” she says.
I tug her ponytail. “Shut up.”
“I’m just saying.” She beams. “Hey, have you seen Hannah?”
“Don’t look now,” Maya says as soon as Sophie wanders off toward the bar. “But our moms are huddled together.”
“Is that a good thing?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I can’t see my mom’s face.”
“I mean.” I lower my voice. “As long as she hasn’t been watching the security cameras at Target . . .”
Maya steps closer, pressing the backs of our hands together. “I really think she’ll come around.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Really?”
“She’ll have to. She will. I mean, it’s you—” Suddenly, her hand falls to her pocket. “Yet another text.” She pulls her phone out, looks at it, and looks up at me.
Her mouth hangs open.
My stomach drops. “Everything okay?”
“It’s Sara.” She peers up at me. “She says she’s here. She’s right outside.”