Page 35 of Until We Kiss

Carter glances towards the dark room. “Dunno. I’ll go find out.”

And then he’s gone, bounding off after Dorian.

I rub at my neck, swallow my fear, then follow. I’m two steps away from the door when Carter crashes back in.

I blink at him. “What happened?”

He nods once. “He’s good.”

“He’s good?”

“Yep.”

“You were gone for two seconds.”

He shrugs. “Which was long enough for him to say he’s good.”

“Uh…” I mean, he’s nottechnicallywrong. “What did you say?”

“I asked him if we’re cool. And he said, ‘Yeah, good.’ Then I came back.”

“I…‍” I lick my lips.

My face is hot, the room sweltering even with the morning breeze. For so long, I’ve been petrified of this happening.

“Hey.” Carter’s big voice is close to my ear. “It’s gonna be okay.” He wraps his arms around me. He’s so warm, but it's different from the warmth of the sun. It’s Carter’s warmth, hismuscles firm against mine, his biceps flexing as he hugs me hard. “Give me a fact.”

I close my eyes, and I let myself sink into his hug. “An octopus has three hearts.”

And I wonder if, when it’s with another octopus that it really cares about, all three of those hearts beat in unison.

“I think,” he whispers. “I’m okay with just having one big one.” He kisses my temple, and I'm pretty sure these little kisses he keeps giving me are going to live in my mind forever. “And I promise, it’s gonna be okay.”

8

On the rockypath to the bungee platform, Carter asks me all sorts of questions. Did I like my muffin? Were the carrots ground or shredded? Do I like cooked carrots? Maybe we can rent some bodyboards later today? Do I like beets? Is my knee okay on this path? Have I been bungee jumping before? Would it be cool if he ate my ass again later?

I swing my head over, blinking at him on the last question, and he laughs, dimple popping, bouncing onto his toes as we come to some stairs, that pain in my knee intensifying with each step.

“Uh, yeah,” I say. “Sounds cool. About the ass, I mean.”

“Nice.” He points over to our right. “Look at that view, bro!”

Bro.

Bro.

Bro.

How many times has he called me bro since this morning?

Every time he says it, my soul shrivels a little more. Am I being obtuse about this? I mean, he’s called me that for years now. I assume since we first met.

Actually, he used to call me “dude” or “man” a lot when we first met. I don’t know when “bro” started. But I’ve been calledthat thousands of times over the years, not just by Carter. The weight room is always a brofest.

We come to a stop on a platform high above the canyon. Rory leans against the railing, looking over into the depth, a wide slow river glittering blue below. Dorian reaches a hand out toward him nervously.

I’ve hardly said a word to Dorian. But I need to. I’m working up to it, I swear. It’s just hard to get some time alone. He and Rory are pretty much always together. And I guess, Carter and I are always together too. I could talk to him with Carter there, and of course that's cool, but it feels like this conversation is aboutourfriendship—Dorian and mine—and I want to dial into that.

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