Page 130 of The Re-Proposal

“We’re here,” Clarissa says, turning to me with an upturned face that’s just begging for a peck. Or a sloppy make-out session with my hand down her blouse. Somewhere in between?

When Idokiss her, how intense should it be? I never thought about it.

In my defense, my plan was kind of sparse.

Step one: kiss Clarissa.

Didn’t leave much room for detail or hand-mouth-tongue coordination.

“I had a great time,” Clarissa says.

She’s standing right under the lamppost. Silver shines on her thick hair and in her cinnamon silk eyes.

Damn, she’s stunning in that flowered dress. It’s pretty. Light. Simple.

Everything is simple with her.

Not just her appearance—although that’s a big part of it. Clarissa isn’t like other girls. She doesn’t fuss about her lipstick or powder her nose every three minutes. She eats food like someone’s going to take it from her. Whatever the opposite of high maintenance is, Clarissa isthat.

But it’s more than just what she is.

It’s simplebeingwith her.

Like that moment when you’re floating in the pool, the sun is on your face and—for a second—you’re not scared that someone’s going to splash you or pull you under.

It’s that three seconds of relief.

I can be myself and kind of…

Not coast.

What’s the word?

Breathe.

Yeah, I can breathe with her.

I have so many goals. My future is so crisp. Clear. It propels me. Makes me work harder and harder. Makes every second that I’mnotworking a waste.

But with her, the noise cancels out in my head.

Clarissa shifts her keys back and forth between her hands. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” I step forward.

Her eyes widen.

Is that a good sign? A bad one?

I lean in a little closer and she holds herself perfectly still.

Good sign.

Her eyes flutter closed.

Even better sign.

My heart starts pounding.

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