Page 25 of Happiness for Beginners

Here was the problem. I did want to kiss him. It was a 100 percent terrible idea, and I knew that for a fact, but somehow I just couldn’t make myself care. I couldn’t make myself care when I went to take my own shower. Or as I dried my hair. Or as I brushed my teeth and put on my sleep shirt. By the time I stepped out of the bathroom and paused at the doorway to size him up, I knew it was hopeless. And so, in the way that you watch your hand reach for a cookie your brain knows you shouldn’t eat, I watched myself walk over to Jake and linger by his side.

He didn’t look up.

“You’re starting the same book over from the beginning,” I said.

He kept his eyes on the page. “Yep.”

I watched him read for a minute. Or pretend to read.

“Come here,” I said, at last, letting out my own sigh of defeat.

Jake looked up, but didn’t move—as if daring me to mean it.

“You better get over here before I change my mind.”

At that, he snapped to attention. He dropped his book so fast it tumbled to the floor.

“We’ll treat it like school,” I said, shaking my head at what I was about to do. “I’ll give a lecture, and you can take mental notes.”

He gave me that grin of his. “I love mental notes. I’m a huge fan of mental notes.”

“This is for educational purposes only.”

“Also a big fan of education. I’m a straight-A student.”

We stood facing each other, and, at that moment, I could not remember ever standing that close to him. I had that light-headed feeling you get after you’ve made a decision that will change your life. Was I seriously about to give a kissing lesson? What would I even say? I grabbed for something that sounded wise. “The thing about kissing is that it’s a balance between holding on and letting go.”

“That’s a heck of a philosophical beginning,” Jake said.

“Like with everything in life,” I went on, “there’s a push and pull to it. I remember kissing this boy in seventh grade who crammed his tongue in my mouth and pushed it around like a dead fish. That,” I said, “was not a good kiss.”

Jake nodded.

“You don’t kiss like that, do you?” I asked.

He shook his head.

“Good,” I said. “When you kiss someone, it’s all about give and take. Getting close. Pulling away. It’s not just working figure eights with your tongue. Because the push and pull mirrors the emotions.”

“You’ve really thought about this,” he said.

“I’veneverthought about this,” I said. “But I’m turning out to be a savant.”

He was studying me in that way of his again.

Next. “And don’t just stay in one place,” I added. “Explore.”

His gaze drifted to my mouth. “Like from her mouth to her neck?”

“Everywhere. Her neck. Her throat. Her collarbones.” I paused. “And use your teeth.”

“You want me to bite her?”

“Use the teeth for contrast, I mean. Lips are soft, teeth are hard.”

I could see his wheels turning as he thought about it.

Moving on. “Okay: hands. Where do they go?”

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