Page 82 of Reggie and Delilah's Year of Falling

“I’ll make this next part easy for you,” she whispers. “You’re my boyfriend now, Reggie Hubbard.”

“Oh, am I?” I kiss both her cheeks, and then pull back to look at her and remind myself this is real.

“You are,” she says. And even though her words are sure, something else flickers in her eyes. They ask a question.

“Well, I’m honored to call you my girlfriend, Delilah Cole,” I say, hopefully erasing any doubt. I reach behind me and pull open Bessie’s passenger door, holding her hand as she gets in. And then I practically sprint over to my side, all goofy, ’cause now that we’ve finally figured this out, I don’t want to be away from her for even that long.

“Where to, sweetheart?” I ask. I want to suck the corny-ass word right back into my mouth as soon as I say it, because I’m notabout to keep Delilah sounding like a grandpa. Or a virgin. Or a grandpa virgin. But thankfully her whole face lights up. She leans across the center console to brush a finger across my cheek.

“You get it, ’cause, like the song,” I say, kissing her hand. “The one yesterday. In the car.”

“I get it,” she says, giggling. Her laugh, her vibe—everything about her is lighter. I don’t know if it’s what happened in there with the band, or if it’s this, with us, but I’m grateful I get to witness it.

“I guess I probably need to go home.” She sighs, twisting her lips to the side. “But first... can we just drive a little longer?”

“Of course.” I say, one hand on the steering wheel, the other holding hers. “You pick the music.”

Who Knows?

Delilah

“I was under the impression that this would be a fun, whimsical date! Not exercise!” Reggie shouts, as he pushes his legs forward double-time.

“It’s fun! I’m having fun!”

I’m not having fun. Riding the swan pedal boats in the little man-made pond downtown sounded fun in theory, like one of those cute dates that couples do in movies. But it’s at least ninety degrees out, because Southern California never gets the fall memo, and I can feel sweat pooling at the back of my neck and rolling down my spine. The only other people out on the boats are two pairs of tweens in dueling swans, cackling and hollering as they race back and forth on the water. We should have gone on the Ferris wheel instead.

“But seriously, are you trying to tell me something about my shrimpy legs?”

“Do shrimps have legs... or just claws?”

“Ah, sheconvenientlydodges the question!” He clutches his hands to his chest in mock offense. So I raise my eyebrows and shrug, likeYou said it,but then I smile and reach over to squeeze his left leg, showing him that I like them just fine.

He smiles back at me, that nose-wrinkling one that makes my whole body feel like a switch was flipped on. Then he leans in and kisses me deeply, his hands finding my hips.

Okay, so I guess the swan boats are a little bit fun.

And honestly, I would do anything with Reggie. Get my teeth cleaned, fold laundry, wait in the long Whole Foods line for my mom’s specific brand of Greek yogurt. When I see him leaning against his car outside of my school—he drives across the city to be there every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday because of his senior early-out schedule—my heart beats at a faster tempo, and the butterflies in my chest start flapping their fluttery riffs, and there’s the low, persistent pulse of my whole body on high alert. It’s music. He makes everything, even the mundane, feel glossy and new, just a little more exciting.

I’ve already started trying to capture this feeling in a song. Something that might fit in Taylor Swift’sLoverera... if she played electric guitar.

“Gross!”

“Get a room!”

The racing tweens are now only feet away, ogling us from their boats. One of them is holding up a brand-new iPhone, either filming us or himself, I can’t tell.

“You think we can take ’em?” Reggie asks, a sly grin on his lips.

“Hell yeah.”

“Hold on tight,” he whispers to me, sneaking one last kiss.

“Last one to the dock is an ugly ogre!” he yells, pumping his not-at-all shrimpy legs as we leave the scrambling kids in our wake.

Reggie

“Sometimes I think you’re too good to be true.”

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