“Boys are stupid and girls are trouble.”Truer words were never spoken.”

“I rested my head on my arms and sighed dramatically. "What's up?" she asked"Why are boys so annoying?" she chuckled."You know what my mother used to say?" I shook my head still in position "Boys are stupid and girls are trouble" truer words were never spoken.”

“My chest cracked open at his words. I stared into Noah's perfect face and tried to see what he saw. I tried to see us - not individually, not the arrogant, beautiful, reckless lost boy and the angry, broken girl - but what we were, who we were, together. I tried to remember holding his hand at my kitchen table and feeling for the first time since I'd left Rhode Island that I wasn't alone in this. That I belonged.”

“What is real?" Asked the boy. "It is a thing that happens to you when a girl loves you for a long time. Not just to play with," Noah said. "But really loves you." "Does it hurt?" Asked the boy. "Sometimes. When you are real you don't mind being hurt.”

“I rushed ahead until another girls' bathroom appeared. I pushed the door open, planning to leave Noah outside while I collected myself.But he followed me in.Two younger girls were standing at te mirror applying lip gloss."Get out," Noah said to them, his voice laced with boredom. As if they were the ones who didn't belong in the girls' bathroom.”

“Have you kissed many boys before?" he asked quietly. His question brought my mind back into focus. I raised an eyebrow. "Boys? That's an assumption." Noah laughed, the sound low and husky. "Girls, then?""No.""Not many girls? Or not many boys?""Neither," I said. Let him make of that what he would."How many?" "Why—" "I am taking away that word. You are no longer allowed to use it. How many?" My cheeks flushed, but my voice was steady as I answered. "One." At this, Noah leaned in impossibly closer, the slender muscles in his forearm flexing as he bent his elbow to bring himself nearer to me, almost touching. I was heady with the proximity of him and grew legitimately concerned that my heart might explode. Maybe Noah wasn't asking. Maybe I didn't mind. I closed my eyes and felt Noah's five o' clock graze my jaw, and the faintest whisper of his lips at my ear."He was doing it wrong.”

“I did something brave, then. Or stupid. Sometimes it's hard to tell the difference.”