Page 99 of Wayfarers

from any boys in my orbit until Cal

took me out for ice cream for the third time

that July and straight-up asked

if he could do it. Kiss me. I’d sort of known

it was coming, already weighed out the pros

and cons. Pro: his friend David

was dating my friend Alice May and

now I could stop third-wheeling

their movie nights. Pro: he was cute,

pro: he liked me enough to say

something. Con: he’d probably end up meeting

my mom; con: did I only allow myself to want things

when they were presented to me

on a sensible silver platter? I said

yes. He kissed me. And once I had a boyfriend

I stopped thinking about whether I needed to have

a boyfriend. I liked that too. Would Knox still like me

if he knew what happened with Cal? Would he

think me heartless, think me a murderer, would he even

let me drive him in this van?

I put a pillow

between us, laughing it off, and then it’s two a.m.

and clear that it was me or Knox or the pillow

but not all three, and he’s trying to sleep

with his knees against the wall but I can tell

from his breathing that he’s not sleeping

and what if I turned over? What if I pretended

I was caught in a dream? What if he let me

slip into his arms and said, Sylvie,

do you think that I could kiss you?