The Code for Love and Heartbreak - Jillian Cantor Page 0,95

was some pretty impressive animation.”

“Yeah?” He smiles, his whole face relaxing, and he’s the George I met in sixth grade again, challenging me to an equation during math Olympiad, the George driving my car too fast to the hospital, promising me that Dad was going to be fine. The George ordering me mushroom and olive pizza in his kitchen and teasing me about how gross it is. The George lobbing a Ping-Pong ball across the table at me, trying so hard to get me to miss. “What was your favorite part?” he asks now.

I put my arms gently around his neck. “I liked when you had them dance, at the end.”

He wraps his arms around my waist, and the music is close enough that we can hear it but far enough away that we can hear each other breathing, too. And we sway back and forth for a few minutes, saying nothing. Inside the gym, the slow song stops, and something fast comes on. But neither one of us move apart. Instead, we just stand there, still slow-dancing, still holding on to one another.

I put my head on George’s chest and listen to the sound of his heart beating against my ear. And I think about what everyone said: Dad fell in love with Mom’s eyes. Izzy likes that John makes her laugh. Mrs. Bates says there’s no way to quantify passion. And Izzy says she can see how George feels about me, just by the way he looks at me.

I like George because he understands me, because we understand each other. Because he’s smart and so easy to talk to, and because when I’m upset he makes me feel better. Being with him, I’m comfortable and happy and safe. And maybe there is no math, no numbers, that can predict any of that, or especially not the way I am feeling right now, right in this very moment, leaning into his heartbeat in my ear.

“I wanted to tell you how I felt for so long, but I just didn’t have the words, Emma,” George says into my hair.

I move in closer to him, hold on tighter. “Who needs words when you have code?” I finally say.

“And this.” George wraps his arms tighter around me, and I think what he means is what he feels, what we both feel. There are no words, no math, no code. Just the two of us, here, together. Maybe this is what Izzy meant when she told me, If you feel something...just let yourself feel.

George puts his hand on my chin, and tilts my face toward his gently. We stare at each other, and I know he’s about to kiss me. For the first time in my life, I am certain I want to kiss someone, and I’m certain he wants to kiss me back. I really want to kiss him. I want to know what George’s lips feel like on mine and how he tastes. I want us to breathe together, for a moment.

And then I don’t want to wait for him to do it, either.

I stand up on my toes, lean in just an inch closer to him and I kiss him first. The music and the sounds of the gym and all the other couples we matched with our code all fade away.

There is just me and George.

Kissing him is better than beating him at Ping-Pong or at math, and I already know, when Izzy asks me later, I won’t be able to explain why. Except that I am warm and light. Really, really happy. Whatever is happening now is completely unquantifiable. It is passion and music. And there are no words, no numbers, to describe it.

For once, I don’t care. I’m not thinking about numbers at all. I’m only thinking about George, and the feel of his lips on mine. And I don’t want to ever stop kissing him.

Six Months Later

“Em!” Izzy shouts my name from downstairs. “George is here.”

I’m in my bedroom organizing my suitcases, taking out some winter clothes in order to fit all my coding books. I’ll be back to visit Dad for a weekend before it gets too cold and I can always bring warmer clothes back to Pittsburgh with me then. I sit on the final suitcase to get it to close, then run down the steps.

George is sitting at the kitchen table talking to Izzy, but when I walk in, he stops talking, looks at me and smiles. We’ve been together since the