Maya draws back, just barely, resting her forehead against mine. She’s still cupping my cheeks. “I love you.” Her voice breaks. “I’m in love with you. I’m so sorry it took me—”
I lean forward, kissing her harder. Her breath hitches, and that alone sends my heart into overdrive. Her arms fall past my shoulders. She’s pressed up so close, her knees are almost tucked up into my lap. I would freeze history if I could. Right here. This exact moment. This is my favorite dot on the timeline.
“I love you.” It comes out breathless. “I missed you so much.”
“Me too. I can’t believe this is happening.”
“No kidding.” I exhale. “Wow.”
I glance up in time to see a store employee pointedly looking away from the patio section. “Um.” I clear my throat. “Should we . . . go somewhere?”
I swear, I’m barely coherent.
Maya smiles. “Probably.”
“I don’t want to stop kissing.”
“Dressing room?” she suggests.
“Wow. Yes.” I kiss her again. “Good idea.”
Of course, deciding to kiss in the dressing room is one thing. Making it there is another. Turns out, you can be so giddy that walking is a challenge. We can’t stop bumping into each other, like magnets. And we keep sneaking behind displays and into aisles when no one’s looking.
Someone walks by, just as I’m about to kiss Maya in the entertainment section. I shift gears. “Quick, pretend we’re looking at the DVDs.”
Maya nods solemnly. “Emoji Movie. On sale. Looks romantic.”
“Oh, you want to see heart eyes?” I say. “Wait till we get to the kissing room.” I blush. “Dressing room.”
Maya laughs, taking my hand. “I’m so happy.”
I can’t even look at her. “Me too. God. Maya. You have no idea how much—”
“Hey, guys.”
It’s Kevin. Out of nowhere. He’s scratching his head, looking nervously from Maya to me. There’s a Georgia voter sticker affixed to his red polo shirt.
Wow. Worst timing ever. There should be an award for this. Called the Kevin Go Away Award. Presented to the Kevin who appears out of thin air to block you from kissing Maya Rehman in dressing rooms.
Maya doesn’t let go of my hand.
“Hey,” she says.
He smiles tentatively. “I’m really glad I ran into you guys. I feel so bad about how I left things last week.”
“No, it’s fine,” Maya says. “I’m sorry I yelled—”
“Don’t be. I needed the wake-up call. Maya. Listen. I can’t begin to understand what all of this must feel like for you. I don’t know if I ever will. But I’m going to do a better job listening from now on. I promise.” He taps his peach sticker. “Don’t you want to know who I voted for?”
Maya’s eyes widen.
Kevin shrugs. “You won me over. I don’t love the guy, but he’s way better than Newton, and he deserved my vote.”
Maya looks dumbstruck. “Thank you.”
Kevin grins down at her, and then up at me. “Anyway, I don’t want to interrupt anything—”
“What?” I stutter. “Uh. Not at all.”
“I’m just gonna . . .” Kevin points vaguely in the direction of the produce section. “Cleanup on aisle seven. Tangelo explosion.”
The moment he’s gone, Maya stands on tiptoe to kiss me in the middle of the aisle. Then she grabs both my hands. “Come on!”
We practically bolt past the electronics.
Thank God the dressing room’s empty—not even an attendant. Maya tugs me into one of the family stalls, locking it.
“Hey, look at that,” she says. “We’re alone.”
My heart pounds. “We are.”
She sinks onto the bench, and I follow—kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. But then she hugs me, shifting backward, until I’m almost on top of her. I rest my hand behind her head before it hits the bench. Our legs tangle together, sneakered feet dangling off the edge.
This time, when we kiss, it’s more urgent. Her hands fall to the back of my neck, gently threading my hair. My fingers trail down her bare arms, and she smiles against my lips. “Now I have goose bumps.”
She’s so close I can feel the heat of her breath.
“Goose bumps in a good way?”
She laughs. “Yes, Jamie.”
“This is—is this okay?”
“It’s okay.” She kisses me. “Very okay.”
“I just want you to know, it’s fine if we can’t date. If this has to be a thing that happened once in Target.” Maya laughs softly, and I tuck a strand of hair behind her cheek. “Seriously. Whatever you need this to be—”
“I want to be your girlfriend.”
“Okay.” I kiss her. “And your parents? Do you think they’ll be okay with . . . us?”