To All the Boys I've Loved Before

33

AFTER SCHOOL, CHRIS AND I are hanging out in my room. She’s in trouble with her mom for staying out all night, so she’s hiding out over here until her mom leaves for book club. We’re sharing a big bag of Kitty’s Pirate Booty, which I’m going to have to replace because she’ll complain if it’s missing from her lunch on Monday.

Chris stuffs a handful of Pirate Booty puffs in her mouth. “Just tell me, Lara Jean. How far have you guys gone?”

I almost choke. “We’ve gone nowhere! And we have no plans to go anywhere in the near future.” Or ever.

“Seriously? Not even over-the-bra action? A quick swipe across your chest?”

“No! I told you, me and my sister aren’t like that.”

Chris snorts. “Are you joking me? Of course Margot and Josh have had sex. Quit being so naive, Lara Jean.”

“This isn’t me being naive,” I tell her. “I know for a fact that he and Margot haven’t done it.”

“How? How do you know ‘for a fact’? I’d love to hear this.”

“I’m not telling you.”

If I tell Chris, she’ll only laugh more. She doesn’t understand; she only has a little brother. She doesn’t know how it is with sisters. Margot and I, we made a pact, back in middle school. We swore we wouldn’t have sex until we were married or we were really, really in love and at least twenty-one. Margot might be really, really in love, but she’s not married and she’s not twenty-one. She’d never go back on her word. With sisters a pact is everything.

“No, I’d really love to know.” Chris has that hungry glint in her eyes, and I know she’s just getting warmed up.

“You just want to make fun of it, and I’m not going to let you,” I say.

Chris rolls her eyes. “Fine. But there’s no way they haven’t boned.”

I think Chris talks like that on purpose to get a reaction from me. She loves a reaction, so I’m careful to not give her one. I calmly say, “Can you please stop talking about my sister and Josh having sex. You know I don’t like it.”

Chris takes a permanent marker out of her bag and starts to color in her thumbnail. “You need to stop being such a scaredy-cat. Seriously, you’ve built it up in your head to be this huge, life-changing moment, but it’s actually done in under five, and it’s not even the best part.”

I know she’s waiting for me to ask what the best part is, and I am curious, but I ignore her and say, “I think permanent marker is toxic for your nails,” to which she shakes her head at me like I’m a lost cause.

I wonder, though . . . what would it be like? To be that close to a boy and have him see all of you, no holding back. Would it be scary only for a second or two, or would it be scary the whole time? What if I didn’t like it at all? Or what if I liked it too much? It’s a lot to think about.